Into the Shadows
by Kala Lane-Kent
Summary: Follows Little Secrets, Heirs to the House of El, Sessions, and Love and Other Headaches. Kala Lane-Kent can't keep running from destiny. With Jason now in the field, how can she help but watch his back? It comes down to an ultimatum. If you do finally train, shouldn't it be with the best? Even if doing so turns your whole world on its head?
1. Act One: Took the Low Road In

**Author's Note:** Hello and welcome! If you've read our other work, feel free to skip down to the line and the meat of story. Just know that you, our readers and friends, are half of the reason this fic is getting posted. We couldn't leave you hanging without knowing how the next saga goes.

The other half is our dear friend and coauthor, **Saavikam77**. She is an awesome writer for DC fanfic, and we both fell in love with her Bat family, especially her troubled and compelling Jason Todd. This story exists because Saavi loves our little world, too, and had some very interesting ideas on how the Supers and Bats team up in a universe where Superman and Lois Lane have twins. World's Finest, indeed...

If you're new here, we're sorry. There's a LOT of backstory. We (that's Lois and Anissa, the coauthors using this ID) set out waaay back in the summer of '06 to write a short fanfic showing how we would've started _Superman Returns_. Lois-the-author had an idea as a 12 year old girl watching _Superman II_ that Lois Lane was pregnant at the end of the movie. I mean, who craves a hamburger with everything on it at 9 am? She told her little sisters bedtime stories about Lois Lane's twins and how they grew up.

When SR was announced, she was _stoked_. Anissa the coauthor was ready to throttle her if she heard one ... more ... spoiler. We watched the movie several times, and loved it, though there were choices made that bothered us both as fans and writers. So, the first few chapters of _Little Secrets_ were written by Lois-the-author, and the crowd at Blue Tights dot net and on Livejournal enjoyed it so much, they convinced us to both continue the story, and post it here.

Over a million words of fanfic later, while in the middle of two epics and planning/writing a third with Saavi, Anissa's father died, our writing suffered for it, and then we both lost our muses. However, the characters and the story still lived in our minds, and we've never quit talking about them.

So here's the briefest possible recap: ( **edit:** I know, it's not brief at all, bear with me. Over a million words of fanfic I'm summarizing here, six main characters, dozens of supporting characters, fourteen years of story time, eight years of real time writing.)

Lois Lane found out Clark was Superman, tricked him into proving it, and confessed her feelings for him. They ended up going to bed, but he relinquished his powers, choosing her over his mission. The very next day, General Zod and company arrived on Earth, searching for the son of their jailer. Kal-El got his powers back, kicked villain butt, and broke up with Lois, believing (thanks to Jor-El's influence) that he could not have a normal life or a relationship and be Superman. And unfortunately, the world needed Superman more. Lois did not take this well, and he loved her too much to watch her grieve, so he discovered a power he didn't know he had and stole her memories in a kiss. Including her memory of figuring out his dual identity.

That meant that Lois was right back to playfully teasing her best friend around the office and flirting with the hero, and heartbroken Kal-El could barely cope with that, wanting so much to just _tell her_. He believed Jor-El, though, and when information came to light that indicated Krypton might still exist, he leapt at the chance to find out for himself. Perhaps there was a home out there that needed him more than Earth, a place he belonged even more than here.

Krypton turned out to be thoroughly irradiated, and he barely survived the trip home. Kal-El was absent for almost six years, during which Lois Lane wrote an editorial called _Why the World Doesn't Need Superman_ , for which she was nominated for a Pulitzer Prize. He learned that on returning to the Daily Planet, and shortly thereafter learned that she was both engaged (to Richard White, Perry White's nephew) and had _twins_. Kal-El assumed that Jason and Kala were Richard's kids, at first. His friendship with Lois was strained, not least because she knew that he was the twins' father, and was terrified of him finding out and deciding on Jor-El's advice to take them from her. He was also surprised to reconnect with Lana Lang, now a successful fashion designer, who arrived in Metropolis and bumped into both him and Richard.

Before he could question their parentage and before Lois' also strained relationship with Richard hit the breaking point, Lex Luthor cropped up in all their lives again. It was Kal-El that Luthor wanted to hurt, to kill, to _vanquish_ , but to get him, he needed Lois. So he kidnapped her children. Lois, Clark, Richard, and Lana all worked together to find the twins, forging unlikely yet lasting friendships. In the end, though, Luthor lured Lois to his yacht and took her captive as well. She very nearly shot him in the process, something Luthor has never forgotten. He confiscated her gun and locked her up on the yacht, taking the twins to an enormous island he'd created from impure kryptonite.

On that island, Kal-El faced both the substance that can kill him and his cruelest enemy ... but he faced them knowing the children in danger were his own. Luthor almost defeated him, but was forced to leave, and Kal-El managed to rescue the kids and himself. He squared off with Luthor again, with Luthor holding a handcuffed Lois over the sea and a gun at her side. Only the gun was loaded with hollowpoint bullets, and those points were packed with fragments of pure kryptonite. Kal-El was shot, and Lois dived into the sea to save him. Richard, with Lana beside him in the sea plane, dove on the helicopter until they scared Luthor's inexperienced pilot off, then rescued both Lois and Kal-El.

It should have been enough, but Luthor's island was still growing, still threatening more earthquakes and tsunamis that would devastate the coast. Once Lois pulled the bullets out of his chest, Kal-El turned to leave and deal with that threat. Lois begged him not to go, but he had to, knowing it might be the last thing he ever did. In their moment of love and grief and leavetaking, neither of them were thinking about the fact that they had an audience. Richard and Lana both figured out that Superman was Clark in that moment, just before he flew off to try and pick up an _island_ made of _kryptonite_ and push it far enough from Earth's orbit that it would cause no further harm to his adopted world.

The aftermath saw a period of adjustment, as all four adults got themselves sorted out, Lois and Clark got back together, Richard and Lana pursued the more-than-friendship that had sparked between them, and the twins discovered that no, we can't all live in the same house together and be one big happy family and get a dog too while we're at it. Maybe a pony.

 _Little Secrets_ ended with the mothers-in-law collaborating on Lois and Clark's wedding, which included the very first L. Lang wedding dress ever designed, and Lana and Richard babysat the twins during the honeymoon.

There were small fics in between (see A New Reader's Guide... if you want to catch up on everything I'm giving massive spoilers for), but the next big story kicked off ten years later. The twins were now sixteen, and like any teenagers, they had issues. Jason had discovered girls, found the perfect one for him, and scared her off by proposing marriage at fifteen. Kala, meanwhile, had become Goth and wanted to be a singer, something that caused some parental consternation. Imagine if they knew she was also flirting with a college boy...

The major arc of both twins' adolescence was them dealing with their parents' legacies, and their parents trying to save them from making the exact same mistakes (right down to the college boy, which gave Lois hives). It didn't help at all that there was new and unwelcome distance in the Lane-Kent marriage, an old secret made in desperation gnawing guiltily at Lois, and Clark trying to spare her stress by airing his own grievances to someone else, whom she thought was one of his caped colleagues. All of that could've been dealt with, if _Heirs_ didn't also open with the death of Lois' mother, with which she was not coping well.

Luthor turned up again, marketing technology clearly based on the Kryptonian memory crystals he'd stolen in _Little Secrets_ , and Lois was trying to hunt him down. She had promised him at the end of LS to leave him alone, because he knew the truth of the twins' parentage and threatened to expose it to the world. A miserable bargain, but she made it to protect her family ... and kept it secret from everyone, even Kal-El.

When Kala broke curfew on New Year's Eve, showed up home late after super-speed-running across town, _and_ sported a nice collection of hickies from the guy no one knew she was sort-of seeing, Lois lost her temper. Clark not being there, off dealing with a nuclear reactor meltdown, just escalated the argument until Kala fired off at her mother and Lois slapped her across the face. Lois regretted it instantly, seeing her little baby girl again in Kala's shocked expression, but in the next second Kala proved whose daughter she was and got angry, ready to return the smack. Kal-El arrived in time to stop it, since Kala had a measure of his strength and might've killed Lois. Pointing that out won him no bonus points with Lois, and everyone spent a very upset night apart from one another.

The next day, Kala accepted being grounded and was facing a Family Conference to deal with her behavior, when she learned that Jason's new girlfriend whom she despised, and who had been there the previous night, was telling everyone in their friend group that Kala had done a lot more than neck with the college boy. This news, delivered by her best friend Sebast, who unfortunately _believed_ it for just long enough to break Kala's heart, decided her course of action. Kala packed the essentials and ran away.

Jason discovered her absence, and when he saw she'd packed a portrait of the family, he realized she was serious. All of the extended family was roped into the search, and the Lane-Kents even tracked down Kala's college boy, who turned out not to be a horrible person and who was also worried about her. They didn't find her, however, because Luthor had been waiting and watching, and his goons kidnapped her within an hour of her leaving home.

Then brought her to his secret research facility under the Nevada desert, where Luthor was trying to unlock the vast store of knowledge in the Kryptonian crystals he'd taken. He needed a fluent speaker of Kryptonese, and apparently also a member of the House of El, to access what he _really_ wanted: everything the 28 known galaxies knew of weapons technology. Kala found herself in hostile territory, without possibility of escape, and almost immediately was attacked by Luthor's goons. She was saved by Luthor's first attempt at cracking the crystal code with another fluent speaker: General Zod, presumed dead but held captive by Luthor.

As Lois' secrets came to light, her marriage to Clark nearly shattered, and everyone in the family escaped death by the narrowest of margins as Luthor sought to end them once and for all, and didn't care how many civilians were caught in the crossfire. Despite everything, they still tracked Luthor down, and Lois had him in her sights once more ... only to be shot by him, using her own gun. Meanwhile Kala and General Zod forged an alliance born of necessity ... and some very subtle manipulation on his part. It all came down to Lois in the hospital, Kal-El and Jason going after Kala, and fighting Zod. Kala broke conditioning when the battle almost got Jason killed, and that gave all four Kryptonians time to wonder where the hell Luthor was. They caught up to him opening the weapons locker where he'd stored a modified Kryptonian mining tool that concentrated a laser beam through a crystal ... in that case, pure kryptonite, making the gun at rest noticeably radioactive and lethal to all Kryptonians in the vicinity when fired.

Kala had realized that Zod was using her, and he intended to let Luthor kill her family before killing Luthor himself. So when he dove into the weapons locker to keep Luthor away from the gun, she beat him there by nanoseconds - and grabbed the gun herself, aiming it at him. He tried to reason with her, but she called his bluff, locked them both in, and shot him, intending that they both die.

Jason and Kal-El saved her, though Zod died, forgiving Kala with his last breath. And in the unfiltered sunlight required to revive her after kryptonite poisoning, Kala discovered she could _fly_. The end of the fic, and _Sessions_ after it, dealt with her making her peace with her mother and coming to terms with the psychological trauma left behind by her captivity. The story ended with Jason set to go to Gotham to train with the Bats and take up his family legacy in full, and Kala pursuing a singing career.

 _Love and Other Headaches_ followed both twins as they navigated relationships, college in Jason's case, pursuing a crazy dream in Kala's, and also detailed the lives of the Bats as they intersected with Jason especially. Tim Drake (Red Robin) and Cassie Sandsmark (Wondergirl) along with Jason as Superboy were the current leaders of the Titans, while Kala's band (which included her best friend Sebast) had actually gotten signed and was working a brutal tour schedule. In the midst of this, the presumed-dead second Robin, Jason Todd, returned to Gotham as the Red Hood, following a very similar storyline to Under the Red Hood in comics. At the end of his confrontation with Batman and Joker, he's spirited from the city by his mentor, Talia al Ghul. He learns a few disturbing things about her, though, and goes solo. The outline of LaOH, including the ending which we never wrote, can be found in the last two chapters of the fic.

All which leads up to this: the next chapter in Kala's story. What does a Goth rock singer who happens to be half-Kryptonian do when she's forced to get proper training among the caped crowd? Go to the Bats, who have their own wild card on their hands.

We both hope you enjoy this story.

* * *

Nightwing leapt from the rooftop, his body arcing out into space with feet together and hands outflung, just as if someone would be swinging from a trapeze to catch them. Even after all these years, muscle memory had not forgotten, though his conscious mind knew only a flicker of nostalgia. He had always felt most alive in midair, with no net beneath him.

No warm hands catching his, only the metal railing of the opposite building slapping into his palms, and he swung underneath to tuck and roll across the balcony. From there it was a serious of easy, graceful jumps from one handhold to the next, scaling the old tower's ornate façade. A bit of loose masonry gave him pause, and Dick Grayson hung from one hand's grip for a moment as chips of stone clattered down and down below him. The tips of his toes gave him purchase for a lunge upward to the next grip, and from there it was as smooth an ascent as anyone could wish. Well, anyone who had trained first as an acrobat, then as a Robin, and who lived the life of a Gotham hero.

The clock face itself loomed over him as he touched the hidden catch on its access panel, and moved past the whirring and humming of its gears to room beyond. Bluish-green light from dozens of computer monitors filled it, and flooded the face of the woman seated before them, her eyes scanning the data intently. Anyone else should've looked like a zombie in that light, but instead the reflected characters scrolling across her skin made Oracle look like an extension of the screens she watched. Sometimes when he talked to her, he wondered where the line between living mind and machine calculation was actually drawn. Once he would've given a confident answer to that, but they had all grown older and wiser since those days of such easy certainty.

Dick knew better than to believe his arrival was a surprise, and as he approached he noted a quick replay of his near-miss on a screen. "Need to get Huntress or Canary out there with some mortar and a trowel," he said. "The brickwork's getting loose."

"Since it offers an extra layer of intruder alert system, I consider that a feature, not a bug," Barbara Gordon told him with a smile. "What brings you to this side of town tonight?"

"Your scintillating company, as always," Dick said with a smile, and bent to kiss her cheek.

"Of course." Babs ruffled his hair for a moment, and gave him most of her attention as she turned away from the screens. Her eyes sparkled with amusement as she asked, "And what else, besides your complete inability to stop flirting for ten seconds? I know you don't miss me _that_ much. Besides, I hear Alfred's doing lasagna tomorrow, you know I'll show up to the Roost for that."

Once upon a time, he would've asked her how she knew the things she did, but his answer had always been a too-sweet smile and 'feminine intuition'. Wise enough to know when he was on shaky ground, Dick had learned to leave that topic alone.

"Big drug bust in Crown Point today," he told her.

"I saw that," Babs said, and touched a few keys without looking at them or the monitors. The pertinent details popped up, naming half a dozen gang members and two mid-level dealers who'd been arrested. The real catch, though, was one of Black Mask's lieutenants, and based on the evidence, he would likely do time for this one. GCPD was practically turning cartwheels in delight.

And as far as Dick knew, neither he nor Bruce had known the lieutenant was going to be there. It had sounded like a lower-level deal, something they had to ignore to pursue Joker's latest mayhem. "Your crew was in the East End last night," Dick said carefully. "And you know where we were. So how did GCPD hear about the meet, and show up to find everybody neatly bagged and tagged for them?"

Babs cut him a Look that he remembered from his Robin days. She'd always had his number. "Oh come on, don't play coy with me. You already know how, and you're pretty sure I know, too. You just want to make sure I know that you know that I know."

"He's back in town," Dick said flatly, unable to help the bile that rose in his throat. Their last confrontation had been spectacular … and had ended badly. So much so that he couldn't even speak the name.

"No Red Hood sightings in town yet, but Jay always tended not to leave witnesses," Babs said calmly.

"Yeah, he kills them," Dick snapped. Talking about Jason Todd, who was still a brother to him despite all he'd done, despite trying to kill _Bruce_ , was one of the few things that brought out Dick's temper.

"He left the dealers alive," she pointed out. "And he's not running the gangs this time, he's turning them in."

Dick began to pace, weaving in between computers and forensic equipment. "He's working the Bowery again. You know what it's like down there. He'll be tempted. And I'm guessing if you know he's here, then B does too. Are we going to do something about it?"

She watched him impassively, and not for the first time Dick realized he had never completely understood how Babs' mind worked. His own powers of observation and deduction had been honed to keenness under Bruce's training, but Babs seemed to operate on a different level. She could be just as dispassionate as the Batman himself, and if anything, more insightful. The combination came off cold, in both Bruce and Babs, and for all his detective work Dick still responded to most things with very human warmth. Emotion was an asset, for him. "We've got video of the takedown," Babs told him.

"Show me," Dick said, heart hammering. She put it up on the large screen nearest him, and he watched in silence as the men met and postured and talked. Two briefcases were brought forth and opened, one full of money, the other loaded down with more cocaine than Dick liked to think about. Only once the deal was done did the real action start. The moment that red helmet appeared in a shadow, his stomach lurched…

…but Jay appeared to be in control this time. Harsher than the Bats and Birds were, no pity for the thugs, but he was clearly trying not to kill them. Dick ached to watch him, to see the pure athleticism of the man that troubled boy had become, and hurt worse to see that ineffable grace turned to such deadly prowess. Half a dozen times he could've killed, and didn't, but none of the men would forget the encounter. Rainy days would bring back the memory in the form of old aches for the rest of their lives, most likely.

Jay had to know about the video, too, and he hadn't pulled the camera. "He left the evidence of the deal," Dick said. "Made sure the cops had enough to hold those guys."

"He did. The copy GCPD has is blurry whenever he's on screen—well, it is _now—_ but this is the original." And then Babs simply folded her hands and looked at him.

Dick couldn't help feeling defeated, and they hadn't even been arguing. "You're going to leave him out there. You and B, you've decided to let Jay run loose as long as he doesn't leave too many bodies in the streets." He swore under his breath, stalking away from her.

"Not quite," Babs said. "I'm planning to _enlist_ him. Better that he works with us than against us. I can teach him everything he needs to know about programming, and he can give us intel we'd never get any other way. Not to mention, busts like last night. I just need to sort out the proper angle, and I can make my move."

After a long, incredulous silence, Dick burst out with, "How the hell are you going to get him to follow the code?"

"I don't have to. He's doing it himself. Look, Jay's got a history in this city that _none_ of us can match. I'm not going to waste his experience, his contacts, his training—"

" _Assassin_ training," Dick cut in. "Some of those moves he got from the League of Shadows, and for all we know he's still working for them."

"No," Babs said serenely. "That's old news and you know it. He's working for _himself_. He always has been, even when he was Robin. It was never about serving the city, it was always about sticking up for people like himself. If we couldn't rope him into _our_ capital-A Agenda, what makes you think the League could?"

Dick would've stormed off, but there wasn't room for effective storming. He had to settle for turning away from her, clenching his fists, and forcing himself to get his breathing back under control. "Jay is _not stable_. That mess with Kyle should've proved that. Even when he's not trying to kill us, he's a loose cannon."

"Do you think any of us who've worn the bat symbol are stable?" Babs asked, and the gentleness in her voice cut deeper than any shouted insult. And before he could respond, she continued, "How much of this is about Donna?"

Dick swore again, bringing his hands up to scrub his face as if he could rub away the scowl there. "Dammit, that was low. And this isn't about her. Babs, do you really think that bringing Jay onboard is a smart idea right now?"

"Why wait? He'll only increase his contacts and strengthen his own network. I need to get him working with us, and enjoying the benefits of having me for backup, before he starts thinking about making this a competition again," Babs replied.

Scoffing, Dick shook his head. "I wish it was as easy as you make it sound. Babs, I want him to come home, you know that. I really do. I always wanted to save him, even after what he did to Tim."

"He's saving himself," she pointed out, and somehow he'd lost the argument without even realizing it.


	2. Speak My Name in Hushed Tones

_Twelve days later…_

In Gotham's Bowery district, there were many semi-abandoned apartment buildings. Some had a few legitimate tenants clinging on, others were empty except for squatters. The one to which Jason Todd was currently headed was not particularly noticeable among all the rest, at least until you got close.

Every window was barred, and every set of bars was securely bolted in place. There were two sets of doors, both bearing stickers from an alarm company that didn't actually exist, both with bars on them as well. The lobby had three very large and obvious security cameras aimed so that they could see out the doors as well as cover the elevators. And the first two levels were a garage that was not just gated off, but protected by a jointed steel roll-up door when not in use.

A closer examination would reveal that there were four more cameras in the lobby, much more discreet, and cameras in the stairwells and elevator cabs and hallways throughout the building. The roof was similarly covered and had its own bars on the windows and access door. A _very_ careful observer would find that there were tripwires inside the access doors, alarms on every single window in case of breakage, and other tripwires and infrared beams covering every potential access route to the building. There were a few places in Gotham locked down just as tight, but they were extremely rare.

The only nuisance, from a security standpoint, was leaving a safe path for the mail carrier to drop off the weekly ad flyers. Nothing stopped the US Mail, not even here, although it was the kind of neighborhood where packages frequently got stolen once delivered.

So the mailman had a key to the lobby, and there were only infrared beams to note his passage to the bank of mailboxes on the far wall. If he ever tried to visit another floor, he'd get a nasty surprise or two, but no one sent packages here. The building was officially vacant. Its owner – Jay – occupied one studio apartment on the top floor, and the underground level of the garage which had been extensively retrofitted to his specifications, which included a latticework of rebar embedded in the concrete floors and walls to deter any possibility of digging up into the building from the subway or sewers below.

You could never be too careful, in Gotham.

Jay was used to cleaning out the mailboxes once a month or so, tossing all the crap that accumulated. He never had anything sent here, where he actually slept. He had a remailing service and several PO boxes for that. But owning this building meant maintaining the mail boxes, and the postal service was just government enough to get up his nose if he didn't let them in. There _were_ ways to get rid of them, but they were all too much effort, when it just came down to a bunch of ads shoved indifferently in the boxes.

Today, as he reviewed the security footage, he noticed the mailman carrying a small package. And leaving it in one of the mail boxes. The one that corresponded to his actual apartment upstairs, as a matter of fact.

His first thought was _bomb_. But that made no sense. No one who both knew where he lived and had a motive to kill him was the kind of person who would stoop to a bomb. They were all the kinds of people who liked to do their killing face-to-face, if it was personal. Or by a carefully aimed sniper bullet, if it wasn't. Bombs lacked _elegance_.

Which was why, when he'd first woken to himself and realized that fucking Clown was still alive, he'd come back to Gotham and stuck a bomb under the Batmobile. Because he didn't give two shits for elegance, only effect mattered.

Except…

Things wouldn't have been _finished_ if he offed Daddy Bats like that. So he'd gone for theatrics, he'd trained for years for it, accumulated a store of deadly knowledge that would make anyone who wasn't a Bat run screaming into the night just at the list of his curricula.

And in the end, he hadn't gotten what he wanted – but maybe he'd gotten even just the same. At any rate, today's package probably wasn't from the Demon or his daughter, no matter what was in it. Either of them would've shown up, or more likely, sent ninjas to deal with him. If they were lucky, he'd send the ninjas back in one piece.

Now, Gotham's own rogues, if they'd figured out this was his home, one of _them_ might send a bomb. He couldn't imagine any of them being good enough to suss out which apartment was his, though. They'd just use a big enough bomb to bring the whole place down, or in certain cases, send one to every box in the building. Sending the package to the one apartment where he actually _lived_ was a message, one that indicated familiarity. The people he was most familiar with in this town, the ones who were smart enough to track down which building he owned and intuitive enough to figure out which apartment he used, they didn't do bombs. Or anything _permanent_ , really. Which was his issue with them.

Oh, but a smoke bomb? A little knockout gas? Something to neutralize the big bad Hood so the Bat could drag him back to the Cave and try to 'save' him all over again? That'd be about Bruce's style.

It took Jay twenty minutes of fiddling and swearing to get the bomb-defusing robot running. He'd purchased the stupid thing when he realized he _had_ to accept mail, and he knew too much about bombs to believe that no one would _ever_ send one. His mantra regarding security was _Better paranoid than dead_. So he watched through a camera and controlled it with a joystick while swearing pungently at the unfamiliar controls. A few virulent curses – the kind of words that would never fall from dear Daddy Bats' lips – always helped soothe his temper.

At last he got the damn mailbox open and the robot extended its camera into the little chamber to view the package. Jay gave a start as he recognized the handwriting on the label; that was _Babs'_ clear, slanting script.

And Babs had plenty of computers, plenty of printers. She could've easily printed off a label. Putting her handwriting on the label was a risk, if this could be tracked back to her. But it was also a message, letting him know the box came from her.

No return address, but he didn't need one. And his own name wasn't on the label, just 'Resident' and the address itself. Interesting, that. Un-addressed mail usually went to 'occupant', but if she'd chosen 'resident' instead of committing his name to paper, that meant something, too. That she knew he was planning to stay in Gotham for the long haul, maybe?

One thing Jay had learned very well was his limitations. He was a lot smarter than most people gave him credit for, but Babs was way out of his league in the brains department. She could out-think the Bat on occasion, and he wasn't going to waste his time trying to figure out her motives. Babs had sent him a package. Best see what was in it.

That didn't mean he was gonna walk down and _open_ the thing. Not yet, anyway. He'd bought an x-ray scanner too, hell, he had plenty of equipment downstairs that he could use to suss out what this was. But the x-ray machine was first. He sent the robot downstairs with the package, cursing the controls as he made it press the elevator button.

It was _highly_ unlikely that Babs would send him anything dangerous. Oracle didn't operate like that, never had, anyway. Still, he wanted to know what was in the box before committing himself to touching it. It was possible to falsify handwriting, after all.

And what the x-ray showed, after he'd run it through a couple times and examined it from all angles, was something very similar to a Bluetooth headset, plus a few small round discs that were organic in nature. Some kind of weird packaging material? Not threatening, anyway, he knew what C4 looked like. The main item was the headset.

A comm unit. Babs had sent him one of their comms.

Jay wasn't stupid. If she wanted to contact him, she was capable of hacking his computer. He thought there were _very_ few computer systems in the world Babs couldn't hack, if she wanted to. His six-month study of programming in the League of Shadows was not enough to put him on her level, just enough to get him out of reach of untrained people and most commercial hackers.

Fuck it, he was gonna open the thing.

Jay walked down the stairs, his shoulders tense, not knowing what this was about and not liking that feeling at all. He took the box off the x-ray machine and slit the packing tape with his knife. The _kris_ with its wavy blade and ungodly sharp edge had never been far from his hand since he'd gotten it.

Inside was ordinary foam, into which the comm itself was nestled. And those discs … they were fucking _cookies_. Jay picked up the cellophane bag and weighed it in his hand, considering. They looked like peanut butter.

A comm unit, and peanut butter cookies. His favorite. And if they were from Babs, probably Alfred had made them. "Holy shit, Sherlock, I think this is a peace offering," Jay said aloud, and picked up the comm. At the very least, it was interesting enough to make him take the bait and use the thing. He'd been back in Gotham for weeks, avoiding the Bats and Birds alike, so maybe this was Babs' way of reaching out. There were a few tiny buttons on the side, and he pressed one at random as he nestled it in his ear.

He heard a very faint beep, and then a digitized voice said, "Hello, Hood. This is Oracle."

"Damn, you were waiting by the mic for me to call?" he said.

Despite the digital encryption, he thought he could hear her smile. "No, the unit was left in motion-detecting mode, so I knew when you picked up the box. I had a few minutes to clear my schedule."

"Oh, so you have time to give me some sermon on how I need to come back home and play nice with everybody I tried to kill not that long ago?" Jay said, pushing for a reaction.

"I don't do sermons. You wouldn't listen, anyway. Besides, you haven't tried to kill anyone in a while." She sounded level, relaxed, casual. He knew that couldn't be true, but it was interesting to note anyway.

Jay scoffed. "Tell that to the fuckers ten blocks from here who were using elementary school kids to run their drugs." Point of fact, even those guys were alive. Dead men told no tales, but live men sitting in jail with broken arms, broken legs, some cracked ribs and maybe a fractured eye socket, _each,_ would tell a whole lot of people that Red Hood was back in town, and the Hood didn't let anyone involve kids in their drug business.

She sighed. "Well, you haven't been trying to kill any of us, anyway."

"Whaddya want, Oracle?" Jay said, abruptly tired of the whole chess game. "You sent me a comm, you wrote the address by hand so I'd know it was you, and you sent some of Alfred's cookies to remind me of all that warm fuzzy shit we both know isn't real."

"That warm fuzzy shit is real, but it's not what matters here," she corrected. "I sent you the cookies because I had them on hand and they're your favorite. I sent you the comm because I wanted to talk."

"What's there to talk about?" he snapped, and then remembered how she'd roped in Black Canary. "Shit, are you trying to _recruit_ me? I'm not a Bat anymore, you want me flying with the Birds? Do I hafta wear fishnets? I've got the legs for it, but I don't wanna shave."

To his surprise, she burst into laughter. "Oh, God, _that_ was a mental image," she told him. "No, Hood, I'm not trying to recruit you. You don't work _for_ anybody, that's for sure, but I thought maybe you could work with us. At least, it'll help keep us from doubling our efforts if we know who's following up on what."

It made sense – Babs liked things organized. "So who's the 'we' in that sentence, O? You and the Bat?"

"Me and mine," she said. "I didn't ask B's permission to call you, or his advice. But I coordinate for him too."

Interesting. Very interesting. "So you get to know what I'm working on. Great. What do I get out of this?"

"Access to my database," she said, and shit, Babs knew how to hook a guy. And he was really fucking weird, years of living with Bats and assassins had turned some fucked up screws in his head, because just the thought of having access to _that much_ information was literally making his mouth water.

Or maybe it was the cookies. Yeah, blame it on those.

He knew she wasn't going to turn him loose on _everything_ she knew; Babs was almost as paranoid as he was. But even access to a _tenth_ of what she had, plus the surveillance she had in place everywhere, plus her own really frightening skills at invading networks … damn. That was a better deal than he ever imagined getting from anyone.

And Babs had never been as judgmental as Bruce. She'd seen him as a stroppy brat kid, maybe, but she hadn't been part of his war with the Bat. As far as he knew, anyway. Hell, she had her own reasons – damn good reasons – to cheer when he'd jammed his pistol against Joker's head. Maybe, just maybe, he could trust her a little bit.

But only a little bit. Not as if he'd tell her _everything_ he was working on, anyway.

"All right, sign me up," he told her. And was surprised to realize he was smiling.

"First thing you're going to need is the specs on that comm," Babs said. "None of which is in print anywhere, no matter how encrypted. Care to drop by the Clock Tower? I'll show you how it works."

That raised his eyebrows. "You're inviting me to your place?"

"Why not? What're you gonna do, eat all my cookies?" she laughed again.

"Last time I crossed paths with someone in the family, I had a gun on them," Jay shot back. "And I know you're not a helpless crip. Don't think there's some kind of _honor_ that protects you from me."

"I never wronged you," she replied. "You have no logical reason to come after me. And despite what B thinks, you've always been logical. Even in the thick of it, you never went after anyone who didn't at the very least get in your way. Last I checked, I'm helping your prickly self, Hood, not hindering you."

She had a point. Babs was … well, the second to last person he'd go after. Alfred was the last, and he'd probably just leave the city permanently before he'd raise a hand to the butler. Shit, Alfred was probably the only untainted _good_ thing in his life.

He made delicious cookies, too.

"Yeah, so I probably won't knock you out with a tranq dart and steal your hard drives," Jay muttered. "Mostly 'cause of the cookies."

There was a click on the line, and her voice came through unscrambled. "Good. You know where to find me. Swing by anytime." The words were simple, but the unalloyed warmth in them left Jay standing shell-shocked long after he'd signed off with her.


	3. Through Shapes and Shadows

_Three months later..._

Few things made Kala nervous these days. She'd traveled all over the country, flying under her own power or on nearly every airline operating in the U.S. She rubbed elbows with the rich and famous at her day job, and with all kinds of superheroes when she moonlighted. She could outfly _bullets_ and hear her brother's heartbeat halfway across the globe. And she had thousands of screaming fans to bolster her ego. It was like some crazy dream; one as exhilarating and as real as the moment she had figured out just who her father was and, by extension, who that made her. It was little wonder that Kala stepped into most situations with a confident stride.

Not today, though. Today she was walking off a plane in Godwin International, Gotham City's airport, expecting to be met by a Wayne. Within the caped community, the Bats' discipline and training were legendary, and she'd come here to make good on an agreement that was years too late. Kala had meant to keep out of the hero game, but she found herself getting dragged in anyway. She couldn't hear danger to her brother and not respond; Jason was more than capable of saving himself, but sometimes he and the others just needed a little more unexpected help to turn the tide. And because of that, the press thought she and Superboy were an item, since the only times she'd been spotted were when she came to save his bacon. That was both utterly gross and really convenient. Mom had a point in that it was a rumor best left uncorrected for now.

Kala wasn't blind to what most of the Titans themselves thought of her. Jason was universally liked, like he always was; honestly, she wasn't hated or disliked, just universally _dismissed_ as a dabbler. Always just ducking in and out when she felt like it, like it was her due as 'Superman's Daughter' or something. And looked down on as an untrained 'wild talent'. It stung, she had to admit. It stung deep. They couldn't understand why, with all her power, she'd chosen not to follow in her father's footsteps. None of them had even the slightest clue.

None of them had come so close to switching sides in the great battle, and none of them had slain the villain who led them to that brink. None of them had known how little she'd expected to survive the event, how little she'd _wanted_ to after what she had almost done. After having seen who she could have become. Most of them didn't know about Nevada, and she damn sure wasn't going to tell them how it still haunted her. But she had to face facts now: whether she believed herself worthy or not, she _was_ part of her father's legacy, nothing was going to change that or stop her need to reach out, and she owed it to him and to Jason to get training in the fine art of being a caped crusader. Otherwise she was liable to receive a lot more scornful scoldings than she already had.

One was enough, and it still bit deep enough to make her scowl walking through the terminal. Dammit, she'd come in to cover their asses, once again, and she'd _done_ that! Every time! In the middle of a showdown that had gone wrong for the Titans, Jason had been pushed far enough that his heart rate skyrocketed, she'd _heard_ Tim Drake reporting that he was out of smoke bombs, and even Cassie Sandsmark had sounded frazzled. If the big three were in trouble, the rest were worse off, and she hadn't hesitated before she'd slipped on a mask and flown from the band's post-show diner nosh in Portland to the East Coast just in time to see Ravager get knocked unconscious, covering Beast Boy's flank. So she'd dived in, just like always, moving too fast for the bad guys to see.

And, in the end, she had to admit, too fast for the good guys to see, either. Her shoulders hunched defensively, remembering with a groan and a roll of her eyes. For once, it turned out Kala wasn't the only one showing up to provide backup, but _she_ wasn't an official hero, she'd never filled out the registration forms and all that, and most importantly, she didn't have a communicator. So she hadn't heard that the founding Titan, and Official Original Crush of half the guys in capes, _Donna Troy_ was on her way in.

Kala's initial attack had knocked out the bad guys' leader, but since she came in at Mach 2 and didn't think to slow on approach, the resulting sonic boom also momentarily flattened the Titans. A miscalculation, sure, but not _that_ serious of one. But it had still had its intended effect; the threat had been neutralized. None of their people had been harmed, and the worst she'd gotten from Tim and Cassie – along with her brother, the actual _leaders_ of the current Titans roster – was an eye-roll and a degree of snark. They knew her intentions. Kala herself had been prepared to shrug it off with an apology, play it off for laughs the way they usually did. But after they'd all mopped it up, sainted Troia decided to give Kala a piece of her mind.

In the moment, her jaw had dropped and she had flushed with embarrassment, being chewed out in front of her own brother and people she considered friends. Even now, when a few choice phrases like 'reckless disregard' and 'loose cannon' flitted across her memory, her cheeks flamed. Kala couldn't remember feeling more horrified shame than she'd felt in that moment, Troia dressing her down as if she was one of her underlings.

The worst of it had been that not one of them stood up for her, even Dopey hadn't even looked at her. That only compounded the hurt she'd felt then. They were all too in awe of the original Titan, Wonder Woman's own sister, with the cobalt eyes and star-spangled costume, to dare suggest that she might be going overboard. All in all, it was scolding enough to send most young hero-wannabes home in shame, which had likely been Troy's intent, but Kala wasn't a wannabe. She was a goddamn _Legacy_ , if it came down to it, just like Donna. And she wasn't most people – she was _Lois Lane's_ daughter. Her response, once she'd gotten past the first burst of admittedly arrogant disbelief and embarrassment, was anger.

" _Untrained liability? Hot-headed interference? Really? Fine. Guess it's maybe time to cash in an old favor. Good thing I have this summer off. We'll just have to do something about that, won't we, Troy?"_ she'd shot back, just as high-handed as the Amazon. And with outrage still running hot in her veins, she'd gone directly from that ugly confrontation to call her Uncle Bruce, and ask if he could fit her on the roster for a couple months and bring her superhero training up to standard.

He'd agreed, of course; he had agreed back when the twins were pre-teens to train them both, if Kal-El wanted – and Lois allowed. Jason had taken advantage of that at sixteen, and Kala was doing it now at twenty-three, but so what? There were others that didn't start as kids; not everyone was a damn side-kick. The whole first generation had been grown-ups, for God's sake! Her own father had been thirty at his debut. And no one, absolutely no one, could call her untrained if the Batman put his stamp of approval of her. Especially if Timmy's tales of training were to be believed. That should silence Ms. Perfect forever.

She also hadn't spoken to her brother for a week, despite Dad's insistence. Despite Jason's increasingly agitated messages. He had earned it; let him deal. Yeah, his silence had hurt that much. Once she did answer her phone, she refused to talk about the incident, and for all that Jason got called the stubborn one in the family, he had to back down and let it go. Worrying incessantly, she was sure.

It _was_ a reckless decision, even she knew that, and Kala wasn't sure exactly what she'd signed up for. The timing was the worst, so close to the enormous tour and all its complications, the confusion of Marlene not being there for support, the strange place she and Sebast had found themselves in. Not to mention, it was three months. Three months to soak up everything the Bats could possibly teach her and what was likely to be some of the most intense training that any of the capes would ever see.

Kala had to admit as she was walking directly into it, yeah, this was going to be the most insanely reactionary thing she had _ever_ done. Damn that Lane temper.

But damned if she'd hear any more of that crap from any of the Titans, current crowd or founders or future. The next person who snorted 'Goth Barbie' at her was gonna get a face full of Bat-approved fist. Whatever the cost, that alone would be worth it.

Besides, a summer away from her now-successful band, and now-complicated life with them, was just what she needed.

So for the first time in a long time, Kala was nervous, scanning the crowd outside the security checkpoint. She was supposed to meet one of the Waynes, but no one had told her who exactly would be meeting her. Uncle Bruce she'd recognize, of course. And she had seen Timmy in the real world enough times to know him without his mask on. Dick she remembered vaguely as a tall, dark-haired teenager who had given her and Jason each a lollipop at their last meeting, when she was about nine. Barbara Gordon she'd never met, but supposedly she handled the Birds of Prey and only provided support to Bat business.

Kala noticed the young man first: clean-cut and devastatingly handsome, he would've drawn her eye anywhere. And then she saw the sign he was holding: it read 'KENT' in neat letters. "Oh, shit," Kala whispered, her eyes going wide as she headed toward him. That curly hair and those eyes _were_ familiar after all. But Dick Grayson had grown up quite a lot since she'd last seen him.

 _Whoa. This is gonna be interesting._ She caught his gaze and waved, and saw his eyes light up. When he smiled, his cheeks dimpled, and she reminded herself not to bite her lip. _Damn._

…

Waiting for Kala, Dick idly thought back over their first meeting, back when she'd been a whole lot younger – and so had he, actually. He and Bruce had been in Metropolis, politely introduced to a couple of reporters for no reason that Dick could understand at first. And then Bruce had nudged him, and Clark Kent had said something about the last time they crossed paths he'd been wearing the blue suit, and _holy guacamole Batman_ , that was _Superman_ grinning in amusement!

Also Superman's wife, Lois Lane-Kent, and their twins, who couldn't have been more than nine at the time. Kala had been a big-eyed bossy little kid, riding herd on her shyer brother, and instantly charmed by proffered candy. He had been nice to her and Jason then, but the object of his fascination was their father. Dick had always idolized Clark, and the pleased smile the older man gave him for connecting with his kids had warmed Dick's heart.

He already knew Kala wasn't a little kid anymore. He had glimpsed her in Nevada, sixteen years old but with far too much knowledge in her hazel eyes, slim and spare and haunted as she'd asked the League to give funeral honors to General Zod. Dick didn't think she'd recognized him then, but why should she have, when her focus was on her father and on Black Canary, organizing the cleanup of that nightmare? Her brother Jason had been there too, and the weedy little boy whom Dick had charmed had grown into a husky young man. Too competent and solemn for his age, as he'd argued with Kala over her request, but all the kids Dick knew were too old for their years. Including himself.

It was Jason whom Dick knew best. That next summer, Jason had come to Gotham to train with the Bats, and now he was in the city quite often, always with a word of affection for Dick when their paths crossed. Jason was really something, a serious and studious type, but he had the physique and the powers to be a truly impressive fighter. Bulletproof, nearly as strong as his father, and as stubborn as his mother, yet with an innate gentleness of character that was a welcome change in Gotham—those were traits Dick admired in him.

From all accounts, Kala wasn't a whole lot like him. Those accounts were biased, though, and he was keeping his mind as clear as possible for this meeting. Dick knew as few did that Kala wasn't keeping out of the caped community because of cowardice or selfishness; he'd been at the funeral for General Zod, where she'd stood straight-backed and clear-eyed during the eulogy of a man who had been her ally, if for his own purposes, and whom she had killed in what could only be self-defense as far as Dick was concerned. That would leave _anybody_ leery of taking up with the caped crowd.

Most of the Titans gossip about the girl was envious, Dick thought. She had the powers, including flight and speed and heat-vision, and she had a day job that most of them envied as well. Latin-flavored Goth rock wasn't Dick's style, but he figured the rockstar life was about as rootless and demanding as the circus life he'd grown up in. The rest probably thought it was a dream job, fame and fortune. Worse, unlike a lot of the caped crowd, Kala had a family who loved her and who were all alive and sane and on the same side of the fight. To decide _not_ to be a hero, when she had all those advantages, drove them nuts.

If she'd stayed completely away, the complaining would've died down eventually, but Kala kept turning up when Jason found himself in trouble. She'd fly in with a domino mask on, wearing street clothes instead of a costume, and stick around just long enough to turn the tide. The cape-watching communities online had dubbed her the Blur, since that was all most people saw of her. The Titans actually spoke to her when she could stay for cleanup, and that only made them more jealous, since apparently she was smart and witty and beautiful as well as being super-powered. And completely unavailable – Kala had turned down any flirting from capes, gently but firmly. She only dated civvies, and claimed to _be_ a civilian, to anyone who argued.

One Titan in particular went into frothing paroxysms over her, and that was Dick's own best friend, Donna Troy. No wonder, really. Donna and the other founding Titans had had a seriously screwed-up debut in the superhero world. Most of them were out there risking their lives long before they could vote – some of them before they could drive. And it wasn't like the original Justice League heroes, who had all begun working alone and only formed a team once they were all relatively secure in their own identities. The Teen Titans back in the day had all grown up together, figuring out the hero life in an amplifying chamber of other young heroes, with all the neuroses of a high school clique made moreso by danger and powers.

They'd all been winging it, largely without guidance or supervision, and Donna had gotten into more than her share of trouble. She always did, really – Donna had enough bad luck that Dick had made a few inquiries among his Romany contacts to see if there was some kind of curse on her. Apparently she _did_ have an angry supernatural witch gunning for her, and that wasn't anything that could be easily dealt with.

Now that the original Titans were all grown up and playing solo for the most part, Donna had become something of a mother hen. She saw the new generation of Titans pulling the same kind of shenanigans that she and Dick and the rest had done, only she remembered all the times it had gone sour for them. So she tended to crack down hard on risk-taking and anything that endangered the team.

Which, Kala ran solo, showing up to turn the tide and soaring off again. She wasn't trained by anyone, really, but when she could outfly bullets, what did it matter? The biggest issue, as Dick saw it, was that she didn't have a communicator. So no one could brief her on what was going on, and she couldn't warn them when she was inbound. That meant her every appearance was a surprise to both her allies and their enemies. When said surprise included a sonic boom and pressure wave that knocked everyone on their butts, yes, it was a liability. But it could've been fixed by just giving her a comm unit. That was how Babs did things, roping in the wildest of wild cards by making them de facto part of the team. It had worked with Jay, so far…

Dick shook himself out of that train of thought. The middle Wayne brother would hopefully stay in the Bowery and out of their hair this summer, as he'd been doing for months. The body count stayed down and the crime on the worst side of town was kept to low simmer, so Babs at least counted it a win. Dick wasn't so sure. Still, when Kala had called in her favor to Bruce and gone way beyond just getting a comm and decided to get _training_ , Dick had jumped on that chance. Bruce was getting broody, Tim was practically living in front of his computer, and training someone new would be good for them both. Plus Dick himself would enjoy finally finding out what had happened to the bossy little girl and the haunted teenager.

Who knew, he might learn to appreciate Goth rock, too.

And then he saw the long-legged young woman walking down the concourse, a fall of wavy dark hair hiding her face for a moment. She was one he would've smiled at in any case, for the surety in her stride and the nicely-appointed curves, but then she glanced over at him. Her mouth quirked up in an appreciative grin, and then her eyes dropped to the sign he held. Even at a distance, Dick could read the surprise in her body language.

Then she met his gaze and waved, a genuine mega-watt smile this time, and this time he recognized those hazel eyes. _**That's**_ _Kala? Wow! Did she ever grow up gorgeous!_

…

When she reached him, Kala held out her hand. Despite the fact that she'd known it was coming, actually meeting Dick Grayson again was a surprisingly intense experience. Though Tim had held the title for a while now, Dick had been the one at Bruce's side when she had been growing up. He had been the one she had always thought of when someone mentioned Batman's external conscience. _Oh my God, this is_ _ **Robin**_ _! The first one, the one that pretty much set the standard. He was a skinny thing the last time I saw him. Wow, what a headtrip!_ "Hi," she said, almost shyly, too overwhelmed at the moment to really know how to react. With a chuckle, she held out her hand.

He caught her hand, and instead of shaking it, pulled her into a hug. "Hey! Good to see you again, Kala," Dick said, squeezing her ribs. She couldn't help laughing and hugging him back.

He let her go only to take her by the shoulders and hold her at arms' length. "Look at you, all grown up and pretty," he enthused, and Kala snickered.

"You, too," she told him. The dimples returned, and she couldn't help thinking that he was one of the most gorgeous men she'd ever seen. _Reputation_ _ **definitely**_ _deserved. It's just not fair. Better keep my gut reaction on lockdown, or I'll be in more trouble in Gotham than I was in Metropolis_.

"C'mon, let's go get your bags," Dick said, and escorted her in that direction with one hand at the small of her back. As the neared the baggage claim, he cut her a smirk and said, "By the way, I don't know if you remember our last meeting, but I seem to remember you were awfully fond of these." With that he reached into one pocket of his elegantly-cut sport coat and pulled out a large lollipop, obviously from a high-end confectionery.

Kala couldn't help throwing her head back in delighted laughter. He was just too good to be true, this man. Cassie had warned her once, years ago, about the Grayson Charm, but it was another thing to experience it. "You know, everyone warned me you had a way with women."

"And a good memory. Perks of being a detective." His blue eyes twinkled, and they caught each other up on the gossip of their respective cities while waiting for her bags. Kala's luggage was blue with black and white ribbons tied to the handles, and Dick picked up both suitcases for her, refusing to let her carry her own.

They headed out to the limo that waited at the curb, a hired driver standing by the open door. He and Dick loaded the suitcases into the trunk along with her carry-on, and Kala got into the limo's backseat with a graceful twist. She'd worn a dress that was light and comfortable in the summer heat, but the skirt was short enough that it took some care to get in and out of cars.

Dick climbed in back with her, thanking their driver, and pulled the privacy screen across. "So, summer in Gotham," he said, those blue eyes still sparkling. "Took you long enough to get here, Kala, but you're very welcome. I even moved back into the Manor just for the occasion."

"You're too sweet," she demurred, still taking his measure. He could've looked like just another handsome young man, but she was starting to notice the easy grace he had in even the most mundane gestures. The legacy of martial arts, maybe, or his early training as an acrobat. "You didn't have to do that just for me."

Again with the dimples. This man was impossible, and she knew from impossible. "Nah, with someone new in the house Alfred will be cooking to impress, and I'm not gonna miss that. His lasagna is to die for. Almost literally. And he bakes, too. Good thing we all run the rooftops half the night, or we'd be round as ball bearings. Speaking of which, you know Alfred's ex-Special Forces, right? Don't let the mild-mannered butler thing fool you, he could probably take out most of us."

"I didn't know that," Kala replied thoughtfully. "Everyone basically just told me he was the closest thing Uncle Bruce had to a father."

"Yeah, that too," Dick said. "Alfred may be the only unreservedly _good_ guy I know, other than your dad. The whole world is lucky he's the one who got custody of Bruce." He leaned back easily, still looking at her with those bright inquisitive eyes.

Kala quirked a brow, and decided to test him a little. Just being in the same space with him for ten minutes had her native curiosity at peak. At least she was ahead of his poor civilian girlfriends; being privy to his caped life at least answered a few questions they would never guess at. Something about Dick just naturally made you want to know more. "Yeah, Mom warned me that he might be the only sane person in the whole of Gotham. You boys are bonkers, both because you're _boys_ and you jump off buildings for fun."

Dick let loose with a warm, playful laugh. "Yeah, your mom would think that. Didn't she meet your dad falling off a building?"

"Falling out of a helicopter that had fallen off a building," Kala corrected, her mouth quirking up in a grin. His good humor was just infectious. "She also has quite a bit to say on the topic of Uncle Bruce, but most of it wasn't meant for my ears."

"Yeah, but whether it was meant for Super-ears or not doesn't matter, does it?" Dick teased back. "Jason warned us about you. Everything we say within five miles can and _will_ be used against us."

"I'm outnumbered, I'll take every advantage I can get," Kala shot back, and they both laughed. It didn't escape her notice that he wasn't saying anything about Bruce, though. "So it's you, Bruce, Tim, and Alfred in the Manor? I've been hearing amazing things about Cass Cain, but Tim told me she's out of town for a while? Made me a little sad; I would have liked to compare notes." Kala wanted to mention Stephanie, who she still thought about, but she had the feeling that would change the mood. There was plenty of time to find out what was happening on that front. It would keep.

"Yeah, Cass had some personal business to take care of," Dick said. "I'm hoping she'll drop back in. There's such a thing as too many bachelors in one place – but you're the antidote to that, anyway."

"Thanks. Nice to know I'm useful." Kala smirked at him. "Don't think I'm gonna cook and clean for you, though. A housewife, I will never make. Good for some, but not this mother's daughter."

Dick just cocked his head curiously. "Nah, Alfred insists that's his job, and we insist on helping him, because it's a really big house. I know you can cook, though. Jason treated us to breakfast a couple times, and he said you're as good as him."

Her stomach growled at that; she hadn't managed more than coffee this morning and the distant memory of her twin's cooking made her instantly homesick for it. Kala just flopped back in her seat with a sigh. "God, I hate you. I haven't had Dopey's pancakes in _months_. I really need to fly out to Kansas just to steal them off his plate."

"Alfred makes a mean pancake, too," Dick informed her. "I think everybody is home, so get ready for a meet and greet. If we can pry Tim off the computer, that is. And probably lunch, too. You must be hungry, planes don't offer any good options these days."

That was enough to make her empty stomach protest enough that they could both hear it this time. "I think it's useless to protest in the interest of politeness at this point," Kala laughed, then complained in the same tone. "They don't even give you a snack anymore if you're in the air less than two hours. And this is the kid who used to have a peanut allergy grumbling. Is it too much to get a stroopwafle for the price of a flight? Geez. I'd rather fly Krypton Air as much as possible. No lines, no taking your shoes off, none of that. I mean, no luggage either, and you can't really fly and eat at the same time, but it's so much faster that it doesn't matter."

"Hey, I gave you candy," Dick said, smirking. "Which you're not eating. Don't have a sweet tooth anymore?"

That playful air again, and Kala smirked right back. "Oh, I love sweets, whether it's candy or too-charming men," she replied, and saw surprise spark into delight on his handsome countenance. "I'm just not gonna sit here in the back of a limo, licking a lollipop and eyeing the cutest dimples I've ever seen. That sounds like a setup for the kind of movie I _don't_ watch."

He laughed out loud at that. "Thank you, but these are _lady-killer_ dimples. They're not cute. They're disarming, and then the smile gets 'em. Or the blue eyes, I'm not really sure."

So he was a flirt, too, and Kala just rolled with it. "Eyes are definitely nice, but it's the smile that seals the deal. Makes you look downright _wholesome_ , and I've heard too much about you to believe _that_ , Mr. Grayson." She gave him her own slow, knowing grin at that, turning it right back at him.

"Don't believe all the rumors," he replied easily. "Especially not the one that says I used to have a cape with the uniform but I ditched it to let the whole city get a better view of my sculpted glutes."

It was Kala's turn to fall back against the seat, giggling helplessly. She just couldn't help it; self-awareness was one of her favorite things in her men, as long as it didn't head toward arrogance, and Dick should no signs of that kind of conceit. "But it's such an easy rumor to believe," she mock-protested. "If you hide that pretty face under a mask, you've gotta have _some_ assets on display."

"Assets. Right. That was almost a Robin pun," he laughed back at her. "Not so bad yourself, you know. There's a reason I was smiling before I even recognized you."

"Why thank you," Kala chuckled. "In my case, pretty is useful. Instant recognition is most of it, though that has its downside for obvious reasons. It sells more albums. Makes it easier to cadge free gelato at times at the shop up from my house. Nice to know you didn't have to ditch meeting me to take home some girl in a cute skirt."

"I _am_ taking home a girl in a cute skirt, with the legs the make it look good," Dick replied. And just when she'd decided that superficial flirting was a skill he'd mastered, he continued with a serious tone, "You're not just pretty, though. I've seen a lot of pretty. You have more than that going on, Kala."

It had been a shitty week, with the boys groaning about missing her and the label having conniptions over her hiatus, not to mention packing and worrying about what awaited her here and knowing Sebast was watching her broodingly without saying a word. Given that, Kala was more than willing to take harmless flirting as her due…

… but she knew that serious tone, and handsome and charming though he might be, Dick Grayson's reputation _did_ precede him. Oh, he wasn't a bad guy, but his commitment issues had commitment issues. And she couldn't handle commitment, herself. Not right now. Meanwhile casual was not her style either, and the very last thing she wanted this summer was caped relationship drama.

So in the same honest voice Kala told him, "You've got a lot more than dimples and a nice ass going on yourself, Dick. But I didn't come to Gotham to hook up. And _my_ reputation should've preceded me, too – I don't play with capes. It's not safe for someone like me. Besides, it'd be way too easy to fall for you, but I've already done the built-in expiration date thing with relationships, too many times, and it sucks. I think I'm getting a little too old for it."

That clearly took him aback just a little, enough that Kala wished she had kept her mouth shut a little longer. "Yeah, I'll be honest, I'm not at the Manor this summer looking to hook up either," Dick finally said. "I came to help out an old friend's daughter."

Still feeling bad for having caused that reaction, she reached out to touch his knee. "Dick, I didn't mean it like that," Kala murmured with a gentle tone. "I didn't mean for that to be insulting."

He waved a hand as if clearing smoke from between them. "Nah, it's not that. I'm not used to women who acknowledge the charm and resist it in the same breath. No, I think you and I together would be too much flirty gorgeous showmanship for this town. But I like you – I like that you speak your mind. And that you admire the dimples." Saying that, he grinned again, showing them off.

Still chortling, she replied, "If it was just the dimples, I'd marry you here and now before someone prettier came along. But things get complicated when you've got capes involved. So I'll take – and give – all the ego-boosting flirting in the world. I just came to train, that's all, for what time I have. My life is complicated enough as it is."

"I can imagine. No one else tries to be a hero and a rock star," Dick replied, shaking his head. "Gotta have super-speed to pull that off. And seriously, yeah, it'd be way too easy to fall for you, too. But I have a bad habit of screwing things up that I don't mean to, and I wouldn't want your dad drop-kicking me into an ocean."

Kala bared her teeth in a smile that still managed to be teasing, much as she _hated_ hearing her father given as a reason to _avoid_ her. "Don't worry, I swore off capes years ago. And anyone who screws up with me doesn't have to worry about Dad. I take care of problems like _that_ myself. I've got flight and strength and heat-vision … but I'd probably just Taylor Swift it out into a song that'll make me richer, much as I am not a fan. Just no; never write songs about your ex or your current. Bad juju."

Dick grinned rakishly at that. "I stand corrected – now I'm scared of _you_. Good thing we already worked out that we're not gonna be each other's summer fling. But if you like trolling Tim, and I know you do…"

Kala returned the curve of lips wolfishly. _What_ _ **are**_ _you thinking, Mr. Grayson?_ "Oh, I sense an evil plot afoot. Let me in on it."


	4. Red Knights, White Knights

Kala had known just how well-off her uncle was, but experiencing it was something entirely different. Wayne Manor was … huge, and impressive, even to someone who'd flown over some of the grandest estates in the world. It looked like something too old to have been built in this country, obviously modeled on English country estates. The house looked like it was the size of a city block, and every inch of it spoke of wealth and circumstance. Kala looked up at all that intricate brickwork, at the chimneys piercing the sky, and felt properly small.

For a moment, anyway, before squaring her shoulders. She'd grown up in a penthouse apartment in _Metropolis_. What did a big house have on that city's skyline? Especially seen from _above_ , at dawn, three miles above sea level watching clouds pass beneath her feet. Kala shouldered her carry-on and tossed her dark hair back as Dick carried her two suitcases to the front door.

It opened as they reached it, and Kala saw Alfred Pennyworth in person for the first time. He carried himself with such an air of dignity that she immediately wanted to call him 'sir' and beg his pardon for disturbing him.

But then he smiled, and there was such warmth and welcome in it that Kala felt herself smiling broadly back. "Welcome to Wayne Manor, Miss Kala," he said, stepping back with a slight bow. "Do come in." For the second time in an hour, Kala felt herself start to lose her heart. She had heard about Alfred many times from both Dad and Jason. They both had echoed Dick's earlier statement.

"My pleasure," she said, sketching a curtsy in reply, and heard Dick chuckle behind her. "My father and brother told me to give you their love. I'm glad to meet you, Mr. Pennyworth."

"I assure you, Miss Kala, the pleasure is mine," he told her gravely, but there was a certain twinkle in his eye. "Please do give Master Clark and Master Jason my fondest regards."

The foyer took her breath away again, opening into a high-ceiling hall with priceless artwork on the walls. Kala tipped her head back to look up, where an enormous chandelier hung from the ceiling. Everything in sight was calculated to impress upon the visitor the Wayne family's wealth and importance. "Is everything here so huge?" she finally whispered, dazzled a bit despite trying to guard against it.

"Yeah, pretty much," Dick laughed, and started arguing politely with Alfred over who would take Kala's bags upstairs. She couldn't cut in, though, because Bruce was padding toward her with a fond smile. "Hello again, Kala," he said.

She knew the drill. Out of the mask, Uncle Bruce was a different person; he let himself become the Batman on a level that Dad and most of the other heroes didn't really do. So she hugged him, and teased him about the gray showing at his temples, where _no one_ would dare taunt the Bat. He held her at arm's length, and his friendly expression grew somber, a little of his alter ego surfacing. "Do you have any idea what you've gotten yourself into?"

Kala shrugged. Oh yeah, just from the way he said it, she was reminded just what she was signing herself up for. She'd talked to Tim, she knew from Jason, but that wasn't the same as experiencing it. Still, she had made this decision and she was going to keep to it. If Jase could do it, so could she. "An act of completely wanton idiocy? The best ab workout in the city?"

Dick snorted amusement as he drew abreast of them, having lost custody of her luggage. "Hey, laughing yourself sick at Robin and ex-Robin puns is the ab workout. Training with us is more like, how to bruise muscles you didn't even know you _had_."

Oh, she had a better idea than that what she was up against, but there was no way that she would admit that she was even the slightest bit worried. Not when she knew her uncle was likely assessing her reactions. _Find your way into the part, just like you always do. Brazen it out and they'll never know._ Rolling her eyes at him, Kala shot back, "I _dance_ professionally, Dick, I know all about ice baths and muscle liniment. I'm sure you guys will find new ways to make me appreciate them – that's the nature of learning new physical skills – but believe me, I'm game."

"We'll see," Bruce said appraisingly. "Get settled in today. We're on a nightside schedule, so we get up at noon for breakfast, then training at one, followed by any necessary activities for our dayside lives. Dinner's at five, we update and plan the night afterward. We don't go on rounds until dark, which is almost ten in the summer, so you'll have time for another training session. Rounds end whenever it gets quiet or at dawn, and if we have a major operation we debrief afterward. Otherwise there's a last meal before bed. I expect you in all the planning and debrief meetings, but I don't plan to have you on rounds for at least a few weeks."

Kala frowned a little at that. On one hand, thank God for the time to get acclimated and used to their system; on the other hand, she needed as much hands-on experience as she could. It was the main reason she had pushed herself to come. "I understand, Uncle Bruce, but I thought we were creating the impression that the Blur has been in Gotham before I got here?"

"The Blur has been seen in and around Gotham for years, despite not being on my approved list," Bruce replied with just a hint of censure. "Everyone knows that wherever Superboy goes, she appears. Yes, we created the impression that the Blur moved here before you did, and we will probably have you sighted – but only on light patrol, under supervision, at my direction. Not on our typical rounds."

Kala started to open her mouth to ask why, only to be fixed with a steely gaze before he continued, "You do _not_ go out without my permission. If someone's life happens to be in danger right in front of you, I know you can't ignore that, but I expect you to use your speed to remain unseen. And you do not, under any circumstances, engage any of my rogues until I tell you to do so. Understood?"

Kala knew she was speaking to Batman, not Uncle Bruce, and nodded. Superman's daughter was no fool; she knew more than he thought about the monsters in his town. She had been more than slightly informed. "Yes, sir. I had assumed as much."

"Good. I know Barbara wants to see you as well; she may pull you for additional training, or light patrol under supervision. The Birds of Prey keep slightly different hours but they coordinate with me on patrol routes. On anything except dealing with the rogues, you can take Babs' word as equal to mine."

Kala nodded again. It occurred to her that Dinah Lance _was_ the Chairwoman of the Justice League, and also one of the Birds as Black Canary. Her decision _might_ have outranked Bruce's on whether or not Kala was ready to face the rogues … but this was Gotham. Batman was the law here, not the League. And the Blur wasn't going to be the one to change or challenge _that_.

Bruce gave a thoughtful pause, then continued, "I understand your primary powers are hearing, speed, flight, invulnerability, strength, and heat vision, in roughly that order. We train at half-tempo, to start, but to properly spar and test your knowledge we need you not to be able to dodge twice as fast as we can strike. Starting now, limit your sunlight exposure. Let's see if we can bring you down to something approaching human abilities without having to use the kryptonite."

She couldn't suppress a shudder at the notion of kryptonite. She'd never even thought of that part of it. The Bats had the blue kind, which was much rarer and which only suppressed their powers, making it useful for training and for medical procedures. She was more likely to encounter green k in the field, and the mere thought nauseated her.

Limiting her sunlight was almost as bad, but she'd expected it. There was no point in training like a Bat if she could just fly past them at three times the speed of sound. Jason had no day-job at the time he had trained, only had been out for the summer between school years. He had been willing to forgo a daylight schedule mostly because it didn't truly limit anything. That was one thing he didn't talk about much when they'd discussed her training; how he had lowered his powers. Then, too, Jase had gone without his entirely at one point a while back. Really, though, how could she have expected anything different? "I figured as much," she sighed. "It's got to be done. I was up this morning, but I'll stop basking now and start staying indoors." So much for seeing Daddy every morning; Mom was right, she'd be making calls to keep in touch instead. Dammit.

"Good," he said, and clasped her shoulder affectionately.

Kala winced to bring this up, especially since this had been going reasonably well thus far, but it had to be said. Better to remind him of the situation she was in now. "I do have a few things left to do for the label. There's an interview, which I can do over the phone, and approving some designs, but I can do that online. Some of that might have to be scheduled in the morning, and I'm going to have to leave the house sometimes."

Bruce shrugged. "It can't be helped. Work around it as much as you can. We all have to put in time to maintain our civilian identities, but the mission comes first."

"Thank you," Kala said, with no little amount of relief, and Dick tugged gently at her hair.

"Don't let Bruce fool you, he's the one sleeping through all the Wayne Enterprises board meetings," he said, and Bruce looked at him imperiously. Kala snickered before she could help herself, and Dick slung his arm around her shoulders companionably as he continued, "Tim's glued to his computer, so I guess I'd better take Kala up to see him. Just because he's met her before doesn't mean he can ignore her moving in."

"That's fine," Bruce said, and shook his head in amusement as Dick led Kala away. She shot a grin up at him, suddenly very grateful for having found a kindred spirit in Dick for times like this. Not missing a beat, she slipped her arm around his waist, finding him a good height to match her pace.

Up the stairs and down a hall, but Dick stopped outside Tim's door, looking at her critically. Kala tilted her head, wanting to get on with their planned prank, but then he gave a sunny smile and ran his hand through her hair, rumpling it. Holding back laughter, she mussed his hair too, and they stood beaming at each other in anticipated amusement. She leaned close to his side, arm around his waist as he returned his arm to her shoulders. This might actually make up for that maskless Bat-sighting she'd just lived through. Poor Timmy.

Standing like that, Dick knocked on the door and opened it immediately. "Tim! How come you didn't come downstairs to say hi?" he said, in a voice dripping with cheer.

"Yeah, Timmy, that was the best way to make a girl feel welcome," Kala chuckled, looking up at Dick with a besotted smile.

Tim Drake was, of course, sitting at his desk and frowning at his computer. He looked up when the door opened, ready to complain at the intrusion, but stopped cold at the sight of Dick and Kala. They had intentionally made a very damning picture: standing close, arms around each other, with tousled hair and ecstatic grins.

"I thought I made you feel welcome enough," Dick teased, tugging Kala closer and kissing her hair.

She let a purring note enter her reply, curling against his side before nudging up to smooch his jaw. It was almost more fun to play at this at the moment than it would have been if it was real. Yeah, she was definitely going to enjoy life here with Dick Grayson. "You _do_ know how to treat a lady, Mr. Grayson. Glad _someone_ around here does."

From the corner of her eye, Kala could see Tim's horrified expression. He stared at the two of them, as Kala giggled and Dick grinned, then abruptly Tim made a scoffing noise. "You two are _sick_. Absolutely, disgustingly, sick and twisted."

Kala leaned her back against Dick's chest, looking concerned, as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "What's wrong, Tim?" he asked, sounding very concerned.

Tim was already looking back at his computer, and replied flatly, "Kala doesn't date capes, everybody knows that. And besides, Jason's sister is _not_ the kind of girl who hooks up with Gotham's town bicycle on her first day here. You're both just trolling. Get lost."

" _Tim!"_ Kala scolded, despite having known Dick's reputation as a rake. That said, she couldn't ever imagine quite describing a brother like that. Not even Sebast warranted a shot like that. "Oh my God, that's a horrible thing to say about your own brother!" Dick himself was just laughing so hard he could barely stand up. Kala just looked at the eldest of the Wayne boys in disbelief. She'd personally be at least bapping Timmy in the head for that one, especially in front of company.

Tim didn't even deign to look at her. "He revels in it. Ask Babs, Kori, Helena, God alone knows how many civvies. It's not even up for debate. At least _some_ of us have standards."

Dick recovered enough to reply, "Yeah, yeah, you're not exactly living a monk's life, Timmy. Two out of three Batgirls _and_ Wonder Girl, right? That's impressive."

"Shut up," Tim growled.

Okay, so, in households that only had brothers, sexual history got flung around like incendiaries. Good to know. Kala just sighed and shook her head; oh well, there went any chance for awkwardness. And she was worried that being a Bat was all seriousness and solemnity. "Annnnd this is why I don't date capes. One, you guys go through relationships like I go through outfits. Two, it all gets a little too incestuous eventually."

Tim huffed an annoyed sigh, but otherwise ignored them both. Dick led Kala away, closing the door behind him. Showing her to a room up the hall, he told her, "You're kind of right about the dating-within-the-team thing. And, yeah, the … well, the casualness. We were all teenagers and young adults together. Under stressful conditions like, say, fighting supervillains and occasionally saving the world, it's no surprise that we'd all get really attached. And given our ages, those attachments naturally led to us hooking up."

Kala just shrugged. Having never quite been in the situation, who was she to judge? "Battlefield conditions, I get it. You all know all of each other's issues, and after you've almost gotten killed, what better way to feel alive than kiss the person next to you?"

"Exactly. Glad you understand," Dick said, opening another door. Her bags were already unpacked, and she took in the huge four-poster bed and attached bathroom with an approving grin.

Then she turned to Dick and crossed her arms. "The thing is, when _I'm_ feeling that 'holy shit, we're still alive!' buzz, usually the one next to _me_ is Dopey. And tabloid press aside, _eww_. He's made of cooties. Like Tim."

Dick laughed aloud at that. "Yeah, no, I agree with you on both of them. Tim's my brother, Jason might as well be. Cooties forever."

And that was an interesting piece of information, implying that Dick also swung both ways. Not so surprising, when you considered the life that they led. At least she wasn't alone in it. Kala just smiled, shrugging a little. "So that's the Wayne Welcome. I think I'll get settled in, since it's getting close to lunch time. Somebody warn Alfred that you've talked him up."

"Oh, no warning needed," Dick laughed. "After lunch, when Bruce and Tim are plotting, I'll take you over to the Clock Tower so you can meet Babs. She's got a comm unit for you, and she wants you to go over your file in her database."

That made Kala take a deep breath. Having a registered file and a comm would make her, finally and irrevocably, one of the capes. Even though she already _was_ one of them in all the ways that mattered, even though she'd already faced the inevitability of it by deciding to do her training with the Bats this summer, somehow just mentioning the database made it all _real_ for her, all over again.

Dick noticed, and tilted his head quizzically. "It's nothing," she said, and offered an alternate truth rather than explain. "Mom says that Oracle is the single most scary-smart person she's ever met. And you know how many times she's faced off against Mr. My-IQ-Is-Immeasurable Luthor."

At that, he chuckled. "Yeah, well, Babs says your mom is the single most determined person _she's_ ever met, and that's coming from someone who went and got a new martial arts certification from a wheelchair. They must've _really_ impressed each other."

On that laughing note, Kala returned to her room to freshen up after the flight.

…

After Dick and Kala left him in peace, Tim finished the research he was working on – current pricing and movement of drug shipments in the vicinity of Gotham, via deep web transactions – and leaned back in his chair. Since no one could hear him, he muttered, "So it begins," in portentous tones, then laughed at himself.

Dick was a ham, he knew that, and Kala loved the spotlight too. Dealing with both of them together meant he was going to spend the summer playing straight man to their comedy routine. It was worth it, to finally get Kala squared away and officially on the roster.

Tim had been in favor of signing her up from that summer when Jason came to train with them. He liked Jason a lot, considered him his best friend in or out of uniform. That distinction would've gone to Steph, but she'd been his girlfriend too, and that was a whole other layer of meaning between them that thankfully he'd never need to worry about with a guy. It meant he could still love Steph, and not feel like he was betraying her by having a best friend, too.

He still missed her. That last escape of hers … she'd come too close to dying, and Tim shivered at the memory. _He couldn't find her._ He hadn't been able to save her. She shouldn't have been out there at all, in the middle of the city-wide gang riot, but Steph had touched it off and she was too responsible not to try and stop it. When it was her own guilt that had made her unfit to fight that night. Emotion was a liability to their mission, he'd told her that too many times, and she'd countered hotly that _everything_ they did was driven by emotion and he was an idiot living in denial.

Maybe she was right. Tim's admiration for Batman and the Robins, along with his concern for Batman's sanity after Jason Todd's death, had led him to don the tights and fight at Bruce's side. And it was Bruce's own grief and determination that no other child should lose what he'd lost that had driven him to create the Batman in the first place.

Tim gave a sad little laugh, thinking. When he'd thrown down his domino and walked out, it was seeing Stephanie in Robin colors that had brought him back. That was hardly a logical decision, it had been fueled by outrage and jealousy, and he guessed he couldn't blame Todd that much anymore. Although Tim hadn't attacked Steph for it the way Jay had attacked him.

And every time he remembered _that_ , his shoulder ached fiercely. It was only phantom pain, but those days in the hospital had left lasting reminders. Red Hood would _never_ get the drop on him again.

Which also reminded him that while Steph might be right, she was wrong, too. They couldn't let emotion make their decisions; it had to be chained to logic and reason. Her fear for him, and her anger at the ex-Robin who'd beaten him so badly, had led to her trying to confront Hood. That would've ended very badly, if the rest hadn't reined her in.

And Kala was part of that, too. She was the one who had actually _found_ Steph that night. Jason and Cassie talked her down, but without Kala to pinpoint her location, she might've run across Hood all on her own. At that point in time, he might've killed her just for being in his way.

According to Babs, Jay wasn't killing people. He was back in Gotham, he was coming down brutally on drug dealers and gangsters, but he wasn't killing. That was good enough for Tim. Let him stay in the Bowery and keep that under control. As long as he didn't get mixed up in their current investigations, the situation was tolerable for everyone.

Except Alfred, maybe, Tim thought as he headed downstairs. The butler who was father-figure to all of them had not exactly made it a secret that he missed Jay, and wanted him home and healed and sane and happy. Tim wasn't sure what kind of act of God it would take to manage _that_ , but it was beyond his capabilities. Beyond Bruce's, too. Tim was just happy not to have to check over his shoulder for a gun aimed at his back.

He padded into the kitchen to make himself a sandwich, and found Bruce already there, doing the same. They all had fast metabolisms due to the sheer amount of exercise they got, training and running rooftops, so even this close to lunch a quick sandwich wouldn't spoil anyone's appetite. "So Kala's here," Tim said.

"She is. And she's already playing pranks," Bruce observed.

Tim sighed. "We really should've known the rockstar and the circus boy would hit it off _instantly_. It's going to be the summer of the showboats."

"Their flair can be useful in the field," Bruce said. "But with restricted sunlight and some serious training, I imagine she'll settle down. This is probably just nervous high spirits."

Tim shook his head. "No, this is Kala. She's always like this. The first time someone in a press conference asked Jason if the Blur was his girlfriend, and he stuttered, she flew in from L.A. to leave a lipstick mark on his cheek in front of the press. She's quippy, she's bouncy, she's playful – that's just her style."

It was not the style of anyone currently in Gotham, except for the quips. Steph was the closest, and Tim wondered if Bruce missed Steph or still thought of her as a liability. That was a topic they carefully did not discuss, however.

"There's more than good humor and playfulness there," Bruce told him.

"I know," Tim said, waving a hand. "I know Jason, remember. I have a decent idea what the Nevada protocol is about, even if I don't have access to it."

"I doubt that," Bruce told him, and that was the end of that discussion, because Dick arrived and tousled Tim's hair.

"You ready for a summer of trolling, Timbo?" Dick laughed, grinning.

"I'm thrilled," Tim said, rolling his eyes.

"She's here to train, not to entertain you," Bruce warned, and it was Dick's turn to sigh heavily.

Tim crossed his arms and looked at them both. "Jason's worried about her, you know. Bruce, are you sure she's ready for this?"

Bruce turned away from the sandwich he'd been making and gave Tim his full attention. "Were you? Was Dick? Was _I?_ No one is ready for it. What makes a hero is what we do when we're faced with a challenge that's beyond our current capabilities. And from what I know of Kala, the only way she knows to react is to step up."

"See, Tim? It'll be fine," Dick reassured him with a side-hug.

Bruce actually smiled. "Also, she can probably hear you. Get used to that part now."

Tim poked Dick's side to make him let go, and muttered, "If she's listening, she knows I'm worried about her being okay. I _know_ her field capabilities, Bruce. I've wanted her in on this for years. It'll make everyone in the Titans happier to have our seal of approval." At that last, he eyed Dick, knowing how furious Kala had been at Donna's dressing-down.

"She's not just doing it for the Titans, she's doing it for herself," Bruce said. "And Kala herself is the only one who can say if she's ready, and the only one who can decide that she should be an official part of the Titans. I know both her parents, remember – you don't change either of their minds until they're willing."

Finally Tim just shrugged. "I don't want you thinking I'm not glad she's here. I am. I just…"

"Worry about everything, which makes you a good leader in the Titans because you take responsibility for everything and everyone," Dick put in. "You don't have to do that here. She's a grown up, Tim, and she's used to winging it solo. She'll fit herself in because this is what she wants to do."

Bruce had turned back to his sandwich, and finished it. "We're all glad she's here," he told Tim, with a slow smile.


	5. I'd Start a Revolution

After lunch, Kala found herself halfway across town, following Dick into what was known as the Clock Tower, possibly the most _interesting_ building she'd seen yet. There was no time to goggle at architecture, though; Dick brought her inside and across a lobby to an elevator that required a thumbprint scan to open. While the outside of the tower had looked almost Renaissance, the inside was thoroughly high-tech, the elevator moving smoothly upward with barely a whisper of mechanical noise. "We're coming in the front door because it's daytime," Dick told her. "Normally we just hop across roofs, and go in through the clock face itself. Don't ever try to drop in unannounced, though. Security is the tightest in the city."

On that note, the doors opened with a soft chime, and Dick grinned again. "And this is our illustrious communications manager, information broker, surveillance chief, and general fount of knowledge, Oracle, also known as Barbara Gordon," Dick said, his arm around Kala's shoulder as he ushered her into a room that was at least half computer monitors. "Babs, meet Kala Lane-Kent…"

The redhead in the wheelchair finished his sentence. "Superman's daughter, Superboy's sister, officially the Blur, known to the public as KLK, known within the community as Supergirl no matter how hard we try to stop them from using it." Only then did she wheel back from the screens and turn to look at Kala with thoughtful, assessing eyes. "Pleased to meet you, Blur."

"It's an honor, Oracle," Kala replied honestly, stepping up to shake her hand. She'd heard a lot about the commissioner's daughter and former Batgirl. Everyone had mentioned the keen intelligence that shone in those green eyes, but no one had quite prepared her for the intense presence the older woman had.

"Aw, look, you _do_ know how to be nice to the new kids," Dick teased.

Babs cut him a look that was fondly amused. "When they have manners. And no one's _quite_ as nice as you, Dick."

"You know, that should sound like a compliment," he replied.

"It wasn't," Babs told him dryly.

"Okay, I'm sensing some tension here," Kala said, her gaze flicking back and forth between the two. She'd heard that Dick and Babs had once been an item, but that seemed like old news. Their verbal sparring certainly had the flavor of exes. "Do I even want to know?"

"Long story," Dick said with a half-shrug.

"A long, boring, repetitive story," Babs added, and then nodded toward the bank of computers. "While I've got you here, I'd like to get your official registration done."

Kala welcomed the change of subject and followed her to the screens, Dick trailing them. With a few clicks of a keyboard, half of the monitors switched to display the information the League currently had on Kala. She gave a low whistle, especially at the clarity of the photos they had. "Wow. Jason told me everything was high-tech, but I didn't realize it was _t_ _his_ good."

"Ultra high-speed photography," Babs told her. "Designed for the military. With this many people sporting super-speed, it's very difficult to get shots of them in action any other way."

"The press would love this," Kala murmured.

"I'm sure you were quite pleased to be able to keep so much secret from them, especially given your family connections," Babs said. She ran through all the information gathered in the database, checking with Kala to correct estimates to actual values, and consistently surprising Kala with how much she knew or was able to infer.

Once they were done, Kala glanced at the database and nodded slowly, impressed. "You know, Oracle, four different people described you to me as 'ferociously intelligent'. I've gotta say, it's dead on the mark."

"Thank you," Babs replied with a hint of a smile.

"You might want to put that on your business card or something, since it's unanimous," Kala said. And then she returned the smile before glancing back toward Dick. She'd been very serious and well-behaved so far, but it wouldn't be a good idea to leave Oracle with the impression that she was a goody-two-shoes who always toed the line. That was the _last_ idea she wanted to leave everyone with, since it was so inaccurate. A bit of mischief was in order, and she had just the playful idea in mind to achieve it. "And you know, if Dick doesn't appreciate you, I'd be glad to."

 _That_ startled a chuckle from the redhead, and Dick blinked in surprise. From a doorway came a new voice, low and amused. "Thanks, but I've got that taken care of."

Kala turned sharply to see Dinah Lance, the second Black Canary and not coincidentally the Chairwoman of the Justice League, smirking at her. Her eyebrows went up; the last gossip she'd heard hadn't mentioned anything about Black Canary and Oracle being an item. _I wonder if this has anything to do with the tension between Dick and Babs? Heh, wanna bet? And now I guess I know how the Bats and the League always know everything about each other. Can you say 'insider information'?_

Dick smiled his most charming smile, dimples and all. "Nice to see you, Dinah. I thought you were in Seattle, though."

Dinah shrugged. "I got homesick. Seattle's too sunny for a Gotham girl. So, is Kala going to fly with the Birds, or did the Bats call dibs?"

"Any reason I can't do both? It's kind of my jam," Kala said, grinning, and Dinah grinned right back at her.

Dinah turned to Babs, who had steadfastly ignored their banter, and said, "I like this kid."

"You would," Babs replied dryly. "Official word is she's going to Bruce for training this summer. I'm sure we'll get her out with the Birds too. The more cross-training she gets, the better. Wouldn't you agree, Kala?"

Kala shrugged. "Well, in spite of my best intentions, it looks like I'm officially one of the capes. In the database and all. Might as well learn to work with everybody, right?"

"I'll tell Bruce it's my idea. He might not automatically veto," Dick said.

"So where are you staying, Kala?" Dinah asked.

"At the Manor," Kala replied, and Dinah looked skeptically at Dick.

But it was Babs who spoke. "Who thought that was a good idea?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" Kala said. "I've been hearing about Alfred's cooking for _years_."

Dinah crossed her arms. "All right, Dick. Whose idea was it to send the very attractive young Super to live in the Manor with all of you boys?"

"It's not like a frat house," Dick protested. "There's four of us, counting me, and I don't even live there full time! And counting Alfred and Bruce too."

"Whoa, time out," Kala interjected. "Hold on, ladies. Let me make this clear: despite the joke just now, I did _not_ come to Gotham to hook up. Just got out of a two-year relationship, I've got boy drama back home, this is my summer _away_ from all that. Besides, Timmy's like my brother and Dick … Dick and I already figured out this isn't a thing."

Babs turned away from the monitors and looked at her with one eyebrow raised. "You've been in Gotham less than twenty-four hours and already figured out it's not a thing?"

"Look, Dick and I are both natural flirts—as if you didn't notice that five minutes ago. It's a career asset for a rock star. But seriously, pretty as he is, I'm not here to get my freak on. I just want a nice, quiet summer learning how to fit in with the caped crowd, so they'll quit telling me what an untrained liability I am. Okay?" Kala paused, and then added, "Besides, if I _did_ decide to have a summer fling, it wouldn't be with someone who halfway lives in the same house I'm staying at. That'd just suck. You can never get away from each other. Not to mention, I don't think Uncle Bruce would approve."

"Bruce approves of very little," Babs said drolly. "Not that it stops most of us."

"She'll be all right," Dinah said with a chuckle.

"Thank you for the 'very attractive', by the way," Kala said with a wink. "It means a lot coming from you, since I know you have good taste."

"Somehow I don't think we have to worry about you and _boys_ ," Dick said with a hint of trepidation.

Kala just rolled her eyes. "Simmer down, Dick. It's just that most girls understand that five minutes of flirting doesn't mean I've already planned the wedding and named the first three kids. A lot of guys think if you even smile at them, you want them to climb into your pants. Women have some discretion. And they understand flirting for flirting's sake. So far you and my best friend are the _only_ men I've met who get that."

"Oh, Dick understands _all_ about flirting," Babs laughed, getting another look from him.

"This is going to be a very interesting summer," Dinah mused.

Dick just sighed, and held his hands up. "I'm _clearly_ outnumbered and outgunned here. Sheesh, Kala, I'm gonna have to up my flirt game just to stay in the same league as you."

That was an opening she couldn't pass up. Batting her lashes playfully, she retorted, "Dick, honey, my league is _literally_ out of this world. Don't even try."

"Enough banter," Babs said, but she was still smiling. "Operational efficiency comes first. Kala, here's your comm unit. It's packed inside a standard Bluetooth headset, but it has no cross-compatibility with mobile phone tech. The only people broadcasting on these frequencies should be me, and the other members of the League and the Titans. I keep everyone on separate bands to reduce chatter, unless we're working together. Everything is heavily encrypted and physically shielded – if someone gets your comm and tries to take it apart to reverse-engineer it, the unit will self-destruct. Not before sending its GPS coordinates here, of course."

Kala had to pay attention; the device did look _exactly_ like the kind of headset anyone could pick up at an electronics store, except there were a couple of extra buttons. Babs explained to her how to open a channel, which would put her through directly to Oracle or the Batcave or both, depending on who she was working with. She went over the volume adjustments and how to record, adding, "All communications are typically recorded, something these boys tend to forget when they're trash-talking each other all over my airwaves."

Dick had hopped up on a table, sitting cross-legged with the ease and grace that was his alone, and cut in to say, "Banter keeps us _awake_ on long stakeouts, so it increases operational efficiency, Babs."

Before the redhead could make a snarky reply, Dinah added, "Besides, you used to do your fair share of small talk over the comm. Or so I remember from before I knew you as anything other than a voice in my ear."

"That wasn't small talk, that was investigation," Babs said with a hint of a smirk. "I was recruiting you, Dinah. I had to know if you'd fit into the organization I was building."

Dick snorted. "Being the Chairwoman of the _Justice League_ is nice and all, but meeting Babs' standards is the real achievement. Right, Dinah?"

There were no barbs in his tone, which Kala found a little curious, and the way Dinah chuckled at him made it clear that the two of _them_ didn't have drama. Meanwhile Babs continued, "There's a hidden button here. You have to scrape off the plastic; a coin should do it. Or a fingernail, given your strength. The button itself is recessed and covered so it won't get pressed by accident. Don't use it unless the situation is dire, and you can't reach me or the Cave. Pressing that button will send a red alert to every comm in within a hundred miles, whether Titans or League. They will not be happy if they all drop everything for a false alarm, so make sure you really _want_ every available member converging on your location before you call them. Likewise, if you receive a red alert, I expect you to respond immediately. Cover your identity however you can, but if I'm out of commission or compromised, everyone has to rely on one another."

Kala nodded seriously, using her x-ray vision to peek through the thin plastic. "Has anyone ever had to use that?"

"Not yet," Babs said proudly, then followed it with, "but I'm not infallible or invulnerable. There has to be some fallback plan if someone gets to me."

Dinah smiled at Dick. "Yeah, it's called the whole damn League, including Titans, comes down on them like a ton of bricks. If they get past _you_ , it's gonna take all of us."

"Amen to that," Dick replied.

Babs rolled her eyes at both of them. "Speaking of vulnerabilities," she said, addressing Kala again with a stern look from green eyes. "I'm sure Bruce isn't going to let you go after the rogues. Gotham's masks are a whole other category from basically any other city in the world. But none of them play by our rules, so you may end up facing them eventually no matter how much he tries to hide you."

Kala just nodded; it made sense. The rogues would want to know who the new cape in town was, and most of them would figure that taking her apart and examining the pieces was the best way of doing so. She managed to suppress a shudder, but the lighthearted flirting mood of moments ago was thoroughly gone.

Barbara leaned back, fixing her with that intense gaze. "You should know that your powers won't protect you here. _No one_ is invulnerable. Kryptonite is for sale on the black market, but it's not as much in demand here because we have villains who don't need it. Scarecrow's fear toxin works on your brother, so we can assume it works on you. Poison Ivy's mind control also works on your father, though he broke her hold, so you would be vulnerable as well. We have no data on Joker venom but there's no reason to believe you would be immune."

Dick piped up to add, "Don't believe the crap you hear in the media about how Ivy's powers only work on men. She _prefers_ to use men when she needs mind-controlled goons, but her pheromones and toxins work on everyone."

"Except Harley," Dinah put in. "To date, Harley Quinn is immune to all known toxins, including Scarecrow's fear toxin. Possibly Joker venom as well."

Kala perked up at that. "Wait, what? _How?_ I thought she was originally a normal human, how is she immune to things that work on Kryptonians?"

Awkward silence, and then Babs said dryly, "Ivy did something to render her immune, is our best guess. The two have been romantically involved, and Ivy's kiss is eventually lethal to everything outside the plant kingdom."

Dinah just shook her head. "That's Ivy. It's not enough to make her girlfriend immune to _her_ , she went and made her immune to the whole damned world. Most drugs, too, as the guys at Arkham found out trying to sedate her."

Shifting around, Dick muttered, " _Someone_ whose codename starts with O thought it'd be a good idea to recruit the two of them. Then again, that's the same person mailing comms to people who've tried to kill us. And offering operational support to Task Force X, better known as the Suicide Squad."

Babs cut him another steely look. "Poison Ivy has a skill set that is, quite frankly, unparalleled by any other cape or mask. Her motivations are not like Joker's or Mask's or Two-Face's; she's more predictable than any of them. More reliable."

"Yeah, we can _rely_ on her to lay a smooch on Batman and take him out bank robbing," Dick groused. And seeing the wide-eyed look on Kala's face, he gave a chagrined shrug. "Look, I hate mind control. _Hate. It._ And she's capricious."

Continuing as if he hadn't interrupted, Babs said, "And when Harley is with Ivy, Harley is more predictable, capable of showing restraint or even compassion. The same when she's with the Suicide Squad. Whereas she and Joker make each other more dangerous, they encourage and dare each other to be even more out of control and deadly. Not to mention, in my personal estimation Harley is wilier than Joker. If she wasn't following his lead, she could be useful. Ivy could be the best way out of that situation, for Harley."

Dick didn't say a word, just made a grumpy noise. Kala knew he loathed Joker for what had happened to the second Robin, Jason Todd – and for what had happened to Babs herself. The wheelchair was a lot easier to ignore than the uninitiated might think – the strength of Babs' character and her sheer intelligence outshone it – but it was still there, and could not be forgotten.

Dinah spoke up. "The long and short of it is, don't take anything for granted. Don't assume you're safe. No one is safe in Gotham. And for the love of everything you hold dear, don't engage with the rogues. Capes who run like hell are capes who live to call for backup."

"Amen," Kala said, thoroughly discombobulated by the turn the conversation had taken. She could've kicked herself for coming into the game so late; there were undercurrents and old alliances and old heartaches here that she knew nothing about. Every time she dealt with the Titans _or_ the League it was like she'd walked into a movie halfway through it.

She took a deep breath, meeting each of their eyes in turn. "Okay, consider the newbie thoroughly warned. I'm not dumb enough to try and go prove any of you wrong; you've all done this a lot longer than me."

At that, Babs actually chuckled. "Sometimes it's nice working with adults instead of teenagers, isn't it, Dick?"

He managed a laugh. "Oh God yeah. Half the time if anyone told the Titans what not to do, we'd go out and do it that day."

"Because you were all completely ridiculous," Babs replied.

"Says the woman who stuck her tongue out and told _Batman_ to get bent, when he tried to send her home," Dick shot back, and that got them all laughing.

…

Kala was in bed early that night, while everyone else was out on patrol. She had been up early that morning – before dawn, to watch the sunrise with her father – and needed to adjust her schedule. Training would start tomorrow.

For now, though, she needed to make a few calls. She rang Sebast first, so she could make the excuse of still needing to talk to her parents. Otherwise the pair of them would talk all night. He claimed to be pining for her, and she laughed at him. "There's still three months to go, Chupi. That'll give you time to seduce every man in L.A."

"Eww, no. That's a tall order even for me, and most of them are already madly in love with themselves," he shot back.

A little more chat before she signed off with him, sighing. Truth be told, Kala already missed him too. As much fun as Dick was, as familiar as Tim was, and as intriguing as the Birds of Prey were, none of them could fill the ache in her heart that quieted at the sound of Sebast's voice.

But oh, she _had_ to learn to cope with that somehow, before Sebast realized just how far she'd fallen from their platonic lifemates ideal. It was just one night, they'd both been drunk and celebrating the first sold-out show, and they'd _always_ shared a bed and even a few kisses over the years. It shouldn't have changed anything that they'd shared a lot more that night. Sebast was still Sebast, still chasing every handsome man that crossed their path, and Kala had still been his best friend. She'd picked right back up with Marlene during their second tour, too, the one where that sold-out show led the lineup. She and Sebast had never talked about that one night, not even the morning afterward. Kala had pretended nothing unusual happened, and Sebast had never treated her any differently.

She had to get away from him this summer to keep the awkwardness tamped down. The tour was one thing, they were too damned busy most times to do anything more scandalous than snore at each other, but she knew if she'd spent this summer at the house in Metropolis with him, something bad would've happened. Either he would've noticed that her desperate high school crush had resurrected itself from its rightful grave, or she would've had a jealous fit over the men he brought home, and no matter how it happened it would've hurt their friendship. And he was one of the most important men in her life, right up there with Dad and Jase. Kala couldn't lose Sebast.

So this summer served two purposes, and she squared her shoulder and took a deep breath before making the second call. "Hi Mom," Kala chirped as soon as she heard the phone picked up.

There was a familiar husky laugh then, her mother clearly laughing before spoke. "Your father called it being you. Hey, sweetheart," Lois replied warmly, instantly making Kala homesick. She would never have believed that Dr. Marrin would be right, but it was true: once she and her mother weren't walking on one another's toes, they would actually miss each other. This was especially true tonight. "How are you settling in at the Wayne Shelter for Lost Children?"

Kala spluttered laughter, hearing the title in her tone. Yep, as much as Mom had implied her affection for the boys, her frustration at Uncle Bruce's choices was clear. "Oh my God, Mom, you have no idea how perfect that is. These are all lost boys. Guess that makes me Tinkerbell."

"At least it's not Wendy," Lois said quickly. "Remember, I _know_ Bruce. I know it _too_ well. Besides, they already have Alfred for Wendy. And Tinkerbell can fly and produces the level of glitter you occasionally shed. I hope your Dad warned him." In the background, Kala could hear her father chuckle.

She had to grin at that, but it faded quickly when she thought of her uncle's orders earlier. "Yeah, I won't be flying for much longer," Kala sighed, fighting a moment of melancholy. This was going to be so damn hard. "No more sunbaths. Which, okay, it's probably hard to train somebody in general-purposes assbeating if they can just hover overhead and yell 'nyah nyah nyah' the whole time, but still. So there goes any chances of flying home for dinner, or meeting Dad at dawn anymore." That brought unexpected dampness to her eyes. She had know that there would have been rules for her training, that her powers gave her too much of an advantage and they would have to be mitigated, but her moments in the morning with her father were important to her, especially now that she was on the road so much. "I was hoping that that last wouldn't be messed with too much, but … yeah. I'm sorry, Daddy. I wish I could, but I'm going to be the princess in the keep while I'm here."

Mom had to have heard her mixed feelings with that words. "My baby, it's all right," Lois murmured, sympathy in her voice that took Kala back to moments in her childhood. It was the tone her mother had always used after either twin had been frightened or awoken from a nightmare. Kala could almost feel her mother's hand stroking through her hair. "It's only for a little while, Kala. You know we'll miss you. You'll be too busy to miss us, but it's just not the same without you popping in every so often. What'll I do if I actually get to eat my own leftovers?"

That startled the film of tears from her eyes. Leave it to her mother to provoke tears of longing and then laughter within minutes. "Mom!" Kala laughed. "I love you. That's why I don't eat _all_ your leftovers. Even if you do have the best chef in the universe in your kitchen."

"I know. I'm just teasing." Lois chuckled, then continued, "So _are_ you settling in? How's it going?"

Kala flopped on her back, staring at the ceiling with the phone against her ear. "Well, I got to meet the main household this afternoon and I just got back from Clock Tower. I think I may steal Alfred; I've known him maybe three hours and I need to figure out the feasibility of sneaking him out. I'm pretty sure I'm in love." That drew a chuckle. "Tim and Uncle Bruce are the same as always, although it's weird just how different Uncle Bruce is, in and out of the cowl."

That triggered a snort from Lois. "No, weird is just par for the course with Bruce. Living there, you'll probably discover that your dad's bestie is quite the interesting man. Your dad told me that our first Robin is in residence?"

Kala grinned wider at that; it was always a revelation, just how well informed her mother always was. "Yes. Yes, he is. He's supposed to have the summer off, so he's staying here instead of Blüdhaven. And the pictures just don't do him justice. Dick's just ridiculously pretty, and we have the same sense of humor."

Again, the chuckle. "Yeah, you know your dad and I know him. It's not like you don't know the story of where his code-name came from, after all of your lessons with the Giant Floating Head. Both of us figured that you two would get on like a house on fire."

Actually, Kala hadn't really thought about the legend of Nightwing and Flamebird in context to either of them, but that gave her pause. For a moment she could only sit there in silence. Wow, there was something that made their frank discussion in the limo seem eerie in retrospect. Yeah, no. Neither of them needed that in the least; she would not be bringing that up to Dick now. No echo of legend here. Better to just let that go. Quickly, regaining her equilibrium, Kala rushed on, "Also I got to meet Babs, and you're right, _scary_ smart. Also, right: I'm not making the mistake of underestimating _anything_ about her. She's just … wow. Plus Dinah; it's weird meeting her here with her Chairwoman hat off. When she's not heading off a major crisis, she's pretty chill for being who she is. Anyway, I'm officially registered now, I have my own super fancy headset and they taught me the secret handshake."

"That's my girl," Lois said with level of satisfaction that warmed Kala's heart, and she heard her father echo the sentiment. Seven years ago, that statement would have irritated her to distraction; now it was a thing she was proud of. Her mother continued, "You don't need to hear this, because you're doing this for yourself and not for us, but we're both proud of you. You know that, right?"

"I know, Momma," Kala replied, unable to keep the husky tearful note from her voice. A wave of sudden homesickness rose up in an overwhelming wave, but she guessed she should have known it was coming. New places, new people, too much information at once, a high level of expectation. It was no wonder she was shaky tonight, as long as she could shake it off by tomorrow. No showing weakness on her first day. She could do this, she _would_ do this. "I love you both so much. It may take a couple of days to get a call out to Dopey and Elise; pass it on? And they better call a few times. "

"I will," Lois assured her. "Your brother misses you, too, sweetheart. The shoe's on the other foot this time around; he'll probably spent most of the next three months worrying about you every minute, just like you did. It's just that he's not as good at hiding his anxiety."

"Nor should he be, Lois. We love you too, munchkin," her father said, knowing her hearing would pick it up despite the cell phone interference. "Now go out there and show them all what _we_ already know."

"That you're a genetically-certified badass," Lois teased, and that got Kala laughing again.

"All right, I have to go," she finally told them. "Training starts tomorrow. Wish me luck?"

Clark did, but Lois chuckled. "How 'bout I wish _Bruce_ luck? I think he's gonna need it." On that note, Kala ended the call, and when she slept there were no dreams.


	6. A Matter of Time

The next morning – or afternoon, really – Kala headed down to breakfast. She dressed for the workout she expected, tank top and loose-fitting pants like she'd worn to her karate classes years ago. The others were dressed similarly, ready for training.

Alfred made pancakes just for her, but she couldn't eat as heartily as Bruce or the boys. She wasn't nervous, not really. More expectant. Maybe even excited. She ate lightly, eager to get on with it. Bruce glanced at her plate and shook his head with a little smile. "All right, everyone down to the Cave. I'll meet you in the gym."

Tim and Dick both accompanied her downstairs, via a secret passage behind the grandfather clock. When Kala stepped out, the space revealed was vast, echoing, smelling like limestone and cold clear water. She paused, peering around, and the boys let her look. Dick decided to show off his tour guide impression, saying "Over there is the trophy room, further right is the main computer, to your left is parking for the Batmobile, and straight ahead we've got the gym, the workshops, and the library. Watch your step – there aren't guardrails for most of it, and the drop's nasty."

Kala noticed that the lighting was especially harsh and tightly focused, so that the rooms and walkways were brilliantly lit but the spaces between were utterly dark. Extra confusion for an intruder. Tim and Dick were heading toward the gym area, Dick hanging back a little, when Kala heard a faint fluttering noise.

She looked up just as a bat swooped through the lights. Tim turned and saw her gaze tracking the little flying creature, smiling happily at it. He chuckled. "Yes, there are actual bats in the Batcave. Big browns, mostly, but we have some little browns, and we get tri-coloreds and long-nosed bats in the winter. Not as cute as meerkats, but they'll have to do."

"They're adorable," Kala said with honest wonder in her tone, as the bat swooped down to circle her briefly.

Dick grinned at her. "Yeah, but they're not housebroken. Part of the reason for the lighting down here is to discourage them from flying over important stuff. Bruce also did something to the cave ceiling to keep them from roosting right above certain spots. You can't have the computer shorting out thanks to bat guano."

"Then they shouldn't have put a computer in your cave, isn't that right?" Kala murmured, clearly talking to the squeaking creature fluttering near her. The bat made another circle, squeaking, and she tried to chirp right back at it.

That time, it back-winged and flew close to her face, chittering louder and more indignantly. Kala laughed, still trying to mimic it, and more bats came to investigate. Half a dozen flapped around her, and she rose from the floor gently.

Watching her float up, Dick and Tim went quiet. It was easy to forget that she wasn't just a normal girl, but seeing her slip from gravity's hold made the fact of her Kryptonian heritage quite clear. Soon she was hovering near the ceiling, forty feet above the walkway, and more bats left their perches to circle around her. Kala hung there, not chirping at them anymore, but the sight of a person hovering in their realm evidently disturbed them.

All of a sudden the whole group detached and swirled around her, close to a hundred of them in a sweeping bat-storm that came close enough to ruffle her hair, though none of them touched her. The sound of their inquisitive squeaks grew louder, but not enough to drown out Kala's cheerful laughter.

She held out one hand, and the most persistent bat actually landed on it, staring up into her face and chirping. Propped up on its wings, its huge ears and tiny nose worked frantically as it tried to sort out what she was.

Kala smiled, obviously charmed, and made a soft kissing noise at the bat. Meanwhile Tim crossed his arms and sighed. "Congratulations, you're the first Goth Disney Princess. You know they can carry rabies, right?"

"I'm probably immune," Kala replied lightly, and at the sound of her voice the bat bolted. The rest did too, skirling around her briefly before disappearing into the deep shadows of the cave.

Kala let herself descend to the floor, and Dick grinned at her. "C'mon, let's get started." The three of them headed over to the gym area, which had mats on the floors and plenty of open space in which to spar. Unlike a lot of the 'rooms' down here, it had straight, solid walls. To one side was an array of strength-training and acrobatic equipment, but none of that held Kala's interest. Her eyes were on the two boys, studying them, since she was pretty sure they'd be sparring at some point. And she loved sparring, but she loved _winning_ at it more, so every scrap of information was useful. Both of them moved with the easy grace of highly trained athletes, but Tim was more conservative, more contained. Kala decided Dick was probably more the more dangerous opponent.

Somehow Bruce had reached the gym ahead of them, and he gave Kala an assessing look. "Warm up however you like, then I'll have you spar with … hmm, Dick first," he said. "I want to get a baseline and see where you need improvement. You had several years of karate, right? Seido juku?"

"To a blue belt, before my powers came in," Kala told him, and decided on katas for a warm up. From the corner of her eye she watched Dick and Tim warming up as well. Dick chose stretches that looked a lot like yoga, while Tim opted for martial arts katas from a style different to her own. Again the contrast, Dick's moves were fluid and expansive, while Tim's were controlled and precise.

In a few minutes her muscles were warm and loose, and that expectation that wasn't nervousness had reached a keen pitch. Kala looked to Bruce, who nodded to Dick. With one last stretch, Dick stepped forward, asking, "Hand to hand or melee?"

Bruce gave that some thought, glancing between the two of them. "Weapons rack is over there," he told Kala. "Dick, play the bad guy. Kala, take him down. If you can."

A bright, fierce grin lit up her face then. "Oh hell yeah," she laughed, and took a few dancing steps back, watching Dick to see which weapons he'd choose.

He glanced at the rack, then grinned. "Most of the bad guys in this town use guns, and they wouldn't know an escrima stick if you threw it at them. Let's just grapple this down, shall we?"

"Sure," she shot back, and came in with a flying kick. He slipped aside, aiming a strike at her center mass, and then they were trading blows and feints and parries. For Kala, it was like dancing, in a way. Every match had its own rhythm, and she had to watch her partner and figure out his moves the same way she did on the dance floor.

She let herself get absorbed in it, trying to find some weakness to exploit. Dick was smooth and swift, watching her with the same keen attention, and she quickly learned not to let her guard down even for a second. Still, she felt she was holding her own reasonably well…

… movement behind her, and Kala never knew whether she glimpsed a shadow or simply felt the air being disturbed, but instinct told her to _move,_ _ **now**_ and she obeyed without thinking. Tim's staff swept through the space where her shoulders had been a moment ago, and she whirled on him, her expression surprised. But Bruce was standing impassively by, and she figured in a real fight, she could expect the bad guys to have backup.

Her initial instinct to bolt had left her fifteen feet back from them … and eight feet off the ground. No matter what they'd agreed on, Kala couldn't _not_ use her powers when she felt threatened. Since she'd already screwed up – and since the two of them together, with Tim armed, would pin her against the wall in moments if she dropped back to spar unarmed – she decided to just roll with it.

Kala darted at Dick, pouring on the speed and stopping inside his guard to hit him with an elbow to the chest. Gently, though, this was sparring, not fighting, and she wanted to knock him back, not _out_. In the next instant she was on Tim, sweeping his legs out from under him with a scything kick, slapping the staff with enough of her strength to rip it from his hands.

Then back to Dick, who had recovered even in those scant seconds, but she wasn't going to let him enjoy it. Kala rushed him, and before he could even get his hands up into guard position she'd seized him by the shirt … and held him, his feet dangling, up near the ceiling. All the Robins were trained to take a fall, so the height was less of an issue for him than it would've been for most, but any normal mugger on Gotham would've been clutching her arm in a panic at the prospect of a twenty-foot drop.

Tim had rolled to his feet, and Kala looked over at Bruce. "This is the part where I'd be zip-tying Dick before going back for Tim. I know we said no powers, but this _is_ how I'd handle it in the field, if an accomplice surprised me like that."

Bruce nodded, thoughtful. Dick, meanwhile, just asked, "Can I call dibs on a flight before this is all over?"

Kala drifted back down, letting him go. "Be careful what you wish for. Nobody ever volunteers to fly with me twice. I'm not Dad – it's less first-class luxury airliner and more fighter jet."

Dick just grinned. "You're talking to an adrenaline junkie. I've done HALO jumps and I don't have the powers to save my bacon if it goes wrong. Bring it, Kala."

"That's a deal," she laughed back, catching his hand and shaking it.

Tim, meanwhile, just looked at them. "You use your powers like a crutch," he told Kala. "We're not going to be able to do much more than show you techniques until the sunlight diet kicks in. There's no point in sparring if you have that to save you."

Kala's blood was up from the fight, and she turned to Tim, tossing a stray hair out of her eyes. "I use my powers to _save my ass_ , yeah," she snapped. "Same way you use your training and your scary-smart brain, Timmy. Don't we _all_ use everything we have?"

"Stop," Bruce said, stepping between them. "Kala, that was not an insult. Tim's right. We as humans cannot effectively train you as long as you have the powers. That said, a crutch isn't the right metaphor."

Tim nodded then, but Bruce wasn't done. He squared up to Kala and fixed her with the _look_ that was all Bat. "You cannot evade every attack. Whether through lack of sunlight, or blue kryptonite exposure, you are going to take some hits, Kala. Adjust your expectations now. And adjust your perceptions as well. Dick and Tim are both your superiors in martial arts training and vigilante experience. Taking constructive criticism respectfully is an asset to any warrior."

She took a deep breath then, biting back her defensiveness. Tim stepped in then. "I've always been your brother's friend, and I'm younger than you. It's hardest to take criticism or training from a peer. I know; Cass handed my butt to me too many times, and it always stung. But I know you do actually respect my capabilities – and I respect yours."

"So let's all sing Kumbaya and be friends despite kicking the crap out of each other," Dick said cheerfully. "In the meantime, Kala, I don't think you have a lot of evasive maneuvers – other than, you know, warp speed. Let's work on that to start?"

"And tighten up your katas," Bruce said. "Your form is off, but that's to be expected with years out of training."

Kala squared her shoulders and let out a sigh, rolling her shoulders to dispel the tension. It was discouraging as hell to hear all that, with Troia's rant still echoing in her mind, but she'd come here to train. "You're right," she said. "And Tim – yeah, I know. I'm sorry. You're the leader of the Titans for a reason."

He smiled at her. "I'm also the DM on game night. Don't worry. You're good, and we'll help you get better."

"I can get with that," Kala said fervently.

…

After a long two weeks of martial arts and weapons practice twice a day—dancing and karate were good for staying fit, but the Bats' idea of 'in shape' was enough to leave even a Super sore and tired until her body adapted—Kala finally felt ready to do something more than just practice. She was getting antsy, in fact, watching everyone else leave for patrol while she sat in her room and hung out with Alfred. He introduced her to British drama on Netflix, and told her the stories behind the antique suits of armor. He wouldn't let her help him clean, though, and that left her browsing the library, breathing the scent of leather bindings older than she was – older than her parents, too.

As lovely as that was, and as much as she enjoyed Alfred's company, she'd come here to train as a hero. And that meant more than just martial arts. Kala felt like a dilettante, laying around the manor while the rest were kicking butt.

The conversations the rest were having tantalized her, too. Two-Face and Riddler were squabbling over territory, Black Mask was making another bid for control of the drug trade, but all of it seemed rather tame by Gotham standards. No city-wide riots, and entire crews of dealers weren't being killed in a single night. This was mostly thugs going to the hospital after scuffling with one another. None of the actual big-name rogues were out on the streets, just their goons.

And the worst of Gotham's rogues, the Joker himself, was safely locked up in Arkham.

So after sparring one evening, as Dick turned to go – Bruce had already disappeared – Kala asked if she could join them. "You guys are on kiddie patrol anyway, reining in that string of break-ins in the Diamond District," she said. "I'll just tag along and be surveillance. I can't learn how to do the street stuff in a gym, Dick, I've got to at least see it in action."

"You're not ready yet," Dick told her, laying a hand on her shoulder apologetically.

She arched an eyebrow at him. "C'mon, Dick, you guys are training me for this. I know the city, and I can get away if it gets hot."

Dick still shook his head. "You won't, though. That's not who you are. If it looks like trouble, you'll jump in instead of run away. Kala, trust me, it's not time yet. Robins usually get _at least_ six months of training before they go on light patrol. Be glad your prior experience and abilities will shorten that to a few weeks. I promise, you'll get to patrol before you leave."

With that he left, and Kala retreated to her room to sulk. She'd get to patrol before she _left_? In _August_? She'd spent so much time psyching herself up for this, finally getting her mind settled so she was actually _eager_ to do the one thing she'd held off from for so long, and now that she finally wanted to patrol, she couldn't do it.

Not only was life unfair, it had a sadistic sense of humor.

She flopped onto her bed, propping her chin on her crossed arms. Kala had once wanted nothing more than to be a part of her father's legacy—until the year she turned sixteen, when she saw how badly warped that desire could become. Ever since then she'd avoided it, afraid that the events in Nevada had left a lasting mark on her soul. Afraid, if she were honest, that she had a little too much of the villain in her to ever make a good hero.

But like her father and brother, she couldn't ignore the need for her skills. The drive to help people was too deeply ingrained to ignore. She had done saves anonymously, using her speed and flight, but as Jason became more involved in the Titans, she found herself coming to his aid often enough to have earned a nickname from the press—and more than one scolding from heroes with more seniority. Kala had had to face the truth: she either needed to give up the caped business for good, or learn how to do it the right way. And since option one was no option at all – Dick was right, she couldn't see trouble and walk away from it – she'd gone to train with the Bats.

She _was_ ready. She wasn't some green teenager who couldn't be trusted on patrol. Kala had started to resent being left behind, and resented even more the realization that she was sulking exactly like the teenager she decidedly wasn't. Probably this was all part of some over-arching semi-mystic lesson Uncle Bruce meant to teach her, about patience or teamwork or something.

Kala rolled over onto her back with a sigh. The number one thing that Donna—and a few others—had complained about was her impetuosity, her tendency to go haring off on her own instead of consulting and making plans with the team. Considering the fact that Kala usually only got involved in do-or-die situations, it shouldn't have surprised them that she didn't go in for patient deliberation. But following orders while she was here would help polish the tarnish off her reputation. So she'd sit, and wait patiently, and _not_ bite Tim's head off when he corrected her form by some imperceptible millimeter.

Just then, her phone rang. The number was unlisted, so Kala thought about just hitting the 'Ignore' button, but what the hell. She had nothing better to do tonight, might as well mess with a telemarketer's mind. She and Sebast had made up a number of routines to confuse annoying sales callers, but the Russian mobsters skit required two people. However, there was one that was best done by Kala alone…

Picking up her cell, Kala pressed the 'Talk' button and purred in a French accent, "Mademoiselle Claudette's House of Delights, where all your fantasies come true. Our ladies are ready and waiting to give you the experience of your dreams. This call will charge your phone service provider four dollars per minute. Stay on the line to accept the charges, _s'il vous plaît_."

That made most people hang up in a hurry, but instead she heard a dry chuckle. A _familiar_ dry chuckle. "I'm not worried, I know how to reverse charges. Do you have an operator named Kala, by any chance?"

The horror that shot through her then was on an astronomic scale. Of all the people… "Holy shit, Babs?" she yelped, turning crimson. Talk about wanting to crawl into a hole and die. "I thought you were trying to sell me an extended car warranty!"

The chuckle bloomed into a laugh, but not a cruel one; they were sharing this particular joke. "Not hardly. I was just checking to see if you were on patrol."

"No, I'm stuck in the Manor. Apparently it's too soon to turn me loose on the mean streets of Gotham." She tried to make light of it, but was sure Babs heard the bitterness lurking beneath her tone.

"Did Bruce ground you?" the redhead asked.

Kala bristled. She hadn't been quite _that_ stupid. And she hadn't even been allowed to do enough yet for Bruceto have reason _to_ ground her. "No. I asked Dick if I could go with them tonight, and he said no."

"So no one actually told you that you _had_ to stay in the Manor."

Kala scoffed. "I'm not going patrolling solo. I don't want to get kicked out this fast."

"Who said anything about patrolling? Leaving you home is wasting valuable training time. They won't be home until at least two in the morning. Come over here—if the boys want to have boys' night out, then the girls can have some quality time too."

"Hell yeah," Kala said, bounding to her feet. _That_ sounded like a much better way to spend her evening, and the original Batgirl surely had lots to teach her. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes. I just have to borrow a car. Good thing they have plenty, right?"

…

Kala expected a computer hacking class. What she found was Babs waiting for her in the Clock Tower's training room, the wheelchair parked dead center, and a pair of escrima sticks crossed in her lap. There was something else in her hand, a small metal case, and Kala's reflexive glanced proved it was opaque. Lead, then, and she halted at the door, watching the redhead warily.

"In two weeks I expect Bruce to have taught you the basics of several types of combat," Babs said. "But that's not long enough to have brought your powers down to where sparring will be effective. So I have blue kryptonite here, which I'll open with your permission."

Something dark swam up from the back of Kala's mind. Kryptonite – the sting of saltwater in her eyes and up her nose, the deep green of seawater surrounding her as she thrashed for the surface. Worse, the pain lancing through every cell of her body, making her ears ring hellishly, every breath on fire as Dru-Zod gasped his last beside her. Kryptonite was death. Worse, kryptonite was torture.

She stared at the box in Babs' hand, and swallowed. "Blue?" she managed to croak.

Babs, bless her, was smart enough to see her reaction, and wise enough to know what she feared. "The blue variant is extremely rare. We used it training Jason. It negates your powers but has no other effects, and like all kryptonite the radiation has a very short half-life. You shouldn't feel anything, but you'll be at human level."

Kala knew she had to deal with this fear, sooner or later. Even with the sound of Luthor's ghostly laughter in her ears, she knew that sooner was better. So she made herself walk over to Babs, every step leaden, and take the little box from her. It had two clasps, the lid snugged down tight, and with a deep breath Kala flipped them both and opened it.

The sample had to be tiny, to fit in such a small box, but it was enough. She startled as she suddenly went deaf; well, deaf to her standards. Kala could still hear the enormous clock ticking, but she couldn't hear Babs' breathing anymore, or her heartbeat. Or the susurrus of city noise all around them which had followed her most of her life. The quiet was unsettling. Not even the Kansas fields or the North Carolina mountains were this silent.

Her vision wasn't quite blurry, but it had lost its declarative sharpness, and when she looked at distant objects they didn't leap into clarity as they usually did. The infrared and x-ray vision were surely gone as well, but she didn't use those as often and their lack wasn't immediately obvious.

And her sense of smell was flatly _gone_ , as if the terrible allergies and sinus problems that had plagued her as a child had returned. Kala sniffled reflexively, but her nose was clear. It just wasn't bringing in any information. Well, a hint of something mild, maybe hand lotion, and with a deeper sniff she caught a reassuring whiff of her own perfume. Before revealing the blue kryptonite, she'd been able to smell the oil in the wheelchair's bearings, and the roses in a vase two rooms away.

"You're all right?" Babs asked, watching her.

"Yeah, but it's one hell of a head trip, realizing how much I take for granted," Kala said, then shook herself a little. "I feel okay, just … half-deaf and nearsighted and totally nose-blind."

Babs smiled. "Working within limitations is an asset to any crime-fighter. Still want to spar?"

"Sure," Kala said, handing back the kryptonite. Without powers, this was going to be _very_ different from her training sessions with the boys. Well, Bruce had said she needed to accept the idea of taking some hits, and that was something else she might as well start now.

Babs slipped the kryptonite into a pocket on the side of the wheelchair, where its radiation still affected Kala but they wouldn't lose track of it. "All right then. Choose your weapon from the rack to your left, and let's see how much you've learned."

Slowly, Kala did so, picking a staff like Tim's without ever taking her eyes off Babs. "For the record, I know what's about to happen here," she said.

"Oh, really? I didn't know precognition was one of your powers. Enlighten me." Her eyes behind the lenses gleamed with good humor.

"We both know I'm absolutely about to get my ass handed to me on a platter," Kala replied bluntly.

That won her another laugh. "You think so?"

Kala cautiously took a position slightly to Babs' left, the staff in guard position as she slowly circled. "I know so. This is supposed to teach me never to underestimate an opponent, or something like that. Thing is, I already _know_ you're better than me. When you were Batgirl you probably could've kicked my ass to Star City with both arms tied behind your back. Why should it be any different now, when you're even _more_ badass and determined than you were then?"

"I see why Dinah likes you," Babs mused. She turned the chair easily, keeping up with Kala's circling. "And yes, for most people this would be a lesson in not pitying the crip, but I knew you didn't need that. What you need is sparring practice, and I'm free to give it to you. So come on—take me down. If you can." She smiled again, real enjoyment in it.

"No holds barred, anything goes?" Kala let her voice lilt up, making it a question. Her hesitation wasn't fear; she liked a fight, a little too much sometimes.

"Sounds fair to me." Babs was grinning then, the fierceness that normally showed in her intellect coming out to play at the prospect of sparring.

"Deal," Kala replied, letting her own grin show, and lunged to the fight.

…

An hour later Kala was sprawled flat on the mats, her hair drenched with sweat, and bruises forming all over the place. She really missed the invulnerability, about then. "Running over my ankle was really not necessary, just for the record," she said.

"Does that mean you give up?" Babs asked politely. She was on the other side of the room, easily five feet away from her chair. Kala had finally knocked her from it twenty minutes ago, and her instinctive consideration had assumed that put Babs at a disadvantage. Getting her legs swept out from under her and a stick slammed into her shoulders had disabused her of that notion, and when she finally got to her feet again she'd chosen to get distance before she collapsed rather than try to continue the fight.

"For now, yeah," Kala sighed, and closed her eyes.

"Good." Babs rolled over and began crawling to her chair.

Kala sat up at that, but she had sense enough to ask, "Need a hand?"

"Nope, I'm fine," Babs said. The muscles in her back and shoulders rippled as she reached the chair and righted it, then clambered in.

Even without the use of half her body, she still had a kind of grace and surety that was frankly impressive. "You must have incredible upper body strength," Kala said.

Babs grinned again, tired this time but still game to spar verbally. "My lower body strength is actually pretty good too. I spend two hours a day on a modified exercise bike with electrodes making my legs work the pedals, like Christopher Reeve. Keeps the muscles toned, lowers my risk of blood clots, and generally makes life easier."

"So if you like, zapped a taser in just the right spot, you could _literally_ kick my ass," Kala commented thoughtfully, and they both chuckled at that mental image.

"I'll put that suggestion through Wayne Enterprises R&D," Babs replied. She took out the kryptonite and closed the container.

Kala gasped as her senses returned, swamping her with the steady thunder of both their heartbeats, the city's muted roar, every fiber of the mats suddenly visible, and the smell of exertion-sweat suddenly acrid enough to sting. "Holy shit," she muttered, bracing herself on her hands as the room seemed to spin, but normality reasserted itself – along with a host of pinprick tingles in her arms, legs, and back, as her injuries started to heal.

Babs even sounded impressed, as she remarked, "I can actually see that big bruise on your forearm fading. Nice to know the blue k clears extremely quickly."

"And I'm not even in the sun," Kala said, wincing a little. It wasn't fair that she could heal such minor injuries so easily, especially not in front of Babs, who had to worry about things like blood clots even this long after her own injury.

"That's enough sparring for one day," Babs said, and if she felt any envy, it didn't show in her voice. She continued, "While you're here, I wanted to tell you that if you ever have any questions or doubts, you can come to me. I respect Bruce a great deal, but I know him. And he does _not_ understand women. The boys … well, they're boys. If you need a female perspective, or just a different one, I'm always here for you."

"Thank you," Kala said, heartfelt. "It's not that bad. I … well, I'm not good at taking criticism, but who is? I've run more or less solo this whole time and I'm not so keen to play obedient student. At least he's not making me call all three of them sensei."

Babs scoffed at that. "If he doesn't expect rebellion from you, he's being willfully blind. Nothing in your history suggests that you'll accept censure from _anyone_ other than your parents until that person demonstrates superior knowledge or skills to you."

Kala nodded, a little chagrined. "Which is a long-winded way of saying 'arrogant'. I know. And now I see why you wanted to prove your chops before saying anything. Smart, but anyone who doesn't expect _you_ to be five steps ahead is also being willfully blind."

Shrugging one shoulder, Babs replied, "Knowledge is more powerful than muscle. As for why I sparred with you before making the offer, that had more to do with working off the frustration of not being allowed in the field. Bruce is too careful, these days. He hasn't always been that way, and it cost him. Too much. That said, unless he tells you that you're not allowed, you can go on patrol with my Birds."

Perking up, Kala knew her surprise and delight was obvious in her expression. "Really? He hasn't said _no_ , he just hasn't taken me out yet."

"It's a quiet summer on the masks side," Babs told her, smiling. "We're dealing with the regular gangs, for the most part. Someone might be mobilizing what's left of the Sullivans to ally with the Falcones, and of course the Maronis and the Dimitrovs are fighting each other like always. I think you'll be fine, dealing with their street-level people, and there's no one who knows how they operate better than Huntress."

"I'm game if you'll have me," Kala said, smiling.

"I'm glad to," Babs told her. And then in much the same matter-of-fact tone, she continued, "I also wanted you to know I've been getting regular reports from Bruce and Dick, and Tim knows I read his notes. So I know what kind of progress you're making."

"I'm not surprised," Kala chuckled.

"I also know what kinds of mistakes you're _not_ making," she continued. "In my opinion, the thing you're most afraid of is unlikely to happen."

Kala tilted her head, curious. "What exactly do you think I'm most afraid of?" Kryptonite was the obvious one, she'd long ago dealt with her fear of water, so any sensible person would've assumed kryptonite was her deepest phobia. Not to mention, the flashbacks and the fear would've been obvious in her expression when they started this.

Babs knew otherwise, and Kala's spine went cold as the redhead spoke. "According to your therapist's notes, you worry that your shadow-self will take control and turn villain. I don't think –"

Everything skidded to a halt in her head at those words. Disbelief crowded out everything but reaction. Before Babs could get any further, Kala cut her off, standing up, outrage blooming like a nuclear explosion's mushroom cloud. "According to _my therapist's notes_?!" she snarled. "That's a goddamn HIPPA violation if ever there was one. How the _fuck_ did you get hold of those?"


	7. How Dare You Speak of Grace

**Authors' Note:** Be forewarned, this chapter includes a closer look at Barbara Gordon's backstory, and a glimpse at the grimy underbelly of Gotham. Neither are particularly pretty stories. Nothing graphic, but much implied.

…

The quippy, playful young woman she'd just sparred with now made an abrupt change, coming to her feet with rage in her eyes. At least it wasn't flame – she had that much control, not to break out the heat-vision.

Babs tilted her head and looked at her curiously, not acknowledging the implicit threat in her words or posture. "Oracle knows everything about everything. It's in the name," she replied lightly. "I gained access to Dr. Marrin's computer and read his files on you."

"How dare you!" Kala snarled, drawing herself up. "What gave you the right to go searching through my psychiatrist's files, _Barbara_?"

 _That_ was a marker that Dr. Marrin had noted, the change in her phrasing. Babs figured she was safe as long as Kala was cursing her, but the more exact and formal wording was a warning. As was her proper name instead of the nickname, but that might just have been outrage creating distance.

She decided to deflect a little, and said thoughtfully, "Perhaps I should have kept the blue kryptonite out for this part of the conversation."

Kala made an abrupt cutting-off gesture with one hand, and that chilled Babs more than sparks of red in her eyes would have done, because she'd seen video of General Zod making the exact same gesture. "I would not harm you," Kala said, anger still riding in her voice.

"Ah, so _now_ we're pitying the crip?" Babs asked.

"Fuck that," the girl scoffed bitterly. "And fuck you too. You had no right! No, I have no pity for you. Yet you do too much good. You surely think you were acting in my best interest when you _spied_ on information that should have remained private."

She didn't know she was doing it, Babs figured. But this needed to be reined in, if Kala could stop it on her own, so Babs told her flatly, "I wasn't acting in your best interest. I was acting in the interest of the rest of the Justice League. My responsibility to them is what gives me the right to hack your psychiatrist's computer. You are too great of a power for me _not_ to know what could go wrong, and how to prevent it. How to stop it, if we have to. What's in those files could mean the difference between knowing that, if the worst happens and your dark side takes over, we can send your father to stop you without violence. If we sent Batman with green kryptonite to take you down, you'd kill him in the middle of a flashback."

And just as the notes and her own observations predicted, all it took to collapse her was the mention of her father. Kala sat down abruptly, leaning forward with her head in her hands. "Jesus. I'm not _that_ big of a power."

Back to normal speech, and Babs relaxed, the hand that had been easing closer to the blue k returning to the arm of her chair. She leaned forward, too. "Flight, speed, strength, invulnerability, heat vision, hearing, x-ray vision … yes, Kala, you are."

The girl looked up at her, and now those eyes were haunted. "I don't have Dad's full measure of any of it!"

"One, that doesn't matter. Your flight alone is enough to create a shock wave when you break the sound barrier. Two, we don't actually know what your limits _are_. Kryptonians have a habit of manifesting new or greater powers in moments of intense stress. Look at how you and your father both found flight. Look at how your brother recovered his powers. If you were pushed into a life-or-death situation, Kala, or if someone you love was in dire danger, _no one_ knows just how strong or how fast you could be."

Kala bit her lip, looking away, and Babs wheeled over to her. Catching her chin, she made Kala look up at her. "Yes, you're dangerous. We all are. You think Bruce only trained in non-lethal methods because that's all he uses? You think Tim can't crack a skull with that staff? Hell, you think Dick, who loves everyone, doesn't have that same anger at injustice that you feel, isn't tempted to just drop these crooks off the side of a building? We are all dangerous people, Kala, even me. Ever since I got shot in my own front doorway, I've had a permit to carry concealed. I don't _use_ it that often, but I know if one of the big bad masks in this town knocks on my door some night, I'll have my finger on the trigger before I open it."

She blinked, and sat up, looking mortified. Babs continued, "We all made ourselves weapons. Someone has to know how to put the safety on. Yes, hacking Dr. Marrin's computer was unethical, and for what it's worth I'm sorry I upset you. But I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

"You didn't have to," Kala protested, but she was saddened now, and ashamed. "Dinah was _there_. She knew … what happened in Nevada."

"And I was there, too. Or might as well have been. Dinah was wearing one of our comms, so I heard every word," Babs told her. "Incidentally, that wasn't the voice of a broken little girl I heard. Even before I saw your face I knew you were a survivor, and one with the guts to face everything she feared and give credit where it was due – even to a villain. That's worthy of respect, Kala."

She took a deep breath, and shrugged her shoulders. "Fine. I can't be mad at you, not really. You did what you had to – we all do that, every day, don't we?"

"Yes," Babs replied, but it wasn't quite enough. She didn't like the hang-dog defeated look Kala wore, and she'd invited her here for more than sparring in the first place. What Babs wanted required trust, and she'd damaged Kala's trust in her. Now she had to repair it, and there was an easy, effective way of doing that. "You weren't really angry, you were _hurt_. Embarrassed that I'd seen your scars, so to speak. So let's make it even."

Saying that, Babs leaned back and caught her shirt at the hem, lifting it up and off easily, casually.

…

Kala was kicking herself for having let the darkness Dru-Zod created in her show, even as little as it had. All it took was the reminder of her weakness, her central flaw, and she was ready to threaten _Oracle_ , of all people. Damn, Troia was right, she had no business in the hero game at all, she really was a _huge_ liability, even Babs thought so…

Then Babs made a comment about making things even, and took off her shirt. That left her in slacks and a sports bra.

And a really obvious surgical scar, right down the center of her belly. Just above her navel was another scar, this one round and slightly puckered.

 _That's from the gunshot that put her in the wheelchair,_ Kala thought, her eyes going wide. And from whatever surgery had been required to fix the damage. She was no stranger to guns, she knew the kind of havoc a bullet could wreak, her own mother was short of a kidney these days. She winced, looking up at Babs in horror.

Who only laughed. "And you haven't even seen the exit wound! It's gotten a lot less impressive over the years, trust me. But yeah, there it is. I've seen what General Zod left in your head, now you've seen what the Joker did to my body."

"Holy fucking shit," Kala said, leaning back and propping herself on her hands. "Way to redirect the conversation, Babs."

"Based on our first conversation, if the scars wouldn't do it, the cleavage would," she replied, and it took Kala a second to realize she was actually making a joke. In the middle of this, talking about Kala's _shrink_ and how she could _kill somebody_ if she lost her mind and how Babs had been fucking _crippled_ , she was making a joke about their playful banter from before. All Kala could do was laugh, and Babs laughed with her.

"Seriously, though," the redhead said. "Let me put a few things in perspective for you, as someone who has also struggled with radical changes in her life at the hands of very bad people. Because yeah, I have the scars and the chair and _way_ too thorough a knowledge of Foley catheters, at least the first few months, but things like this always leave more scars, ones you can't see so easily."

Kala flinched at that casual inclusion of very personal information, but she figured it was Babs' way of making them even again. Which was proven when she continued, "We're lucky that Dr. Marrin isn't one of the handful of clinicians in the country who really loves the dissociate identity disorder diagnosis. A lot of them like to hypnotize patients and try to talk to their alter egos, and that seems to create _more_ fractured selves, at least in the beginning."

Shivering, not wanting to imagine her darkness invited – _summoned_ – like that, Kala shook her head. "He said it's more like PTSD."

"Yeah, PTSD, my old friend," Babs said. "Word of advice, turn off the shutter noise on your camera phone if you ever take a selfie with me. That's about the last trigger I haven't gotten myself over."

Frowning, Kala asked, "The shutter noise? It's too much like a gunshot?" That didn't make much sense to her, but then, she got antsy around saltwater fish tanks, of all things. The smell of saltwater reminded her too much of being thrown in the ocean.

Babs smiled sadly. "No. The whole community knows I got shot, but we kept a lot of the details secret, the same we kept your specifics secret. The trauma, for me, wasn't the gunshot, or realizing I couldn't feel my legs, or seeing my father dragged away."

She took a deep breath, straightening her posture, and said, "The worst part for me was when Joker cut my clothes off and started taking pictures. Between paralysis, pain, shock, and blood loss, there wasn't damn thing I could do about it. Being helpless, hearing that camera shutter snap, and then his cold hands on me – where I could feel them – while he _posed_ me for the next picture…" Babs trailed off, and now her eyes were haunted. Kala knew too well how describing memories like that could bring them sudden, vivid life.

Kala growled, low in her throat, the vicious sound startling even her. "Why is that ratfucking sonofabitch still _alive?!_ "

Babs folded her hands and looked at her seriously. "Mostly because Bruce believes if he kills one, he'll kill them all. That might be true. But it doesn't matter to me. I'm not interested in vengeance. Killing Joker won't heal my spinal cord. I just don't want him hurting anyone _else_ , and staying locked up tight in Arkham works just as well for that. Now, if he breaks out again, and comes looking for me … he'd better hope Bruce gets him before he makes it here. I don't do vengeance, but I'll do self-defense in a heartbeat."

"Good," Kala said softly.

"What I _am_ interested in is not watching anyone else go through what I did, even if the methodology is a little different. Pain and trauma are unique, but they run on the same pathways, and someone who's been there can guide you."

Kala just nodded, and Babs looked at her, looked _into_ her, it seemed. "Some part of Bruce is always going to be that little boy in the alley with his parents dead beside him. I refuse to let myself always be that woman, lying helpless on the floor at a psychopath's mercy. And I don't want you to always be the girl in the weapons locker who had to kill her ally and almost killed herself. So if you want to talk to someone who's a survivor, too, someone who believes in talking about our feelings instead of just sublimating everything under a mask and a mission, then Kala, you know where to find me."

A big rush of relief followed those words. Babs got it, as most other people didn't. Even Dr. Marrin, whose _job_ it was to help her, didn't quite understand what it was like. Kala leaned forward and took Babs' hands, squeezing them. "Thank you. You don't … well, you probably do know what that means to me."

Babs squeezed back. "I do. I got lucky. When this happened to me, I kicked most everyone out of my life except my father. I pushed Dick away, because I couldn't understand that his compassion wasn't pity, and besides I couldn't handle the thought of him seeing my scars. He'd been my lover, and I felt like a broken thing even after I got used to the chair and got this place, living on my own again. I didn't want him to see me as broken, too. You have any idea of the suicide statistics on paraplegics? They're nasty. But I found myself a reason to live, and I built myself a new identity, a new mission. I needed agents who could walk, so I recruited Dinah. She's the one who pushed me on a lot things, when I needed it. And I _hate_ being pushed. Notice there are no handles on the back of the chair."

Speaking softly, Kala told her, "Everyone says how ferociously intelligent you are. They need to amend that. You're just plain _fierce_. It's more than smarts, it's determination, too. And independence."

A little smirk curved Babs' mouth. "Thank you. Now, I think I've established my credentials sufficiently that you might consider taking a little advice?"

Kala chuckled. "Yes, o wise one. Speak on."

Babs scoffed at her. "Like I don't know where your humor comes from. I do the same thing, cracking crip jokes. I told you I read your files, and based on them, the thing you're most afraid of is this … Dark Kala, I guess, taking control."

Shaking her head, Kala murmured, "No. She's more than my dark side. Call her the Empress, if you have to call her something. That's what Dru-Zod would've made me, if I hadn't woken up in time."

Taking that in stride, Babs continued, "You fear the Empress taking control. You need to understand two things, Kala. One, especially according to Dr. Marrin's notes, the Empress isn't an alternate personality. She's _you_ , in a slightly altered state. She's the part of you that's determined to never, ever be helpless in the hands of a madman again. Which makes her a whole hell of a lot like _me_. The only difference is you're a more immediate kind of dangerous than I am. But we can mitigate that."

"Two, even your Empress isn't as terrifying as you think. Bruce hasn't used the blue k on you because he knows kryptonite is one of your triggers. I did, and I told you about hacking those files, to provoke a reaction. And I'm still sitting here, aren't I?"

Kala shivered again. "All of you Bats are so damned _methodical_. Yeah, you pissed me off enough to wake that up, but you did it right after you kicked my ass. Which means you're too damned smart for _my_ own good."

"Sparring made me a credible threat, in your eyes," Babs said. "Which should've increased your aggression, but you didn't come at me. And I saw a lot more anger in you afterward, when I told you what Joker did. At your worst, Kala, you're _still_ more dangerous trying to protect someone else, than you are in defense of yourself."

She could only blink, staring up at Babs. After a long moment, Kala asked quietly, "You ever thought of becoming a therapist yourself? 'Cause you're pretty good at the whole heavy-insight thing."

Babs smirked again. "Harley Quinn works for me now and then. You want a guided tour of the human psyche, she's damn good at it. Word of warning, though, it's not exactly a pleasure trip."

"I already know that," Kala chuckled, feeling relieved. Talking about this, the darkest and most vicious fragment of herself, would never bring anything less than sickening shame. But at least there was someone she _could_ talk to, someone whom she'd didn't need to protect from the entire family's secret identity the way she did with Dr. Marrin.

Babs caught her chin again, this time playfully. "It's not all grim and dark and awful, either. There's still reason to hope. You can do a lot of good in this world, and you _will_. Not just saving lives and protecting people, important as that is. You're likable and friendly and funny, and God knows we need a big dose of that in this town."

Kala managed a laugh, and Babs smiled proudly at her, and that was the moment when Dinah came strolling into the room, in uniform. "Hope you have a spare comm, love, mine's in the bottom of the bay in two pieces, thanks to one of the Mink's boys…"

She trailed off, looking at Babs with her shirt off and Kala chuckling at her feet, and the blonde tipped her head sideways. "Damn, kiddo, you've only been here two weeks and you're already getting the striptease? You have any idea how long it took _me_ to get lucky?"

For half a second Kala looked horrified, and opened her mouth to protest that it wasn't at all what it looked like, but Babs rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. "Quit it, Songbird, you'll scare her off when I just convinced her to come patrol with us."

"Hey, the topless recruitment pitch would've worked on me, too," Dinah replied, kissing Babs' hair and offering Kala a hand up. "Don't look so terrified, K, I knew she planned to get you sparring and pick your brain. So you're really gonna fly with us?"

Babs tugged her shirt back over her head, muttering about _too_ much humor, as Kala replied, "As soon as you'll let me. I want to _do_ something, but the boys are keeping me on the bench."

"They've got the scarier shit this summer," Dinah replied. "And if they have any sense, they want to keep you away from anything you'll feel the need to punch into orbit."

"Yes, we talked about that," Babs cut in. "I've got to update your file, Kala."

"And hook me up with a spare comm?" Dinah asked.

"I heard you the first time. That's the third one you've broken, you know," Babs remarked, wheeling away.

"In five years," Dinah called after her, then turned to Kala. "So we're all good? She told you where she gets her info?"

"Hacking my shrink's computer? Yeah," Kala said, and forced herself not to bristle.

Dinah clasped her shoulder. "Blame the big Bat. They're all like that. Nosy as hell, and good at justifying it. I've never caught any of them using it for personal gain or personal amusement, though. They're all obnoxiously ethical, her more than most. Now, if _I_ had cameras in Dick Grayson's apartment, I'd put at least two in the shower stall."

Kala whooped laughter, and Dinah joined her.

…

Deep in the dark heart of Crown Point, a man called Big Tommy headed for the abandoned building he called 'home' this month. He shared it with eleven boys, ranging in age from squeaky-voiced thirteen-year-old Carl, to lanky seventeen-year-old Julio. All of them were homeless, either kicked out or run away or just fallen through the cracks in the system. None of them trusted grownups, but they let Big Tommy share their flop for three reasons, despite the fact that he was definitely north of twenty.

One, he was _big_ , tall and broad through the shoulders. Big enough to give pause to any of the thugs who might be thinking about rounding them up and adding them to their 'talent pool'. And pause was all they needed, the pack of them had long ago learned to rabbit at the first _hint_ of a threat.

Two, he was slow. He moved slow, he talked slow, and he thought slow; behind his back they grinned sadly at each other and twirled their fingers near their ears. Big Tommy couldn't even write his own name, and they all felt like they were taking pity on him, taking care of him. After all, he was too big to get away with some of the hustles they pulled, and too slow for the gangs to want him as an enforcer, so he didn't have a ready source of income.

Three, he was old enough to buy booze. They all knew how to _find_ food, but booze you had to buy, and it was a whole lot easier to pool their earnings and send Big Tommy to the liquor store for a fifth of whatever was on sale. He had enough beard scruff, and his voice was deep enough, that he rarely had to bother with ID.

For however much a pack of boys who relied only on themselves for survival _could_ like someone, they liked Big Tommy. He was pretty much their mascot.

The dozen of them mostly got along, trading rumors and gossip as they settled in. The building's first two floors had just enough room for each of them to spread out whatever blankets they'd hoarded. In winter, they'd huddle together against the cold, but in summer they all found the spots where a little breath of breeze moved between broken windows. That meant most of them slept in the hallways.

All except little Carl, who claimed to be chilly all the time anyway, and who slept in one of the bedrooms. He always wore long shirts and baggy pants, never shorts like the rest. None of them questioned Carl's quirks – he didn't steal, and he shared whatever he found. Those were the rules Julio had set, being the oldest (except for Big Tommy, but he was soft so he didn't count). There was only one more rule, and that was no drugs in the flop. Julio didn't want any junkies breaking in and cutting anybody's throat for a fix. He didn't care what they smoked or snorted or shot up, as long as they didn't bring it home.

The second-oldest kid, a short sarcastic sixteen-year-old named Wiley, always ragged Julio on it, but the rest backed up their leader and ignored Wiley's bitching. Wiley liked to talk tough, and he had pushed Big Tommy around when the man first showed up, but he never _quite_ pissed Julio off enough to make the older boy throw him out.

It was still halfway early that night when Big Tommy came home, with three loaves of bread and a whole ham he'd plucked out of a dumpster. "Didncha find no mustard?" Wiley snarled, and Big Tommy hung his head while the rest just rolled their eyes. Julio wasn't back yet, so no one told Wiley off, they just made their sandwiches and licked their fingers clean.

Carl was the first to leave, going to huddle in the back, and none of them noticed Wiley disappearing next. Not until they heard a high, frightened scream, and Carl came running up the hall.

Or trying to. Wiley had hold of his sleeve, and was laughing his big stupid donkey laugh, trying to yank the shirt off. The rest of the boys hollered at him to quit it, and he tripped Carl instead. The smallest boy landed on his face with a crunch, and blood ran from his nose. "Lookit the baby cry!" Wiley laughed, and reached down, yanking the long-sleeved shirt up his back and over his head, catching dirty-blonde hair on the way.

Why he wanted Carl's shirt, no one could've guessed. They were all too distracted by the fact that Carl was wearing a tank top underneath, and without the baggy clothes it was suddenly obvious that Carl was more likely Carol. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared wide-eyed at Wiley, who just grinned.

"Well looky here, we got us a girl," he laughed, tossing the shirt aside. "C'mere, little girl, I got a use for you."

"Knock it off, Wiley, you perv," one of the other boys said, but his voice was frightened.

"Shut it, pipsqueak, or I won't let you have a turn," Wiley snapped back. And turned to Carol, who skittered back a few steps, her eyes wild.

All of a sudden, Big Tommy was just _there_ , one large hand encircling Wiley's whole upper arm. "Oh, ya wanna fuck?" he said softly, his blue eyes burning. "Didn't know ya wanted to _fuck_ , Wiley. You don't need to go messing with Carl. I'll fuck ya good and proper. You won't walk right for three days, but hey, them's breaks."

"Get off me, faggot," Wiley snarled, and tried to break his grip.

Big Tommy lifted him up and shook him, setting him back down with a tooth-rattling thump. "Not so nice, is it?" he asked, leaning close, looming over the boy, and Wiley finally had the sense to be afraid. "No messing around. You wanna fuck, you find someone wants t' fuck ya. But you ain't gonna hurt Carl. Got it?"

"It's _Carol,_ you big dumb lunk," Wiley managed to say. "That's a girl. Cain'tcha see the little titties?"

"He said call him Carl, call him _him_ , that's what we do," Big Tommy said patiently. "He wants to be Carol, that's fine too. But ain't nobody hurtin' our own. Don't like it, there's the door. An' don't come back."

Wiley jerked away, terror bright in his eyes, and Big Tommy let him go. He rubbed his arm theatrically. "You're too stupid to know better," he muttered.

"Not stupid as you," Big Tommy replied, then walked deliberately past him, picked up the shirt, dusted it off, and brought it back to the youngest, still shivering in the corner. "Here, this's yours. No stealin'."

"Thanks," she whispered, and that was the end of it.

Wiley slunk out, Julio came back, and once the rest had told the tale Julio decided Wiley was no longer welcome. Carl told them her real name was Caroline, but she wanted them to call her Carl still. "It's too dangerous for a girl," she said, looking into each of their faces with haunted eyes. Big Tommy said nothing, busily eating potatoes right out of a dented can, but Julio clapped him on the back and called him a good man.

Late that night, when they were all trying to settle down to sleep, Caroline slipped into the room Big Tommy had claimed and laid her blanket down next to him. He didn't move, his back turned toward her, not even when her small cold hand slipped around his waist.

"I know you're awake," she whispered.

"Tryin' t' sleep," he mumbled.

But when that hand slid down to his belt, he caught it, gently. "You ain't gotta do that," Big Tommy told her. "You want 'em to think we are, so's they'll leave you alone, fine. Sleep in here. But you ain't gotta do that for me."

"Why not?" she asked, her voice sounding hurt and confused. "You don't want to?"

He was silent for a long moment, and then he rolled over. His arm went over her shoulder and drew her closer, so he could speak into her ear. "I like you. You're nice, you're smart, you know how to make 'em all laugh when they're gettin' bitchy 'cause we ain't et nothin' in three days. You're better'n this."

She was quiet, too, her heart beating like a bird's against his broad chest. Finally she whispered back, "This is all there is."

"Nah, it ain't," he told her. "You hold on for someone who'll be good t' you. For something better than all this. It's out there. You'll find it."

Another long pause before she said, "You ain't really dumb, are you?"

His laugh shook them both, though he kept it quiet. "Dumb enough to be here eatin' expired ham and puttin' up with Wiley's crap this long."

She laughed too, and curled up in a little ball. After a while, the man called Big Tommy rolled over, and let himself slide into a half-doze that was as close as he could get to sleep while he was undercover.

Maybe, now that he'd proven his trustworthiness tonight, they might _finally_ start telling him what they knew about the kids and hookers going missing throughout the East End. Caroline certainly would – and hell, he'd had ideas for getting all of them off the street, or at least somewhere safer than this, but now he had to worry about one of them being a girl. A girl who already thought her most valuable asset was between her legs, dammit. The stakes for her were even higher than the rest; Gotham was especially cruel to pretty little vulnerable things like her.

Jason Todd sighed, listened to the pack of homeless kids settling down in the house around him, and promised himself he'd find out who was behind the disappearances before any of them got taken.


	8. More than Meets the Odds

Helping dry the dishes after dinner the next night, Kala caught sight of the state of her nails and swore under her breath. _Real life intrudes once again._ _Shit, I gotta get that fixed before Friday and manage not to wreck them until after then,_ she groused to herself, then winced. Just managing to get to a shop was going to be hectic. Today was Wednesday, so she only had a day and a half until her Friday appointment. They'd been so busy since she'd gotten the call, she'd nearly forgotten what Jenna had told her the other day. In the ordinary scheme of things, she'd have been excited to have this coming up; now, she was finding herself annoyed by the intrusion, much to her own surprise. That was something she was going to have to put a rein on; both were incredibly important, but music was her real-life and the world she had to go back to. The real life that was going to finally make something of her.

Try as she had to get out of band business obligations for the vast majority of the summer, there was still some promotion that Kala as half of the band's lead singing talent simply _had_ to do. The boys were taking over as much as they could, Sebast doing all of the television interviews, with help from Morgan here and there, while she'd been taking everything that could be handled over the phone or email. The word had gone out in the industry that she was doing charity work with a well-known family friend until the end of July; charity work that might just end up in the public eye. That meant she was missed, the absence being brought up from time to time, but the possibly of seeing her pop up unexpectedly in famous company had settled most of the grousing.

Besides, Kala had made sure all of her sit-downs had been in the can at the beginning of last month. But now another wrinkle had reared its head: Jenna, KLK's agent, had informed her that GQ was requesting more than the one photo to run with the article. They also wanted her for the cover and contents page. Normally, she'd be over the moon and would have run screaming to tell Sebast. This was big; this meant that this wasn't a fluke. If they wanted her for this much coverage, their star really was rising. It was a huge deal for KLK, but for Kala herself it meant more interruptions. This was going to be more than just a brief article, now. Which meant telling Bruce what was going on.

And it being in a generally men's magazine meant the boys knowing, as well. Remembering the lead photo they had shot, tasteful but a little sultry, had her groaning. There was no way she was backing out, but they were definitely going to give her hell. She'd already been a little worried about Dad and Jase; this was going to be a nightmare. _Great, just peachy._ _Of all the timing._

Taking a deep breath, Kala braced herself as she handed the dry plate to Dick and cleared her throat. At least they were all still in the kitchen, Bruce at the table as she, Dick, and Tim handled the dishes. "Umm, Uncle Bruce, I'm gonna be late to practice day after tomorrow. Something came up for the label that I couldn't get out of, but I shouldn't be back any later than two. With any luck, I'll be in and out before you guys get too into training."

Bruce just raised an eyebrow from his spot at the table, where he was finishing his coffee and working intently on his Blackberry. "Press, I take it?"

Kala nodded, hoping he wouldn't dig for more details. As much as she loved her job, neither Dick nor Tim had shied from teasing her over it. Even now, she could see Tim hiding a grin and tossed him an evil glare. "Yes, sir."

"Interview or photo shoot?" he asked, not lifting his gaze from his work.

Dammit. She should have known he was going to be difficult about this. And if there was one thing she didn't want to explain in front of the boys, it was this. It would be hard enough when the issue came out. A swallow, and Kala said in a rush, "Just a photo shoot." To her right, she heard Dick snickering and stealthily elbowed him in the side.

At that, Bruce finally looked up, his gaze appraising. "Hmm. I suppose you don't have any wounds or bruises to hide, so that's not a problem."

That stopped Kala in surprise, that not having never even occurred to her. But then, when you considered the fiction they all lived around, it must've been standard practice around here to do a wound check before agreeing to meet with the media for any reason. Good thing to remember for the future. "Oh, no," she started. "No, I'm not low enough for them to stay yet. Even the hip-strike from the other night has faded." She paused then, watching her uncle's expression. "The shoot isn't gonna be a problem, is it, Uncle Bruce? We said that I might have a couple of last-minute things to do in the three months I'm here."

A noncommittal sound, and Bruce looked back down to his Blackberry. "You'll miss breakfast and an hour of training. This might be a good time to learn how to get out of an appointment on short notice."

 _Shit. I knew it. I just knew it. Here we go again._ "I wanted to reschedule, I did. But they just told me they were giving me the cover and the article is going to print at the end of the week for next month's release; I can't really beg off. Especially not when I've been making the boys do almost all of the live promotion. There's no way I can skip out on it and it not cause problems; not this close to the tour. I'm sorry, Uncle Bruce." Kala could just feel the disapproval radiating, but she had to stand her ground on this one. This wasn't the same situation as his where the media was concerned. His was an inherited celebrity, something he had to do very little to maintain. Bruce Wayne's presence in the media didn't guarantee his livelihood; hers did.

Nevertheless, she knew that had agreed to come here to Gotham to train herself to understand the hero life, even though she was on the verge of a break-neck tour. It had been Kala who had asked if Bruce would allow her to, not the other way around. If this is what the future held, life in two worlds, she needed learn how to prioritize, how to make the real world and the hero world fit together. There was no other choice; she had to make this work or let it go. "That said, I'll talk to their coordinator and see if I can get the time for the shoot moved back to the afternoon, when we normally do our real-life stuff. This should be the only major interruption this summer, I promise. Anything else should be able to be done digitally."

Dick chose that moment to save her. "Even if you can't reschedule, it's just one day. And you and I are going to have to miss at least one day's training so we can do that soup kitchen photo op."

Bruce just shrugged, and Dick winked at Kala. "It's not like _you_ can sleep through your business obligations, Kala."

"I have a certain image to maintain," Bruce said, finally looking up at them with a slight smile. "Feckless playboy with more money than sense. If I _appear_ to be asleep in board meetings, they won't pay any attention to what they say around me."

"Same reason I'm always on my phone in those meetings," Tim added. "Do your photo shoot, Kala. Besides, you're getting extra training in with Babs now, right?"

And she still didn't know how her host was going to take that. To Kala's honest surprise, Bruce nodded. "She did tell me she intends to take you out on patrol with the Birds. Honestly, I'd expected you to ask me why you weren't on patrol with us by now."

And didn't that just figure. Kala turned away from the sink and crossed her arms, staring at him with defiant disbelief. " _Someone_ told me I need to learn to listen to authority and work as part of a team. Pestering my boss to let me out to play before he thinks I'm ready isn't how I'd go about that."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Remember that I know your parents. Patient obedience isn't your natural state."

"Neither is being obtuse," Kala said archly, raising an eyebrow right back at him.

Bruce just grinned. "That's the Kala I've been warned about," he said. "Regardless, I'm more comfortable letting you patrol with Babs' team than what we're working on just now. You're making excellent progress, and I think we'll have you in the field within a week or two."

"That fast?" Dick said, turning to him worriedly.

"She's not green, she just needs polish," Bruce said. And in the next breath, "You can't protect them all, Dick."

"Someone's got to at least try," Dick replied.

Alfred returned at that precise moment, bearing a tray. "If dinner is cleared away, lady and gentlemen, then I thought perhaps a dessert course would be in order. Miss Kala, do you enjoy viennetta ice cream?"

Just the sound of Alfred's voice made the worst of Kala's annoyance disappear. If Alfred Pennyworth had a superpower, she supposed that it was the ability to gain the trust and affection of most anyone he met. He'd most certainly gained hers in a big way. "I love it," she said, her frown fading as she gave him a sunny grin, "but I haven't seen it in stores since I was a little kid. Where did you find it?"

"I had it flown in from Rome," Alfred replied. "One of Master Bruce's childhood favorites, now increasingly difficult to procure in the States. Still worth the trouble to import, if I do say so myself."

"And I'll agree with that," Dick said, looking to Alfred with interest.

Kala rolled her eyes; trust the boys to agree with anything involving _food_.

…

Going on patrol with the Birds that night was certainly different. Kala started out by signing in to her comm, and Babs sent her to an address that turned out to be a coffee shop. Well, the roof sixteen floors above one, anyway. Dinah was there, sipping a tall cup of iced coffee while watching the street below. "Hey there," she said as Kala walked up. "Have a seat. Have you met Huntress yet?"

"No, not yet," Kala said with a shake of her head, taking her place on the parapet with a little more care than usual. She still had flight despite the sunlight restriction, but there was no sense in risking it. Especially when her nerves were jangling with excitement and anxiety. Now that she was finally being given the chance to do this, Kala found herself trying to settle. "I haven't heard much about her, either."

Dinah nodded. "I'll let her decide how much of the backstory to tell you – the same way I'm letting you decide what to tell her of your own history. What you need to know about Huntress is she got into this to avenge her family. She lost pretty much everyone when she was just a kid. Along the way she crossed paths with the Bat, who recruited her and gave her the Batgirl title."

Giving Kala a serious look, she continued, "Of course, the original Batgirl was none too pleased about that. Batman fired Huntress, who basically told him to get bent, and she ended up being recruited by Oracle. O wasn't happy about the Batgirl thing, but she respects talent. Now Huntress and I are pretty much O's full time crew, though we've had other help along the way. Huntress is someone I like, and more importantly, someone I trust."

"Gotcha," Kala said, nodding. Yeah, that sounded like serious back-story. "Is she a meta?"

Dinah shook her head. "Pure guts and training. She's going to meet up with us here, then the three of us will go out for a quick patrol. Right now Huntress is doing some undercover work, so if all goes well, later on you and I will be her backup while she's working that angle."

As Kala nodded again, and before she could ask any more questions, she caught movement from the corner of her eye and turned to follow it. Someone had just dropped to their roof from the next building over, a four story fall, but it had been done lightly and almost silently. Kala perked up, watching the approach of a tall woman in black and purple. She had a long, confident stride, and as she got closer Kala noticed the long dark hair – sensibly pulled back – and olive skin. Beautiful, too, that classic old-world beauty that made her think of Renaissance paintings. "Jeez, is _every_ cape in this town a total bombshell?" she asked Dinah lightly.

Dinah laughed. "You know you're on that list too, kiddo. We _are_ a pretty bunch – and that goes for the boys, too. Right, Hel?"

"It is one of their redeeming qualities," Huntress said, as Kala and Dinah both rose. "Blur, I presume? Or do you prefer _the_ Blur?"

Real names in the field just weren't a thing, but Kala figured everyone in Gotham already knew who she was, so she stuck her hand out and said, "I prefer Kala, but I'll answer to Blur. Or 'hey you'. Nice to meet you, Huntress."

"Helena," the taller woman said, shaking her hand with a small smile. "Or Hel, as Dinah so loves to abbreviate."

"C'mon, as often as both the big bats in this town say 'ah, hell' where you're concerned, it's just the natural nickname," Dinah teased. "Then again they both _need_ someone to give them hell on occasion."

Kala didn't have her comm unit in, but Dinah and Helena both did, and her hearing picked up Oracle's digitized voice coming from their earpieces. "I heard that."

"You're not denying it," Dinah chuckled.

Meanwhile Helena was sizing up Kala with the same intent, professional look she'd gotten from every trained martial artist she'd met so far. That frank appraisal was something she was quickly getting used to, in Gotham. "So you're here to train? And you're one of the Supers?"

Kala shrugged. "Yes and yes. I finally listened to everyone telling me it's long past time I got with the program. So here I am. You've probably met my brother, Jason."

"They're night and day, and I don't just mean wardrobe," Dinah put in. "Speaking of which, K, I know your usual uniform isn't as high-tech as ours. Are you comfortable, and can you run roofs in it?"

Her usual uniform was corset top, close-fitting pants, and trench coat, the last of which was rather heavier than she liked. But Kala just shrugged. "C'mon, let's be honest: it's concert clothes. I can fight in it as well as I can dance in it. Then again Dopey runs around in jeans and a jacket with the S-shield on the front. Even some of the invulnerability means we don't really need armor so much. And no, I haven't run the roofs yet, but I can fly in this, so I'm guessing it works."

Dinah just nodded, but Helena looked at her curiously. "Dopey? Your brother?"

Smiling sheepishly, Kala said, "Sorry, yeah, long-standing family nickname. I call him Dopey, he calls me Elvira. The dark colors thing has always been my aesthetic and I love the music; it's just not for everyone. And Jason's not actually stupid, except when it comes to relationships. And sometimes clothes. He's seen some fashion disasters, believe you me." She knew she shouldn't be mocking him this much, but he deserved a little embarrassment out there, Mr. Perfect Leader.

A dark eyebrow arched at that, and Dinah intervened before Helena could ask another question. "We can catch up on backstories and promote your next album _after_ patrol, girls. Unless you _don't_ want to run around Old Gotham beating the crap out of bad guys?"

And just like that, the nerves returned and her blood was up. _I'm going to do this. I'm_ _ **actually**_ _going to do this_. Kala had slipped her comm in by then, and heard Babs reply, "I personally would prefer that the three of you get to work."

"You always would," Helena muttered. "Let's go, then." She took a running start and jumped the ten-foot gap between their building and the next.

With a glance at Dinah, who was grinning, Kala took a quick deep breath and followed. "Let's find some trouble to get in," she chuckled. It took her just a touch of her powers – a smidge of strength and flight together – to ensure that she stuck the landing. She was going to try and play by Bruce's rules as much as possible, not using her powers, since the entire point was to train the way people without those powers did. And she hadn't missed the admiration in Dinah's voice when she spoke of Helena being just determination and training.

In her ear – in all of their ears – Babs said quietly, "We've got a potential robbery in progress three blocks from the old cathedral. Head west, I'll guide you."

Kala grinned. The hunt was on.

…

Big Tommy was a common enough sight around the Bowery that no one paid any particular attention to him anymore. He mooched along, following Julio and Carl as they headed back to their flophouse.

They were finally talking about the missing people. Julio clearly _didn't_ want to talk about it, but Carl did, and Carl knew that Big Tommy was curious. So the whole conversation was for his benefit, which made it slightly suspect, but it was a damn sight better than the information he'd gleaned so far. Wasn't like he could check property records or the friggin' census to find out who was missing, down here.

"We don't go anywhere alone," Julio said finally. "Not after Maria had that close call. If Saul hadn't come along when he did, those guys would've picked her up."

"What guys?" Carl asked, looking up at him worriedly.

"Four guys in a big gray panel van," Julio replied. "Wide boys, somebody's goons. You see anything like that, you get out of sight and come find me. I don't plan on losing our best lock-picker." He rumpled Carl's hair at that, and the younger kid dodged away complaining.

On the surface, Big Tommy was being as Big Tommy as possible, his gaze unfixed and his expression lax. Inside, where Jason Todd lived, he was growling in frustration. Someone's thugs snatching people was worse than a serial killer or two. It meant someone was using the missing ones for something, and when the people snatched were runaway kids and sex workers, that was bad news. Jay could think of two or three reasons to target that demographic, besides the fact that they were the most vulnerable targets and the least likely to be missed.

Trafficking, maybe, and if it was that, Babs and Bruce could both kiss his ass, there'd be bodies on the floor by the time this was over. Drug trafficking was hellish enough, it ruined so many lives, but human trafficking was some eighteenth century shit. Selling _people_ should've died out a long damn time ago. And Jay would do his best to make sure that the people keeping that particular vile industry alive would go extinct as soon as he could identify them.

But it might be something else. Scarecrow had been quiet for a while, he might be amassing 'test subjects' for a new batch of fear toxin. The big gangs might be recruited – but no, that only explained the kids. Usually they wanted boys to raise up loyal to their own leaders. Jay had sometimes thought of organizing the women in this town, the sex workers as well as the ones trying to scrape by legally, and given the right motivation they'd be scarier than Amazons. If every hooker in Gotham rose up and started beating the crap out of the pimps, if every harried single mom trying to raise kids in this cesspool rose up and started whaling on the dealers … ah, it was just a dream. Few of the bad guys in Gotham thought the same, though, treating women as beneath notice, unless they distinguished themselves somehow. Nobody messed with Harley Quinn twice, or Poison Ivy, or Catwoman.

It was weird, too, that the male sex workers were also going missing, and not just the ones that could pass for women. Usually a serial killer targeted one or the other, pretty boys or easy girls. Taking both, along with homeless runaway kids, meant it was something bigger than that. The only thing the victims had in common was their youth – the older homeless population had been left alone.

From what he'd heard on the street and what Carl had told them in whispered midnight conversations, there were thirty-some people who'd just vanished this summer. Which sounded to Jay like some kind of experiment. If it was Scarecrow, he might pass it off to the Bats, via Babs. But if Scarecrow was working on something of that scale, Babs should've known about it.

Would she tell _him_ , though? She'd kept him informed of the Birds' organized crime activities, and of the Bats' investigation into the new drug ring. Which was annoying as fuck, Jay wanted that one, but he'd taught Gotham's dealers a hard lesson that still echoed years later – very few of them dared to deal to children, even now. The missing kids needed him more, and he could go undercover in a way that Dick and Tim couldn't.

Fuck, silver spoon Timmy wouldn't last two days on the street. These kids would _smell_ the old money on him, and either roll him for whatever backup cash he was carrying, or just laugh him out of the neighborhood. Timothy Drake had never learned the fine art of dumpster-diving for dinner, and never would.

Jay was _from_ the street. Putting on Big Tommy's cover was like slipping into an old pair of shoes. It didn't quite fit anymore, he had to remind himself to slouch and shamble, too graceful now from so much martial arts training. Too observant, too, he had to hide the sharpness of his gaze. His cover's vagueness helped there, letting him float in a zone where he saw everything but focused on almost nothing.

Such as right this moment, where he nearly walked into Julio. "Tommy, man, you drunk already?" the young boy laughed.

Jay furrowed his brow and hung his head. "Nope. Got no money." And that was true, too, he was living this cover, no emergency funds sewn into the lining of his threadbare jacket.

He _did_ have some surprises, a set of lock picks and a couple knives carefully hidden away. Even a small stun gun carefully worked into the side of one boot. If he needed to skip out fast, Jay figured he could get his hands on guns and money pretty quickly. He knew where the dealers were, after all, and most of _them_ thought their guns protected him from any assailant. When it came time to blow this cover, he'd be happy to disabuse them of the notion.

Julio clapped his shoulder. Just his luck, the pack of kids he'd fallen in with were actually decent people. The lanky boy said, "Well, I got enough for a couple bottles. Here, Tommy, swing by the liquor store, wouldja? Just none of that Tequila Rose crap. Made me sick as a dog."

He nodded, letting himself smile foolishly. "Sure, man," he replied, taking the cash and sticking it in the inside jacket pocket. "Just whiskey."

"Cheap and strong," Julio said, smirking. "Like us. Come on, Carl, they'll card him if they see him with us."

"Make sure you don't get into any gray vans," Carl said, sounding worried. She – when they were alone, she preferred Caroline – knew he wasn't as dumb as he tried to appear, but Jay hadn't confirmed or denied anything. Letting her know what he was curious about was enough of a risk; the more she knew, the more danger she'd be in.

"Gray vans?" he asked, looking at Julio with false confusion.

"That's who's been taking kids off the street," the boy clarified. "Maria said it was a gray van with four guys, and Brown's Painters on the side. But I heard someone else say a gray van with Susan's Flowers on the side was cruising over by Crime Alley. So don't trust any gray van, okay?"

"Got it," he nodded, while noting those leads. Jay doubted there were two teams, but it was easy to change the signs on old panel vans. Just get some magnetic ones – and they could even be legit signs, stolen somewhere uptown.

He shambled off to buy the liquor, already planning how and when to contact Babs for a little more intel on both those companies. If they were legit, the sign thefts would've been reported. And if they weren't, she could start searching for them with her vast network of cameras.

Jay had a bolt-hole with a computer not that far from the flophouse. A little too close to Oracle's headquarters, for his taste, but he used it sparingly. As soon as he dropped off the liquor, he'd head across the river and call in.

…

Helena fired her crossbow at the getaway car, hitting the front tire with pinpoint accuracy. It started to shimmy back and forth, the driver trying to keep it on the road long enough to escape them.

All three of them were still on the rooftops, lower here in the riverfront shopping district where they'd just busted this particularly brazen batch of jewel thieves. It was still enough of a drop that Helena readied her grapnel.

Dinah glanced over at Kala, and she just grinned. "Got it," she said, and leaped in Helena's wake. As Huntress swung down and across the path of the car, she scattered caltrops in front of its wheels. The driver swerved, blowing out another tire, and screeched around a corner.

He had almost no control, riding on two rims, and _shit_ there was a guy walking up the sidewalk. For a moment, Kala's heart stopped, _dammit, he's gonna be road-pizza_ , before she put on a burst of speed, not even bothering to touch the ground for the illusion of running. She was the _Blur_ , most people never guessed she could fly even when she did it right in front of them.

The guy was dodging the oncoming car, throwing himself back into the shelter of the doorway with damn good reflexes for someone who looked homeless and smelled drunk. Kala grabbed him anyway, spun him further out of range, setting him down safely behind the car that was still bouncing and jangling at high speed. "Not such a good night for a stroll, hon," she told him hurriedly, before turning back to the car.

With the civilian out of the way, she flung a couple of shuriken borrowed from Tim at the back tires. That slowed it still more, and Helena landed on the roof, kicking in the windshield. Dinah was there too, ripping open the driver's side door, but as Kala hustled to the passenger side she saw Dinah hesitate, looking at the civilian. That made her reflect, too.

The guy had tensed when she grabbed him, as drunks never did – they didn't have the reaction time. Kala looked, wondering if he was an accomplice, but the guy had disappeared. And Dinah was snapping at the thieves to get out _right now_ if they wanted to end the night in jail instead of the hospital, so she got back to business.

In the front passenger seat was the man who'd actually broken into the shop, and he was trying to bail out and away from the car, leaving his three friends to deal with Huntress and Black Canary. Unfortunately, that meant he got Blur, one quick punch to the solar plexus to drop him, and then his wrists and ankles zip-tied before he even hit the ground. The driver got Huntress' fist in his face and her boot to his gut, even as the two guys in the back surrendered, letting Canary and then Blur drag them out.

Looking at four thieves bagged and tagged for the cops, with the loot right there in the trunk, Kala let out the breath she'd been holding. Nice, clean, easy – her first real patrol in Gotham and nobody had gotten hurt. Maybe she _could_ actually do this.

"What did you see?" Helena asked Dinah.

By way of answering, the blonde touched her comm. "O, is Hood working our side of town? Could've sworn I just saw him in civvies."


	9. Don't Trip Off the Glitz

After that fun little encounter with the Birds of Prey – heh, speaking of women no one would cross twice – Jay's trip to his safe house became more urgent. Not only did he want to hit Babs up for details on his current case, he had questions to ask about the stranger who'd just called him 'hon' while tossing him around with more speed and strength than a girl her size should've had.

First, the run-of-the-mill research. It was always better to know _something_ before asking questions of the woman who knew _everything_. Jay followed the news in Gotham, both the mainstream Gotham Gazette and the official blogs, as well as a couple of half-crazy bloggers who were more often right than wrong. One of those ran a TMZ-wannabe called Capespotting.

Whoever ran Capespotting was _obsessed_ with Batman. Had every single official appearance written up, had notes on uniform changes, hell, even had a pretty accurate piece comparing the performance and style of the various Robins over the years. Dickie-Bird was first and best, as always, but it was still gratifying to see his own strength and courage written up so admiringly.

When Jay first started working with Oracle, he'd asked her if she knew who ran Capespotting. Her response had been typical Babs. "It's not one person, it's three, and one of them works for Cobblepot. The other two are independent civilians with an obsession. I think Penguin's man infiltrated them somehow early on."

"Okay, and _why_ are you letting them report on everything we do?" he'd grumbled, scrolling through the article on himself, titled _Red Hood: Bad Guy Gone Good?_

"There's nothing there that an astute observer couldn't get from the mainstream news, a police scanner, and a few phone calls," she'd said dismissively. "Besides, since I know who they are, and their information is trusted by many of our rogues, if necessary I can use them to spread misinformation."

He had scoffed, and called her too smart for her own good, but he'd followed Capespotting regularly after that. At least, the Gotham section; they also reported on Metropolis, Star City, all the major caped locales. It was an easy way to keep tabs on Dickie-Bird and Timmy and Daddy Bats, after all.

As Jay expected, he was now seeing a new face on the site. Or more correctly, a new name – the Blur rarely let herself be photographed. Witnesses just reported a fast-moving, person-sized blur of speed that arrived, and left the bad guys bagged and tagged, in a few seconds. Enough people had caught glimpses to know she was a girl, she dressed in all black, and she wore a plain black domino. The only other thing the public had on her was her supposed romance with Superboy, which Capespotting had a whole article on.

Jay knew better. He had gone with Kyle and Donna on the search for Ray Palmer, a search that didn't stop at crossing countries and oceans. No, it turned out there were whole other _worlds_ out there, places just like this one except for one or two critical details out of sync. And under exactly the right circumstances, someone could cross into one of those other realms. The three of them had seen wonders, and horrors, and a whole lot of familiar places that were just different enough to make Jay's brain itch.

He also remembered Donna throwing a hissy fit that most other worlds had a Supergirl, 'while we just have the Blur'. That was enough to tell him that their Blur was some kind of Kryptonian, though not Big Blue's cousin Kara. Near as he knew, their Big Blue didn't _have_ a cousin. And Jay was smart enough to look up information on Clark Kent next, whom he'd known was Superman since his Robin days, and realize that Clark had two kids with Lois Lane. Twins, boy and girl; the boy was a good match for Superboy. He knew all the same tricks of hairstyle and posture and expression that kept people from realizing Clark Kent was actually Superman. Heh, some clone, Superboy was Superman's son.

The girl was Kala, and that was only one letter off the Supergirl he and Donna and Kyle had met while dimension-hopping. She was wearing nearly all black in every photo he could find of her, and photos were damn easy to find, because she was a fucking _rock singer_. Jesus fuck, was there a _worse_ job for an undercover hero?

Eh, maybe it wasn't so bad. Her fans usually saw her in so much makeup that they might not recognize her on the street, much less zipping past at the speed of sound.

And the whole Superboy/Blur thing – there was _fanfic_ about them linked on Capespotting, and Jay stayed away from it. He'd once clicked one of those links about himself, back when he'd first found the site, before backing out and blocking it from his mind – it was less action adventure and more porn parody. But the whole supposed relationship, that made sense, too. If you didn't want people to wonder about Superman's ex's two kids maybe being two heroes, let the world think those two heroes were a couple instead of siblings. Pretty slick. Pretty sneaky, for a Super, but then Babs spoke of Lois Lane with respect, and Babs was the second sneakiest person Jay knew.

Babs was also the best-informed person he knew, and when he saw the first headline that came up under Kala Lane-Kent's name, he had enough data to call her up. "What the fuck is Blur doing in my city?" he snapped. "More importantly, what's she doing in the Roost with the bullshit 'charity work' story that's a thin excuse for gettin' a slice of D? Jesus fuck, I thought we were done with Supers when her brother mostly packed it in and stuck to Metropolis."

Her digitized voice laughed at him. "So you know her real identity. What else do you know? By the way, Canary said hello, and you need a shave."

Yeah, yeah, just remind him that he'd bumped into their operation while undercover. This was Gotham, the place was so thick with crooks he could've shot in any random direction and probably hit someone who deserved it. Jay spun in his chair, brooding and thinking about the new girl. "I know she's the front for a fuckin' Goth band. What, she thinks she can get more grimdark credit hanging out here? And since when does B let D bring his flavor of the week home? Hell, what the fuck was her dad thinking?"

"That she needs training, and B promised he'd provide," Babs said. "D has nothing to do with this. They hadn't even met, except briefly when she was a kid, until she got off the plane here."

"Yeah, well, they look too damn friendly in the promo pictures," Jay growled, scrolling through several sites that showed his too-handsome big brother draping his arm around the pretty singer. "Watch 'em, O, I may not be on D's side lately, but I'd hate to hear he got his 'little d' lasered off by an angry papa."

"Blur is an adult, and her father knows it," Oracle sighed. "Are you going to be difficult about her working Gotham? Even though we're keeping her off your turf? Because there are already two of us who consider this 'our' city and want to control access to it. And it's already hard enough coordinating between B and me."

"If speed is all she's got, she damn sure shouldn't be here," he spat, not answering the question. "This city's too fucking dangerous. And there's too much k on the streets."

"She has more than that going for her. Check my database," Babs replied.

He grinned. "I did. Nothing shows up. So much for my all-access pass, huh?"

Babs scoffed at him. "I never said you were getting _everything_. I gave you clearance for everything pertaining to Gotham City. But you're right, I hadn't switched her file from the Metropolis cluster to ours yet." A couple of keys clicked. "There you go, impatient."

"Bullshit," Jay said, even as he typed in his passcode and brought up the girl's file. "You're too organized and too borderline OCD not to have switched her over when she set foot in Gotham. Were you hiding her from me, or someone else?"

The information scrolled up, and yeah, she had more powers than just speed. Flight, heat-vision, invulnerability, strength, with notes saying that some were only part of Superman's capability. For fun, he pulled up Superboy's file too, comparing. The boy had more strength, less speed, and the frost breath thing. No flight though, that was just Blur's.

Blur also had a link in her file to something called the Nevada protocol, and Jay clicked it only to see 'Access denied' pop up on the screen. Babs had never answered him, so he asked another question. "What's this Nevada protocol?"

"Need-to-know only, and you don't need to know," she replied. "Anything else you'd like to complain about having my assistance?"

"Yeah, you're late on my regular shipment of cookies," he shot back. "Fuckin' customer service sucks ass. You know I'm in the middle of something here, O, just keep the trainee Super out of it, okay?"

"You're tracking the disappearances," she said. "B and the rest are leaving it to you. There are no plans to involve her in any of that."

Jay still grumbled. "She has no business in Gotham, period. Supers run on sunlight; it's too smoggy here."

"B and I both approved her training here – with both of us. You're been outvoted two to one." Babs sounded pretty decisive on that, and Jay decided to let it go.

For now.

As long as the Goth Super – wasn't _that_ a fucking oxymoron – kept out of his orbit, he didn't need to worry about her, anyway. What he did have to worry about was the kids on the Gotham streets whom no one else gave a shit about. "I got two leads for you on the disappearances," he told Babs. "It's a gray van with four guys in it, one of two business names on the side. I got a few more names – real names – of people missing, too."

"Hit me," Babs said, and her interest was clear even through the digitizer.

…

After rounds, Dinah, Helena, and Kala all headed back to the Clock Tower for debriefing. Kala was alive with curiosity; so the guy she'd yanked out of the way turned out to be the infamous Red Hood. Good thing he'd taken off when he did. She still owed him at least one solid punch for Tim spending a week in the hospital.

They found Babs scrolling through information on five screens simultaneously, at a rate that left Kala dizzied. "What's up?" Dinah asked curiously.

The light from the monitors washed over Babs' intent expression. "Hood gave me something to search for on those disappearances in the East End. You bumped into him as he was on his way to contact me."

"Correction: a _car_ almost bumped into him," Kala said, with enough of an edge that Dinah turned to look at her.

Babs said absently, "It takes more than a speeding car to put him out of commission."

Dinah simply chided, "You don't know him, Kala."

She crossed her arms and looked at the three of them. "There's a whole helluva lot I don't know in this town. But I was here the night he put Tim in the hospital. I found Steph before she could catch up to him. And Jase told me he tried to kill Bruce. Last I heard, the guy's unhinged."

"He seeks vengeance," Helena told her. "Our paths haven't crossed, and I cannot say I admire his methods, but I think … I can understand why he would see Tim as an adversary."

Babs paused the scrolling to lean back. "Not an adversary, a replacement," she said, with a sharp glance Helena's way. "Once you've bled for a uniform, it's a slap in the face to see someone else wearing it. No, I don't approve, but he hasn't gone for Tim since. And I've got at least a _slight_ rein on him now."

"You would know about reining in hotheaded vigilantes," Dinah said with a smirk.

"Perhaps too much so," Helena added archly. "Sometimes you come close to criticizing my _breathing_."

"Well if you'd just hold the inhale a little longer, and flatten out the exhale," Babs began, but she smiled, and Helena rolled her eyes with a muttered imprecation.

Kala raised her eyebrows, deciding a change of subject was in order. They were all being close-mouthed about the ex-Robin, so she'd have to find other ways to figure out what his deal was. Besides, Helena's accent was intriguing. "Is that Italian? And does it mean the same thing as the closest cognate in French?"

Helena just smiled her way. "My surname is Bertinelli," she said, the cadence of her syllables more noticeable. "I spent a good portion of my youth in Sicily. And how does the daughter of Superman, the All-American hero, speak French?"

"I was born in Paris," Kala said. "Mom tracked Dad there; it was the last place he was seen before he disappeared off planet. Once she was there researching, she found out he'd left a little something behind, with her. So I grew up speaking French and English."

"She has two other languages," Babs added. "Spanish and Kryptonese. The last of which I'm _still_ trying to get someone to teach me."

"You can't really speak it if you're not part Kryptonian," Kala said apologetically. "There's a couple sounds in it that the human larynx doesn't do. Mom tries, mostly so she can tell off the AI of my grandfather when he gets a little too 'mere mortals' about humanity."

"You are more interesting than I'd thought," Helena mused. "And don't mistake me, I knew you would be interesting. These two would tell me no more than your parentage."

Kala shrugged. "They wouldn't tell me your _name_ , so I guess we're even."

"Not everyone dives right into giving out nicknames and phone numbers like Mr. Grayson," Dinah teased, smirking at Kala.

She rolled her eyes, and Helena spoke with reluctance. "I did see your last public appearance with the Waynes. Dick Grayson is a very good man, but …"

Kala held her hands up to forestall any further warnings. "Look, guys, the whole public flirting thing is just us both being showboating divas. Dick and I like hamming it up for the camera, and we both look good doing it. No harm done to either of our reputations. But for the last damn time, I did _not_ come to Gotham for a summer fling!"

"And if you had, you've done more flirting for our team than the boys' so far anyway," Dinah cut in, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Helena gave a shrug. "I suppose Dick was amused by that. He's certainly not accustomed to a new arrival seeing _anyone_ else in the room except him, at first."

Dinah grinned. "Confused, maybe. She hit on Babs in front of him. Hey, do we have that on camera? Hel, I know you're well over the guy, but it's still funny watching the most eligible bachelor in town get shut down."

"I was making a point," Kala protested, while filing away that little tidbit about Dick and Helena. Apparently Timmy's acid remarks about Dick's popularity held a grain a truth. "I just didn't want you thinking I'm a goody two-shoes, okay? Jason's the good twin."

Babs chuckled. "We know better, but you couldn't have known how _much_ I knew at the time. And I wouldn't call that 'hitting on', Dinah. She was making an aside – and even I know we could use some humor in this town."

Helena was looking at her curiously then. "So she researched your entire history, too? Rather uncomfortable, isn't it?"

"Very," Kala agreed. "I was pretty pissed off, to be honest. But I got over it."

"So did I," Helena said, and the little bit of distance and reserve Kala had sensed in her melted then. "It's quite discomfiting to think you've hidden your identity, and your family's connections to organized crime, only to be met with someone who knows exactly who you are and everything your family has done."

"I knew who you _were_ ," Babs cut in. "You've made your own name since then, Helena. And you know all that sins-of-the-father stuff doesn't cut it with me."

Dinah stepped in then, adding, "Besides, you're more the mob's worst nightmare these days than Mafia princess."

"It's useful," Helena replied. "I still fit in among them. Which reminds me, if we're going to trade quips instead of debrief, I have a cover to keep in place. I need to make a call sometime tonight."

"You're still safe?" Dinah asked. "Frankie doesn't suspect?"

Helena waved a hand at her. "Frankie doesn't see past my cleavage. I don't think he'd notice if I grew another _head_. Once we have what we need, I'll be happy to get out, but I can deal with him until then." She chuckled. "He's far from the best man I've ever dated – that honor is probably Dick Grayson's – but he certainly isn't the worst, either."

"You really need to raise your standards, hon," Dinah said, sounding concerned.

Babs smiled sweetly. "No one's standards are as high as yours, Songbird. Remember Ray?"

"We're _not_ bringing that up again," Dinah said hurriedly.

That had the sound of an old not-quite-argument, and Kala sighed. There was just too much history for her to get caught up on. Helena stepped in to save her. "Let the lovebirds quarrel," she said. " _I_ am going out to make that call. There's nothing important in our work so far tonight, the jewel thieves were working alone, and I know a good all-night Chinese place. Kala, join me? We can trade stories of family legacies over lo mein."

"Gladly," she replied, but caught Babs' eye to make sure they weren't really needed.

Babs waved them both off, adding only, "Ask her about her day job, Hel."

…

"This makes no sense," Tim grumbled over the comm. He and Dick had been tracking Black Mask's men for most of the night, but they weren't _doing_ anything. So far the two men they followed, whom their intel indicated were fairly high-ranking, had just driven around the better parts of town, stopping briefly in a few hotels to talk to a few men who were staying there under obviously false names. Telescopic lenses showed that the men they met with were nervous, but not obviously twitchy like addicts. Or overconfident like dealers.

It didn't _look_ like drugs. But the conversations they'd picked up, from bugging the car and using directional microphones, sure sounded like drugs. The men talked in low voices about product, and delivery, and shipping schedules. They never named what the product _was_ , and that was typical of drug deals. Still, there was nothing that quite fit the data, not completely.

"I don't like it either," Dick replied. He touched his comm, and asked, "O, should we bring them in?"

"No," came the answer, but it was Bruce who spoke. "Keep them under surveillance. Eventually they'll slip up."

"In the meantime, I'm running all the leads I can," Babs added. "I've got one hit on the facial recognition software for the first group of men, the blond with the mustache. He's a surgeon, and interestingly enough, he's currently under investigation for medical malpractice and his license is suspended."

Tim leaned forward, interested. "We're seeing a lot more prescription drug abuse, lately. Maybe Mask is getting into that market? These doctors could be writing prescriptions for heavy narcotics for a fee."

"Mask certainly has enough people, and enough money for fake IDs, to make that work," Dick mused. "Robbing a pharmacy seems more his style, though."

"Maybe he's setting up his own clinic," Babs offered. "Most of the pain management clinics are legit, but some of them are just fronts. They employ doctors and pharmacists and fill the scripts in-house, and they take cash. I'll see if I can match the rest of the faces to medical professionals."

"It's a longer con than Mask usually goes for," Dick said thoughtfully.

"He wants out of the local stuff," Tim supplied. "He needs money to play on an international scale, and his last run-in with Hood all but wiped him out. This is an expanding, profitable market and one he can take anywhere in the state. If it's successful, he can open more elsewhere, with doctors licensed to practice in other states. Not to mention, if they fill their own scripts, he could be adulterating the pain meds with illicit drugs."

Their targets left the hotel, and Dick and Tim moved to follow them. Tracking the men was easier than tracing their employer's thought processes, yet still they tried to do both.

…

The next morning, Kala woke up early and groaned. She had stayed up late, after picking up really good Chinese takeout from Helena's favorite place – which was now also Kala's. They'd even been nice enough to bring food back to the Clock Tower, though Babs was deep in three different lines of research by then and paid no attention to the continuing conversation between Helena, Kala, and Dinah. She only ate because Dinah threatened to feed her, bite by bite.

Babs' comment about her day job had prompted Helena to ask about it, and the dark-haired woman had wrinkled her nose at the answer. "A _singer?_ " she'd asked, confused. "With all you can do, why choose that profession?"

Though she was discovering she quite liked Helena, Kala couldn't help but bristle at the implications there. God, if people knew how much she hated that. "One, because I've wanted to be a singer since I was four years old and had no idea who Superman was," Kala had shot back. "Two, have any of you ever wondered why Dad is a reporter? He has all these powers, but he chose a job where they don't matter. Where he competes with the same qualities as the humans working alongside him – intelligence, writing ability, intuition, courage, integrity. Same deal for me. Yeah, I probably have better breath control thanks to my heritage, but being able to put my heart in my voice and make people _feel_ something when they hear me sing? That has nothing to do with being a Super, and everything to do with being _me_."

That had led to further discussion of childhood dreams and how they'd been achieved or shelved over time, which led into the trials of growing up as they all had, and eventually led to Kala realizing the sun would be coming up soon and she had a photo shoot scheduled.

Which was why she was now splashing water on her face and cursing herself. At least none of them had been drinking, so she didn't have a hangover on top of sleep deprivation. As it was, she'd only managed about four hours before she had to head out to the studio, borrowing Tim's car this time because he'd rolled his eyes the most at the idea of photo shoots. Four hours of sleep would've sufficed, if she could've taken twenty minutes to hover in the sunlight high above the Earth, but that was off limits.

So she drove, and had the sense to show up at the studio with just moisturizer on her face. It was rare for Kala not to at least have eyeliner and lip gloss; these days, she felt naked without it. Less than a year ago, face and hair had been her own work, sometimes even extending to getting the boys presentable before head-shots and performances. The current state of things added a sheen of luxury to everything; since the promotions had begun earlier this year, Kala had had to remind herself that this kind of fame came with its own perks, so she willingly flopped into a chair and let the hair and makeup stylists work their magic with the sweetest smile she could manage while sleep-deprived. Time to switch gears and become KLK again.

Her phone rang, almost immediately, and Kala groaned at the name displayed. She answered it though, putting it on speaker so she didn't disrupt the stylists' work. "Hi Jenna," she said. "I'm here, I'm on time, I'm plainly _not_ having a diva moment. What's up?"

"Just checking in. I'll be there in ten," her agent replied, and they chatted for a few moments. Once she'd established to Jenna's satisfaction that she wasn't going to go off the rails during the next few minutes, the agent let her go again, and Kala sighed heavily.

"Careful, you're gonna give yourself frown lines," the makeup guy warned, but he smiled at her to show it was just a joke. Kala chuckled, and tried to relax.

Of course, her phone rang again, but this was a call she looked forward to. The inconsistency of her schedule lately, plus the hours she was keeping, was making it impossible to have any real contact with anyone outside of rushed texts. For far, at this point, she was only managing one call out a week to anyone. Looked like Sebast had gotten the text about Kala's Day Out. Either that or Jenna had poked him so she'd remember her responsibilities. She found herself really hoping for the former. " _Hola_ , Chupi," she said as she answered.

"I'm going to start this call out with the important stuff and you better have a good excuse. _Mamita_ , why didn't you tell me you were gonna be living in a house full of hot rich boys?" Sebast complained, the familiar tone of petulant crabbing making Kala grin. "I just saw those photos of you and Officer Grayson. Mm, turns out I _do_ like a man in uniform. Unf. Your 'Uncle Bruce' ain't half bad either, he's got that silver fox thing going on. Clearly, _querida_ , you don't love me as much as you say."

She had to lean back from the stylists and laugh out loud. Kala had expected absolutely nothing less from the moment she had made the decision to come out here. Really, she'd been lucky he'd been too distracted to research before she had left. "Sebast! Oh my _God_ , you … there are no words for you. See, this is why I knew not to bring you anywhere near here. Ever."

"Tough luck, babe, we have two stops there on the tour," he shot back with a laugh. "Yeah, can't blame you, all of 'em are too damn good looking. I need to make you take up designated hitter again." Kala could almost hear this eyebrow waggle that she knew from experience accompanied the comment. "So you got the photoshoot for GQ today?"

"Last time I was your designated hitter, it wound up being a two-year relationship," she retorted with a laugh of her own. "Yes, I'm actually already here, and I think my awesome makeup guy and hair stylist are about to chloroform me so I'll get off the damn phone and hold still," she teased. They both laughed at that; Kala was already gaining a reputation in the industry for being particularly considerate and appreciative of the support staff. It bought her a few indulgences, like yakking on the phone when she should've been getting ready.

"I know, _mamita_ ," Sebast sighed, his tone changing. "I just … I miss you."

She swallowed, her throat suddenly tight. Memories flooded her mind: playing pranks in school, bad horror movies and ice cream after breakups, singing their hearts out together in every dive bar within four hundred miles of Metropolis, dyeing their hair to match, the big party after getting signed by the label, going on the tour as the leaders of the crazy little pack that was their band. Always, _always_ Sebast at her side, with deep affection and wicked sarcasm and everything she needed. They called each other platonic soul mates for a reason. Even if it wasn't quite so platonic anymore. That, in itself, hurt. Her voice was husky when she replied, "I miss you, too, Sebast."

"Try to call me once in a while, then," he told her softly. And before she could protest, he continued, "I know, I know. You're running crazy this summer. You call me more than you call your parents. I understand. I'm not trying to guilt-trip you."

She winced just the same. How could he understand what was going on with her when there was no way to explain any of it, not even the personal side of things? Kala just couldn't chance it. "Chupi, I wish I could've brought you with me," she told him, heartfelt. Hell, she wished she could've just told him the _real_ reason why she was in Gotham. As close as they were, Sebast didn't know one of the most important things about her.

No one from her real life did, except family. And they kept it that way for a reason. The Blur didn't have any specific enemies, not yet, but the nature of being a superhero meant that someday someone was going to make _you_ their preferred target. When that happened, it was for the best if no one even guessed the truth. Especially about Kryptonians.

"I'll let you get to work, beautiful," Sebast was saying.

Kala took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Homesickness was never worse than it was after a phone call from him, which was one of the reasons calling was so hard. Her emotions were too up-in-the-air with him lately. She just had to take some time. "It's only two months now," Kala said, soothingly. "I'll be back before you know it."

He chuckled at that, seeming to sense he was bringing her down. "I live for that moment, _querida_. Do you have any idea how crazy these boys are? Robb and Ned got Morgan – _Morgan_ , who won't go onstage without a mani-pedi – to go bowling with them. _Bowling_. I didn't know bowling alleys were still a thing."

Kala chuckled at the image of their notoriously-meticulous guitarist in an alley, house ball in hand and those hideous bowling shoes on his feet. Oh, this she would have to see at least once. "He had to be bored out of his mind to accept."

"He says it was _fun_. We need you, Kala. Without you we're degenerating into deviancy." And then, in a low mock-horrified whisper, "They want me to go bowling with them this weekend. It's starting to sound _fun_."

She laughed out loud, shaking her head. "I don't even wanna know. I love you, Sebast. Be good, or be good at it."

"Oh, I'll be good at bowling, I'm used to swinging around big balls," he said, and she snorted laughter. "I love you too, Kala. See if you can't sneak one of those pretty boys home in your luggage."

"The only one who'd fit is Tim, and that is _so_ not happening," she teased, then they both hung up. With a sigh, she looked up at the patiently-waiting stylist and makeup artist. "Sorry, guys. He misses me."

"And you miss him, clearly," the stylist said with a grin. "It's not a problem, we've got a few extra minutes. I think your agent is out in the hall talking to the photographer."

"Oh joy," she murmured, tipping her head back to let them work. There was something soothing about letting someone else fuss over her hair and makeup – though it had taken a while to get used to anyone else doing so.

Meanwhile she listened in to Jenna's conversation with the photographer in the hall. _"Give up on pastels,"_ she advised. _"Don't shoot her in all black, either. Yeah, she's a Goth singer, but she'll wear some color. Just nothing too froufy. She likes royal blue, and green, and vintage stuff."_

" _I've got some vintage and some designer,"_ the photographer replied. _"I've never shot her before – is she good to work with?"_

Kala smirked a little even as Jenna replied, _"Oh yeah. She's a doll. I mean, she won't wear anything she hates, and God himself couldn't make her, but she still thinks all this is fun. And she's nice – unless you really piss her off somehow. Which I've only seen happen once and it was_ _ **ugly**_ _. That guy got called out by a few other celebrities for being a little handsy with posing. KLK warned him once, then laid him out on the floor with one hit, and walked out. Apparently she did karate as a kid."_

" _Shiiiit,"_ the photographer replied, sounding impressed instead of scared. Kala frowned; she hadn't wanted that particular story repeated. _"I think I know who that was. He deserved it, the bastard. Okay, I've got this one set in green, and I think we'll play against type with a lot of white. How much skin is she gonna show?"_

" _It_ _ **is**_ _a men's magazine,"_ Jenna replied, while Kala tried not to frown and mess up the makeup guy's work. GQ wasn't Maxim … or Playboy, for that matter, and she'd considered doing an article for the latter if the accompanying photos were very much clothed. Jenna continued, _"But her parents are both big-name reporters, and they're gonna want signed copies. Nothing too crazy."_

" _No worries, I'd rather do artsy anyway,"_ he replied, and at that Kala relaxed.

"Okay, look up," the makeup artist said, and she concentrated on holding very still so he could line her eyes. In a moment they'd both be in here anyway, and she had to pretend she hadn't heard them through a solid wall.

Luckily her eyes were done, and she could sit forward a little and beam as the photographer walked in. He gave her a bright, professional smile, and came toward her with his hand extended. "Ms. Lane-Kent, it's a pleasure to meet you. Or do you prefer KLK?"

She took his hand and gave him her most winning smile in return, wanting to prove that Jenna had been right. In this industry, being a professional meant being gracious and helpful to everyone – and not letting your fame go to your head. That, she was damn good at. If ever she started to believe her own hype, Jase could bring her down just by laughingly calling her Mothra.

Meanwhile she greeted the photographer by name, and continued, "You can call me Kala. And yes, it's my real name. Blame Mom, it's an obscure family in-joke. It's a pleasure to work with you as well."

"All right, let's have some fun," he said, beaming.

And that was plan she could _definitely_ get behind, after weeks of serious training.


	10. Words Like Violence

Authors' Note: We couldn't resist posting the chapter wherein our principle characters finally meet as soon as it was ready. Enjoy!

* * *

Sparring again, and the last couple weeks of practice showed as Kala fluidly blocked Tim's staff. She'd taken up the escrima sticks that Dick and Babs both favored, and she'd been learning from both of them. Patrolling with Helena and Dinah almost every night, too. Despite the lack of sunlight that made her feel sluggish, her reaction time was still good enough to make sparring interesting.

Tim whirled the staff, feinted at her head, then reversed his grip and tried to sweep her feet. He was really damn good with that weapon, and Kala no longer grimaced when he got in a strike. She evaded it this time, jumping over the staff, her eyes alight. She struck out at his head, knowing he'd avoid the blow, grinning as she danced back.

Kala felt the shift in the air, and ducked, rolling away from Dick. "Ganging up on me again?" she laughed, and set out to deal with them both. No powers, no need for them, even if Dick caught her across the shoulders with his own sticks.

Her reaction to _that_ was still to swear, but that was just how she dealt with pain. It wasn't personal at all. The boys hit each other just as hard, when they were sparring. Kala dodged them both, getting in hits of her own, feeling sweat slide down her spine. This was one hell of a workout for all of them, no more of that half-tempo stuff, and she was grateful over and over again for the dance training that gave her such precise command of her own body. Every muscle responded exactly as she needed it to.

"Enough," Bruce said, and all three of them stopped, weapons lowered as they panted for breath. He looked at them thoughtfully, and finally said, "Kala, you've made a lot of progress."

"Thank you, Uncle Bruce," she said, smiling.

His expression changed ever so slightly, but she was learning to read it. Uncle Bruce's eyes were friendly, but the Bat's were calculating. It was Batman who spoke now, his voice low and serious. "Your work with the Birds of Prey has also been satisfactory. It's time. We're going to break into Black Mask's current drug-running operation two nights from now. I can use your talents there."

The hair stood up at the nape of her neck as a cold chill ran down her back, every muscle loosened by exertion tensing up again. Straight from kiddie patrol with the Birds to going after one of Batman's rogues? As eager as she was to _do_ something of consequence in this town, that spooked her a little.

But if Batman said she was ready, then she was. And he wouldn't be sending her alone. She nodded solemnly. "All right. Just tell me what you need me to do."

He nodded approvingly, the warmth coming back into his expression. "Your reaction proves me right," he said, glancing at Dick. "When you first came to Gotham, you wanted a chance to fight the rogues. Now you know enough to be intimidated – but not for long. We won't be dealing with Mask himself, though. Just a few of his underlings. There are aspects of this operation that don't mesh with anything Mask has done before, so I want a closer look."

Dick sighed and rolled his shoulders. "Finally. I don't like this whole situation, but yeah, even I have to admit Kala's gonna be okay out there. Especially with all of us backing her. How are you planning to play this?"

Bruce – and it was definitely Bruce, not the Bat – smiled. "Kala's a celebrity. Let's let her have the spotlight for a moment. They'll be so busy dealing with a new and relatively unknown cape, they won't even notice us."

At that thought, Kala grinned fiercely. "I never thought being a showoff would become a tactical asset," she laughed.

"That's why you need a master strategist planning things," Bruce replied gravely, and they all fell to plotting their next move.

…

Big Tommy was sitting in the living room when Julio came in, and all he said to the leader was, "Need to talk to everybody." But just those five words put the boy's hackles up, because they sounded _nothing_ like Big Tommy. Much too clear, much too serious, and the look in his pale blue eyes had lost its affable fogginess.

"You a fuckin' cop?" Julio asked, backing toward the door. The rest of the kids were already there, none of them having seen the change until the man spoke up, and they were alert enough to edge toward their own exits.

The man who'd pretended to be Big Tommy rolled his eyes. "Hell no. There's some decent cops in Gotham, but none of 'em are dedicated enough at undercover to eat food out of the freakin' dumpster. Chill. I'm not a cop, I'm not a gangster, I'm not a pimp. But I've got to leave you guys, and I need to make sure you're safe when I go."

"I'm not goin' in fuckin' foster care again," one of the boys muttered, he thought it was Lenny, and Carl just glared in furious betrayal.

"Come on, I spent a month and a half buying liquor for the bunch of you, I'm not sending you to foster care either," Tommy said, rolling his eyes. "Jesus. Sit down, chill out. You can stay _here_ ; I bought the building. I'm not turning the power on 'cause that'll be obvious to anyone outside, and they'll try to take the place. But you'll have running water tomorrow."

"You bought the building?" Julio asked, intrigued in spite of himself.

Tommy scoffed. "You gotta stay _somewhere_. And you all need to lay low for awhile, 'cause I found out who's been grabbing kids off the street, and it's fuckin' Black Mask. Now I gotta go deal with that asshole, and I don't want any of you getting caught up in it."

Silence reigned, as all the kids looked at each other. Finally, Carl spoke, her voice timid. "You're not a cop, but you're going after Black Mask. Are you … are you _Batman_?"

"Fuck no!" Tommy spat, but he was laughing. "Abso-fucking-lutely _not_. Jesus fuck, do you even know _anything_ about the Bat? He'd never fucking _tell you_ he was leaving, he'd just be gone. And you'd have social services in here about three seconds later trying to save you all." The sneer on his lips showed exactly what he thought of _that_ asinine plan, and the kids relaxed slightly.

"Then who are you?" Julio asked. "'Cause you're _somebody_. Normal people don't just go 'deal with' Black Mask. Who're you, Red Robin? Nightwing?"

Tommy snorted. "Shit, I've got fifty pounds and six inches on the little birdie. Almost that on Nightwing. No, I'm not somebody you've seen running rooftops in spandex. Quit it. The less you know, the safer you are."

He stood up, shrugging his shoulders. "Stay here for a while, and lay low, okay? I'm not tryin' to recruit you or anything. Taking a whole damn pack of sidekicks isn't my style, and you've all got your own shit to deal with. But it'd be pretty shitty of me to just walk out and leave when I know damn well that Mask's people are hunting kids. It'll be easier to do my job if you guys are halfway safe."

"Why do you care?" Lenny asked, chin jutting out. "You just needed us to get info, right? That's why you were here."

He looked at all of them. "I came down here to find out what was happening to the missing kids. You guys helped me do that. I'm not _that_ much of an asshole, not to try and help you back."

A sigh, and he added, "Also because, same reason I care about the missing kids in the first place. I _was_ one of you guys. You think the Bat's crew knows how to live on the street? They don't. None of them come from down here. I do. I've been where you are. And the world gives you enough shit, you don't need some fucker like Black Mask kidnapping you on top of it."

The ferocity in his eyes burned hot and clean; no, this wasn't Batman, but Julio knew he had to be _somebody_ that turned up in the news regularly. Very few people talked confidently about going toe-to-toe with Black Mask, or any of the masked crazies in Gotham. This guy whose name wasn't Tommy was way too ready for that fight.

And he was still talking. "I'm not putting you on house arrest or any dumb shit like that. But you're safer staying in, staying quiet, and staying _together_. So, here's this. Julio, you're in charge of making sure it gets spent on _food_ , okay? And clothes, and like soap and stuff." With that, he picked up the worn backpack at his feet and tossed it to Julio.

Inside was money – banded packs of fives and tens. Enough money for all of them to eat, and eat _well_ , for two weeks. Plus changes of clothes that for once wouldn't have to be stolen out of a charity drop bin. Julio weighed it, then looked up at the man who wasn't Tommy nervously. "This legit?"

"It ain't counterfeit," he replied. "And it ain't stolen, either. Be careful – you know what'll happen if people think you have money."

"How long do we have to lay low?" one of the others asked.

"'Til Black Mask is out of commission," he replied. "Don't worry, I'll let you know when it's safe. If it takes longer than a couple weeks I'll drop off more cash. You just – be careful."

Julio looked at him long and carefully. He had an idea who Tommy _really_ was, but the man in front of him was clearly conflicted and didn't like the idea of leaving them all alone. He figured the concern was real.

But they were all survivors. If he'd come from the streets like he said, he knew that. And at least he had the sense not to try and save any of them. They'd hate him for it if he did. More importantly, they'd run if he tried, and more than likely run right into Mask's crew.

With one last look, the man turned to go. Julio followed him to the entryway, where he stopped, looking at Julio with one dark brow raised. "This isn't the first time you've gone against Black Mask," he said, so quietly the other kids couldn't here.

But Carl was behind him, and she added just as softly, "Not in spandex, but I think we've seen you running rooftops before. More like … motorcycle jacket?"

He couldn't help smiling for one quick second, before locking that down into a scowl. And yeah, Julio's guess was right, they'd had fucking _Red Hood_ living in their flophouse for a fucking month. Jesus H. Christ. Probably the most dangerous guy in town. The whole city knew about him killing a shitload of drug dealers, last time he was in the news. Wiley was lucky the guy hadn't just snapped him in half.

And – Julio knew that Carl had been sleeping beside him, but _sleep_ was all that went on between them. Who'd've figured Red Hood was a white knight?

"The less you know, the safer you are," he repeated, and looked at Carl in particular. "I'm not somebody you want to hang around, okay? People get killed around me. Sometimes it's not even my fault, but that's the way it is. You want good guys who're safe to hang around, you want _heroes_?" He spat the word, his eyes ice-cold. "Move to Metropolis."

And on that note, he was gone. Julio stood staring at the door for another long moment, thinking, and Carl sidled up beside him. Very quietly, she said, "He protected us. He's still protecting us."

Julio shook his head. "He's right, though. That doesn't make him safe. Black Mask still has a huge hate-on for that guy. If Mask's people knew there was _anyone_ in the city Red Hood might possibly give a shit about, we'd all be hanging off the bridge by our ankles for target practice."

She shivered, and Julio side-hugged her, hoping this with Mask would end soon.

…

First night out on _real_ patrol with the boys. The already long night was just getting longer and each additional second danced across her nerves like a samba contest. A blast of humid air struck Kala as she stared down from the rooftop in the yellow light illuminating the alley below. She grimaced uncomfortably, feeling the moisture under her domino. Never had she been more grateful for her decision to ditch the trench; as the summer had progressed, it was just impossible to wear all the time; she'd have died of heat-stroke. Without the heft of it, there was less drama in the Blur's attacks, but she was making it up with skill and grace. Between the training with the Birds and the training with the Bats, her form was improving by the day.

They'd all been on stakeout for over an hour—she, Tim, Dick, and Bruce spread out across the perimeter and in constant contact with Oracle—and they'd been mostly silent the entire time, all listening for the signal. Kala was the only one chafing at the delay as usual; it was only through significant self-control that she wasn't fidgeting, as learning to simply stay still for long periods had been one of the hardest things to master. Her family very rarely lay in wait for anyone, Dad usually locating his target by super-hearing and swooping in when the time was right. Jason had Tim to locate for him, and then he'd drop in like a ton of bricks. Even Mom had done quite a bit of surveillance back in the day, but she'd admitted with a laugh that she'd been caught a time or two because her patience had run out. Forced inactivity had always been difficult for Kala, and this was putting it to a definite test. As it was, she wouldn't _dare_ screw it up; she'd wait 'til dawn if she had to. It had taken too long for Bruce to trust that she was ready enough, and she wouldn't risk making him rethink that. Never mind how much patrolling she had already done with Dinah and Helena; that said, even the Birds rarely stayed perched for this long. Kala stifled a groan for frustration.

It didn't exactly help to know that she'd endure unending hell from both Dick and Tim if they knew all this waiting was making her crazy. Living in the shadow of Bruce all these years had made all of this second nature to them. The training sessions where she ran up against mental blocks, like holding still, had been a source of constant amusement for them. Apparently Jason took to the meditation-type stuff a little better than she did.

At least she'd been able to surprise them with sparring. If her brother hadn't been pulling his punches out of fear of the damage he could do, as she understood he had during his training with the Bats, they might not have been. But then, her strength had never been one of her more prominently-utilized powers, so it had become something most people forgot about, regardless of her origin. No one, certainly not Dick or Tim, had ever expected her to fight hard and dirty.

Looking back on all those training sessions, she grinned again. Being that unpredictable in a fight had become the main thing keeping the boys off her back. Well, besides her having been raised with a brother and therefore half-prepared. Because the only thing deadlier than their moves was the razor-sharp snark out of a Robin's mouth.

But her moment of mental self-congratulations was derailed then, as Oracle's voice finally sounded in her ear, the com-unit going live. "They're on the move. South-western quadrant."

 _About damn time,_ she cursed silently, swiveling as she rose from her perch to launch herself in the direction Oracle had indicated. God, it felt good to just _move_ at this point. Any more time spent hunched over and still, and she'd worried that she might turn into one of the gargoyles that seemed to decorate half the city. The thought brought a flash of gleaming grin. _If I was an utter dork like Dick, this would be where I'd make a_ _ **Goth**_ _am City joke. Thankfully for everyone, not a Robin._

Thanks to her training, her body responded as if she'd just warmed up, and she made the leap to the warehouse roof without even using a touch of her flight, landing easily on her toes to sprint across the roof and fall into another crouch at the opposite ledge. Her focus went right to the alley below, where Black Mask's men were starting to load crates onto a small, refrigerated truck. _Weird. Why the heck do they need cold storage for drugs?_ she mused to herself.

The man himself—if he could even be called that, with that damn skull-thing for a face—wasn't present, but one of his senior lieutenants stood just outside the warehouse doors, directly beneath Kala, his arms crossed over a crisp suit as he supervised the transfer of the drugs. Kala couldn't help a snarl of disgust. The whole lot of them were scum and, after all she'd heard about his operations, they deserved everything Bruce had planned for them.

All Kala had to do was wait for the signal from deeper into the alley, a movement of shadow that she knew would be there when Bruce gave the 'go', and she'd be the one to swoop down and get the party started. Then it would be up to the Bats to come in and clean up the mess, taking each guy out one at a time as she drew any gunfire.

Of course, she wasn't exactly bullet-proof right now, but she had a borrowed kevlar vest under her costume. That, coupled with speed, went a long way, and she'd always loved turning heads—

A flash of the tip of a cape, shadowy movement in the dark of the alley, and the signal was given. Leaping down from her perch, Kala prepared to land right in front of Black Mask's lieutenant, her plan to sweep his legs out from under him before setting in on the hired muscle.

But gunfire erupted before she even made it down from the roof, coming in from a direction she hadn't anticipated, from the opposite end of the alley, where none of Mask's men had been sighted. Over her comm, Tim called out a brusque warning, and Kala snarled under her breath, "Who's this trigger-happy asshole?!" Instinctively, she grabbed her target around the shoulders when she landed, pulling him down and out of the line of fire. Damn ethics, but what other choice did she have? Regardless of the horrors that their boss ordered at times, _killing_ these creeps wasn't an option.

To her shock, her rhetorical question was answered, a new voice speaking in her comm. Gruff, male, and amused. "Name's Red Hood," he told her. "Stay outta my line of fire, kid."

Red Hood, again. Wonderful. Kala just growled, and the lieutenant she'd knocked down was starting to look lively. "Stay down," she ordered as she knocked his handgun away with a swift kick, the alley suddenly filling with bright flashes and the deafening roar of a dozen men all firing wildly, all of them shouting too, incomprehensible beneath the cacophony. Her head spiked in pain; she hadn't knocked her hearing back from high-alert. Returning to a crouch and shaking her head to clear the sudden throbbing of her eardrums, she reclaimed her bearings and took quick stock of the situation. None of the gunfire seemed to be aimed at her, but instead at the direction of their unexpected company, so none of the thugs were at all prepared for the Bats as they surrounded them, precision strikes delivering pain and impermanent paralysis. _So the Hood stole my thunder there. I wonder…_ But the thought was forgotten as she plunged into the fray.

One by one, the hired muscle fell, Kala joining the action with a few well-aimed strikes of her own to take down two men. A few more seconds, and the alley went relatively quiet, Kala's ears ringing as she swiveled to check that all of Black Mask's men were accounted for. As planned, they were all down for the count, unconscious, a few bleeding, save for—

One more sudden gunshot, and Kala jerked her head up in instant reaction to find Black Mask's lieutenant lurching forward from where he'd been trying to reach for his gun, his hand going to his shoulder instead as blood poured from a fresh wound.

"What the hell are you _doing,_ Hood?" Dick shouted, and Kala whirled to see Nightwing stalking across the sea of comatose thugs to grab their unexpected visitor around the bicep. "You were _not_ read-in on this one, and we had it under control. If any of them die, it's on _your_ hands."

But Kala didn't even have a moment to process what had just happened, as her comm unit hissed with sudden static, and Oracle's voice met her, "Blur, O. Report."

Tearing her gaze away from the scene that was brewing near the mouth of the alley, Kala activated her comm with the touch of a finger, and replied, "Targets are all down and accounted for. At least one shot, nonlethal. B and R are securing the rest."

"Understood. Ambulances are on their way. Oh, and give Red Hood my regards."

"Yeah, sure. Will do. Blur out."

Turning back to the shouting match that was escalating between Nightwing and Red Hood, Kala let out a heavy breath. So _this_ was the elusive Jason Todd that she'd heard about and encountered so briefly, the infamous absent brother and second former-Robin. From what she could see of him, all leather and denim, capped with a literal red helmet with indiscernible eyes, she had to wonder, was the little she'd heard of him true? Only one way to find out.

…

Jerking his arm out of Dick's grip, Jay stowed his gun in its holster and snarled beneath his helmet, "If any of them die, don't think it won't make me happy. But for your information, I was shooting to incapacitate. I _can_ aim."

Dick only stepped closer, moving right into Jay's personal space as Bruce and Tim worked on zip-stripping the fallen thugs, the Blur a little ways off, talking into her comm, probably to Oracle. "Still not your call, _Red."_

A flash of rage surged through Jay, and he sucked in a breath, straightening to match Dickie-Bird move for move. "I had Mask's little hatchet job fair and square. This was my case from the get-go, so if you think you're just gonna swoop in and take all the credit, you are sadly mistaken."

"We're all well aware of your work with Mask's organization," Dick shot back, pressing closer, if it was at all possible. As if the allusion to his personal little gang war held any sway over him. That was ages ago, and the blood Jay had spilled to try to take down Black Mask was good and dried up by now. His ties to the current case, however, weren't.

And he'd had entirely fucking _enough_ of Dick's little show. Resisting the urge to pull his weapon back out, he planted his hands on Dick's chest and shoved him, hard, sending him stumbling to regain his balance. "Do you even have any idea what they're transporting?" Jay spat. "Do you?"

Dick's mouth thinned into a hard line, his jaw working as if he was searching for an answer. After a tense moment, all he came up with was, "Heroin. Cocaine. A dozen other controlled substances."

Jay couldn't help a barking laugh at that. "Drugs? Really? In a _refrigerated_ truck?" he taunted, stepping over to the vehicle. A hop up into the back, and he came out with a cheap cooler, the white styrofoam container lifted out of one of the crates. "It's a little more involved than drugs, _Dickie."_

With a quick tug on the lid, he opened the cooler, exposing the contents.

And he snickered when Dick's face went pale at the sight a neatly-wrapped human liver, nestled in a bed of ice.

"Is—is that—?" Dick sputtered, pointing at the clear-plastic packages, their contents completely visible, and certainly recognizable from their shapes.

Jay scoffed, surveying the other coolers. At least they were labeled. "Livers. Kidneys. A couple sets of lungs, with hearts. Couple of eyes, oh look, even some tendons. You name it, they harvested it."

He could sound detached to Dick, but he wanted to howl with rage. These organs had been harvested earlier in the day; he'd missed saving these people's lives by mere hours. Babs had gotten him the info he needed and he'd tracked down one of Mask's men and eventually convinced him to talk, but it had all taken just a little too long. How many dead bodies were in that warehouse? How many kids like the ones he'd just left behind last night?

By then, Bruce and Tim had finished securing Mask's men, and they and Goth Barbie had all gathered around, looking on with slightly ill expressions. The girl looked especially green around the gills, obviously not used to seeing this particular side of the job, although she was obviously trying to power through.

"You had no idea," Jay scoffed, a more bitter anger settling in as he realized just how clueless they all were. "This is what I've been following while you were playing with _drugs_. All the chatter about missing runaways? Prostitutes? Rival gang-members? Where'd you think they were all going, fucking Narnia?! Are you kidding me!?" he shouted, shoving the cooler back in place. Just fucking figured that they had no damn idea what was going on out here.

Bruce, of course, had the audacity to look not even the slightest bit embarrassed for their lack of intel, his arms crossed over his chest. "All the evidence we had pointed to a major drug operation, running out of a set of fifteen locations spread throughout the city. And this warehouse was the central hub. There was nothing to indicate … _this."_

Jay rolled his eyes beneath his helmet, curled his hands into fists. "This was the central hub, all right," he started, his voice rising with his rage, "of a black market organ harvesting operation! They've got a client list a mile long! Been bunching the kids for weeks, then harvesting all at once. Kept the organs nearly frozen, just enough to keep them alive while they extorted a bunch of rich assholes' fortunes. If they're running drugs too, it's a sideline, part of keeping their 'donors' quiet 'til the surgeons start in." Turning his gaze on the girl that'd had the misfortune of teaming up with his idiot family tonight, he asked, "What about you? You got anything intelligent to add?"

She only crossed her arms over her corset-top—seriously, a corset-top, in _this_ town?—and frowned at him, her left eyebrow raising over a black domino. Her eyes narrowed as she boldly met his gaze head-on. Entirely too much like a Bat. For a brief second, Jay wanted to smack the look right off her face, but that would just be too fucking easy. "Oracle sends her regards," she spat at last, the tone implying words far stronger than that, her body shifting to project a faux-confidence that Jay had seen way too many times now, mostly on hookers and little girls that fancied themselves heroes until they got their asses killed. Her gaze never leaving his, she added, "Ambulances and police are on their way. We might want to take this elsewhere, boys."

Right on cue, the faint sound of wailing sirens started up, growing louder fast. It wouldn't be long before they got here.

"Fuck," Jay swore, before nodding to the girl, "Tell O to call for medical reinforcements. These organs won't last out here, and maybe they can still do _somebody_ some good."

Tim spoke up then, "What about the people those were taken from?"

Jay smirked darkly, his gut twisting. "You think there's a chance in hell Mask left them alive? Don't be an idiot."

But time was running out. Nodding to the bunch of them, he barked out, "Fifty-third and MacArthur, inside the old parking garage, twenty minutes. I'll give you everything I've got on Mask's operation," and without another word, shot off his grapple for the rooftop to high-tail it outta there. Little as he liked sharing information with the Bats, this was more than he could take on by himself. At least, if he tried to do it some other way than just killing every-damn-body involved. Even then, Mask would get wary, and Jay wanted to put that fucker back in Blackgate where he belonged.

So, play nice with the 'family' and show them up, too. There'd be time for introductions and mission briefings soon enough, plenty of time to read them all the fucking _novel_ of intel he'd gathered over the last four months. But man, how he wanted a proper introduction to the pretty little Goth Princess. There _had_ to be a story behind that attitude, and that stupid outfit.


	11. Act Two: Cat and Mouse

_Asshole._

 _Fucking holier-than-thou asshole_.

Kala's mind was stuck on a profane loop, seething over the dismissive way that trigger-happy nutjob had handled the situation. His case originally or not, who the hell walked into a takedown in progress and started shooting it up? No matter how well he aimed, it was too big of a risk.

They'd made it to the safe house in good time, a seemingly abandoned garage in an even nastier part of town, and were now waiting for their host to arrive, tucked into the darkest corners of the old parking deck as dim yellow light from old overheads buzzed irritatingly. Kala didn't know what was bothering her worse: the realization of just how wrong they'd been about what Black Mask was moving—and she could _definitely_ tell how bad it was bugging Bruce—or the scathing dismissal she'd received. She made a face then, annoyed with herself as she leaned back heavily against the wall. That sounded so pathetic. The truth was, as many saves as she'd been on since she'd first started backing Jase, this was one thing she hadn't encountered yet. Yeah, she'd known things like this happened, but this was the first time she'd seen it first-hand.

It wasn't as if it didn't happen in Metropolis, either; she knew it did, but never so openly. She couldn't even imagine Dad's reaction. Or Jason's. Maybe there was a reason her twin never really talked about his training here, only his memories of the more amusing incidents. She felt a surge of sympathy for him then. But maybe they needed this, the occasional punch in the gut to remind them how dark humanity could get, so they could appreciate the brightness. God, how many people could they have killed… And there was no way to save them now. It hurt to know it. Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, she pushed the thought away. There was nothing she could do, not now. Even with her powers. It was too late now. Too little, too late.

 _Enough,_ she told herself with a frown, shifting uncomfortably. _It won't do any damn good to dwell on it now. Let it go, Kal, or you'll make yourself crazy. This is Gotham; things like this happen every night. We just have to be good enough to stop the next one. It's over. We managed to at least save the organs in time and that'll save a few more lives. Drop it._

Knowing that it would eat at her, she forced herself to switch gears to the less-important injustice. Just hearing the curt way Red Hood had singled her out made her grit her teeth. Exactly who the hell was he to point fingers, if half of what she'd heard was true? And why wasn't he already sharing information with Bruce if he was supposed to be working with the family again? She could hear his snide voice in her head now and all his inflection had implied. The way he'd looked at her… There was no holding back a surge of temper then.

She turned her head to face Dick, who was leaning against the wall just to her left, scowling to himself. "Is he always such a sanctimonious bastard?" she asked through gritted teeth, not even bothering to say the jerk's name. "And why are we even bothering to wait? I'm sure we could find his files in a few minutes. Would serve him right."

Dick huffed out a laugh, turning to meet her gaze with a slight smirk. "Oracle could be in and out in less than that, but that's not how we operate. Not with … family, anyway."

Something about the way he said 'family' piqued Kala's interest, and she couldn't help the rise of an eyebrow. Clearly, things weren't so cozy with all the Bats as they tried so hard to make everyone believe. Not that it should've been a surprise; she'd known about the other brother, knew he'd become Red Hood, but what else had happened along the way? And just how rifted had this family been?

"Besides," Dick went on, lowering his voice to almost a whisper, "For once … Jay was right. He had intel we didn't. We need to find out how he got it, and maybe find a way to keep this from happening again."

Kala nodded minutely, the image of the cooler of organs still vivid in her mind. One thing she'd learned for sure: the Bats didn't like to let bad things happen twice, and certainly not on _their_ watch.

An elbow poked her side, and Kala brought her attention back up to Dick. She hadn't realized she'd gone so introspective. "Sorry, Dick. Brain-fade. Go ahead."

"To answer your first question, though," he said with a conspiratorial half-smile, "he is. Jay can be pretty self-righteous when he wants to be. But I don't blame him; we all get that way sometimes."

Kala smirked knowingly. "Yeah, I think I might've noticed that. Must be a Bat thing, huh?"

They traded looks then before Dick nodded, still smiling. "Oh, yeah. Took us all a long time to realize it. But Jay's got … _special_ circumstances to account for his ego. It's been kind of a pain for the family to get past it."

That reminded her again, of how during her band's first tour, she had come out to Gotham to help her twin and Cassie keep Steph from hunting down this jackass, who'd come home and homicidal in a big way. Like a murdering-gangsters kinda way. "Special circumstances, huh? Why do I get the feeling this has something to do what what happened a few years ago? With Black Mask, even?"

"It's a little more complicated than that. But you'll have to ask him if you want the details," Dick replied, mirroring her posture. "Things have changed a little since back then. And the past isn't something we like to spread around."

Now _that_ had Kala hooked. As expected, the 'special circumstances' had damaged their family so badly that they couldn't even talk about it. She had never been privy to the details of the lockdown in Gotham; that said, you didn't have to be Batclan to know that Red Hood was the Robin that had disappeared. Beyond the most basic rumors, she didn't know more than Spoiler had told her that night and Jase had just barely told her anything. What he'd heard had to be pretty bad, considering the things she _did_ know about most of the Bats' family history by now. But then, her own family had been keeping their fair share of secrets, so maybe it wasn't something so unusual after all.

Dick continued with a humorless little smile, "But if you do ask him, be sure to watch out for the knife he'll try to stick in your ribs. He doesn't exactly like thinking about those days, himself."

Kala couldn't help a laugh. As if he'd even get half a chance, regardless of whatever his deep, dark secret was.

This was one of the things she was really starting to love about Dick, though; he could always find a way to make her see past the worst parts of the job. Though Hood's rebuke still burned, she couldn't stop the snicker that rose to her lips when she thought back over the confrontation. "You know, it's kinda sad. I would take his smart mouth a little more seriously if he hadn't taken a last look at chest level before he swung out. Lotta guts for a guy dressed like he thinks he's an extra in a 50s tough-guy film."

"At least I don't put all my goodies on display. Like _Dickie,_ here."

 _Holy God. …_ Kala barely suppressed a startle at the sudden voice in her comm, Red Hood sounding entirely too smug. She resisted the urge to throw the thing across the parking deck in a flare of irritation, only a deep breath in and a slow exhalation quelling the urge. Activating the unit in her ear to send, she gritted out, "How the hell did you get on this frequency?"

Dick only quirked an eyebrow at her as she responded to Jay's interruption; clearly, he wasn't getting the signal. Scowling, she took a moment to mouth, _Red Hood_.

"Had Oracle patch me through," Jay explained smoothly. "You'd be surprised what you can get done with a few incentives. Such as access to Black Mask's networks."

So she was right; he was doing this just to mess with her. He wanted her out of her comfort zone. Well, then, she had no intention of complying. Matching him tone for tone, she gave a snort of derision. "I'll bet. So lucky me, I guess this means I get to be your messenger girl. Oh, goody." Her narrowed eyes flicked to Dick. "You gonna get here any time soon? We've only been waiting, what, ten, twenty minutes?"

"So sorry to inconvenience you," he snickered nastily. "Coming around the corner now. Had to make a pit stop to beat up a little prick dealing meth."

With that, the connection cut out, a hiss of static momentarily bursting in her ear before she got her comm switched off, and the rumbling purr of what sounded like a very expensive bike caught her attention, growing louder in the Gotham night. Kala straightened from her place against the wall, Dick following suit as Tim and Bruce appeared out of their respective shadows— _always the shadows with those two,_ she mused absently—and the bike came roaring into the garage from the street, the steel security gate closing behind it. The sickly yellow light from the few functioning overheads reflected off of Hood's helmet in weak flashes as he gunned the engine and sped straight toward them, leaned down close over. the front wheel.

Kala simply crossed her arms over her chest and snorted. _Typical._

Red Hood didn't break off as he got closer, though, and for a brief second, Kala couldn't help the little spike of adrenaline that told her body to _fucking run._ It was only the rational part of her mind that got her to stand still in the bike's path, all the training she'd been through coupled with the certainty that Hood couldn't possibly be _that_ stupid … could he? No one could possibly be that suicidal; even not knowing who she was, she ran with the Bats. No, he was just trying to psych her out, make her sweat a little, haze the new girl. He had to be. He—

Thankfully, the rational part of her was rewarded when Jay and the bike—that looked like it'd lost a fight with Hob's Bay, all muddy and mucky—turned swiftly at the last moment to careen to their left, toward a broad metal door that rolled upward with a horrible grinding and screeching in protest at his approach. Cutting the engine, Jay brought the bike to a stop with a squeal of tires and a fishtail maneuver inside what appeared to be an inner-garage, a brightly-lit space whose light poured almost obscenely out into the dim parking deck.

Kala took the initiative to follow him inside first, the guys all close at her heels. As uneasy as Jay made her, she refused to give him ground, taking advantage of the situation to observe him now with keen eyes, even if it did feel weird for all of them to suddenly be standing in full light, still clad in all their best leather and armored finery. "I was right earlier," she observed smugly, stopping to prop a hand on her hip as the garage door groaned to a close behind them. "You really _are_ a motorcycle fetishist."

Hood just turned the blank face of his helmet at her as he dismounted the bike, and she got the distinct impression that he was grinning at her beneath the thing, like some sort of shark, all teeth and wild glee.

Which only made her want to put a fist through the helmet's gleaming red surface. And which, in the long run, probably wasn't a good idea.

But after a stare-down in which neither of them gave ground – _insufferable jackass_ – Jay reached up to undo the hidden clasps on the helmet and tug the damn thing off. He was wearing a red domino beneath it. _Jesus, he really is determined that no one know who he is. But considering his history in this town…_

"Maybe," he answered her at last, his too-blue eyes striking her with their intensity beneath mussed, raven-black hair that really shouldn't have surprised her, considering Bruce's track record with sidekicks who shared his coloring. "But I'm not the one that rubs his Ducati down with a diaper every night. Right, Timmy?"

Her gaze followed as all eyes turned to Tim, the youngest still hanging back, his arms crossed over his chest and sudden indignation on his face, completely unhidden beneath his own domino.

"Hey, I work hard to keep my bike in good condition. Not my fault yours looks like it's been run through the mud," Tim countered, sounding pretty calm for someone who'd landed in the hospital thanks to this asshole. "What is that, anyway, a _Honda?"_

All eyes volleyed back to Jay. "Are you nuts?" he bit out. "You don't even recognize a BMW HP2 when you see one? You're not the only Bat with resources, Baby Bird. And besides, I can't be held responsible for road conditions in this city," he spat back, swiping a patch of muck from the bike with his sleeve to reveal its logo.

Kala was sure she heard Bruce's teeth grind after the 'resources' comment, and made a mental note to follow up on that one, but she couldn't resist the snort of amusement that escaped her over the whole exchange. Shaking her head, she barely resisted a facepalm. Family rift? As dark as the history had to be, she was starting to get the impression that their rift these days wasn't much more than an overblown case of sibling rivalry.

"All right, enough," Bruce cut in at last, putting an end to the boys' bickering with a firm tone. "We don't have all night, Jason."

Jay just shrugged, replying, "Fine by me, I don't need to be insulted in my own place, anyway." And tugging off his white leather gloves—crap, they _did_ have blood all over them, Kala noted, realizing he hadn't been kidding about the meth dealer—Jay dropped them on a workbench against the back wall, next to his helmet. He typed a code into a panel beside a blank metal door that Kala hadn't noticed before, and gestured over his shoulder for them to follow him as a click sounded and the door swung open. "Come on, everything's downstairs."

Following, first again— _seriously, are they just herding me in front as a human shield or something?_ —Kala made her way down the stairs behind Jay. Somehow, on the trip down, her eyes found themselves wandering despite the best of intentions. It likely had to do with his comment earlier, the way he made himself sound like the be-all-end-all epitome of everything. And though she was loathe to admit it, stuck behind him and having to watch where she was going, it was a pretty nice view, which was ironic considering his prickly personality. Not as good as Dick's, but then, Jay had been all too right about Dick putting his goodies on display.

 _It's an intimidation tactic. He's going to feel me up with his eyes, I can go right back at him. Just because he's built like a giant doesn't mean I'm going to let him push me around,_ she thought coldly, scolding herself to focus on why they were here. If she wanted something gorgeous to eye, she had Dick. Dick, who had manners and a sense of humor that didn't rely on sneering at everyone else. In the twenty minutes she'd known Jason Todd, he'd shown himself to be a complete jackass, a show-off, and a presumptuous bastard. Nothing to change what she had assumed before tonight's little performance. And, to top it all off, he had intel they needed. Three strikes and an out before they had spoken a dozen words.

When she hit the bottom of the stairs, Kala's train of thought stuttered to a halt at the sight before her. The little basement was wall to wall computers, training equipment, and weaponry, each area complete with a tightly-focused overhead light. It was as if Jay had shrunk the Cave to fit into a fifteen-by-fifteen foot room. Hell, there was even a tiny area that looked like a med bay, wastebasket full of bloodied bandaged and all. And covering everything was the reek of menthol, tobacco, beer, blood, and entirely too much air freshener, as if he'd known he'd be having company, and didn't want to completely offend anyone's delicate sensibilities. Kala couldn't imagine someone raised in the same household with Alfred Pennyworth could live like this. The whole effect was just … strange, contradictory, and added another layer to the mystery of the family's rift.

Kala slid her incredulous gaze to the Bats to her right. She had been with them for over a month and there had never been a sign of this many contradictions in family ties. And just what the hell _was_ Jay's whole story, anyway? This night, and the whole family's dynamic, was starting to confuse her in way that made her want to strangle her brother for not explaining.

…

Shucking his jacket, Jay tossed it over the back of a chair and headed to his main workstation, a bank of three networked systems and six monitors. It wasn't much, compared to Daddy Bat's setup back in the Cave, but it got him through, sure as hell got him intel that they hadn't been able to get at, even with Babs' connections. Part of him hated letting them meet him here, in his own base of operations, but they _had_ to know where he lived these days. With their resources, they would've tracked him down as easily as Babs had. Besides, they wouldn't screw around with anything, they had to know the place would be more booby-trapped than the Manor. And too, he knew where they all lived.

"Well?" Dick prompted him impatiently from behind, moving close enough to be breathing down his neck.

Jay tossed a dark look over his shoulder. "Hold your fucking horses, Dickie." A quick glance at the rest of them found Bruce scowling, as usual, the new girl scrutinizing Jay's armory with a look that could very well have meant she was scanning it with some Kryptonian bullshit x-rays or something, and Timmy looking way too closely at one of Jay's works-in-progress. "And don't touch anything. I've got sensitive equipment in here," he spat, covering his bases.

Turning back to his workstation, Jay pulled up all the pertinent files with a few clicks and passwords, keeping an eye trained on Dick to make sure the Golden Boy wouldn't gank those passwords. He'd change them after they all left, just in case, anyway.

"Voila," he said, transferring everything to a flash drive—no encrypted emails for stuff this sensitive, no way. "Almost everything you ever wanted to know about Black Mask and his operations. Client lists, employee manifests including the 'medical staff' that did the dirty work, delivery schedule, the works." A quick tug and a flick of his wrist, and he tossed the drive at Dick over his shoulder.

Dick caught it with a fist, and frowned again as Bruce spoke up from the little shadow he'd managed to find, voicing what was probably on all their minds, "If you had all this, why didn't you stop it from happening sooner? Why didn't you come to us?"

Jason shook his head, standing from the workstation. "I didn't have most of the pieces until today. And they'd already finished their harvesting by the time I got the warehouse address. There's a lot I still wasn't able to get, too. A few missing pieces of intel that I still need, so I can take the fucker down for good. Shit that'll make charges stick for real."

He could practically see Bruce's eyebrow raising behind his cowl, all skeptical disbelief. "How did you get all this, anyway?"

For a moment, Jay considered giving him a cryptic answer, and he crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow in return. But what the hell good would it do to hold back? Especially after he'd promised Babs he would play nice. "I found a man on the inside," he finally admitted. "Tracked him down when I found out Mask was behind the disappearances and threatened to slit him ear to ear if he didn't start talking. Though I think he still held some of it back. Might be a separate system, I don't know about for sure."

"He just gave you an in to Mask's networks without putting up a fight?" Dick asked. "Doubtful."

Jay couldn't resist flashing a quirk of a grin at him. "What part of 'Columbian necktie' don't you understand? You think I just said 'pretty please' and he coughed it up? You really don't know me, do you?" The injuries he'd inflicted wouldn't be immediately visible, since he wanted to keep his new informant inside Mask's organization, and looking like he'd been beat to shit would make it obvious the man was compromised. Still, Jay knew plenty of ways to hurt someone that didn't leave such obvious marks.

A quick glance around, and he caught Kryptonian Barbie grimacing at the mental image, her little black domino not doing much to hide her disgust. Man, was she gonna have to toughen up; a girl that naïve wouldn't last too long around here, related to Big Blue or not.

But Bruce put the brakes on Jay's fun with another inane question, stepping into the circle of one of the overhead lamps and crossing his own arms over his chest. "What about the disappearances? How did you connect them?"

Jason just rolled his eyes. "Why else would hookers, transients, and runaways suddenly start to disappear? The only answer was that they were being kidnapped. And as all of our usual kidnappers are either in Arkham or Blackgate at the moment, it either had to be some new serial killer, or someone looking to take something that wouldn't be missed, for some other intrinsic value than to provide entertainment or satisfy a blood-lust. I've been living undercover on the street for months, getting real names of the missing and any gossip on the disappearances I could scrounge. Finally tumbled to a decent lead on the actual kidnappers, got Babs to run it for me, and when it ran back to Mask, I knew who to chase down. The guy folded pretty damn quick when he realized who had him."

At Bruce's darkly introspective look, Jay added, "I take it you had another theory?"

"We were following a few leads," Dick piped up, his way of saying they had absolutely nothing. "There were signs that pointed to Victor Zsasz—"

"Who's been in Arkham for the last three years," Jay cut him off.

Dick reached up to rub at the back of his neck, looking more sheepish than Jay remembered him ever looking. "Yeah … well, we thought he might've had an apprentice, so. …"

Jay shook his head and pursed his lips, cutting his gaze over to the new girl. "You believe this crap? Please tell me you weren't in on this investigation."

New girl took a long moment to turn to face him, her eyes cool when they met his. She merely raised an eyebrow at him, much like before, and gave another soft snort of amusement. "So now you're trying to make me your sounding board? _After_ you try to run me down?" she retorted drolly. "Cute. Don't drag me into this. I just came along to make the take-down look good. Shame someone stole the show on debut night." Her gaze flicked over to Dick and Bruce for a moment, her lips quirking up in a brief smile before she speared him with her gaze again, the smile gone, as if it'd never been there. "But that seems to be your modus operandi in most situations from what I've seen, Mr. Hood. Seems like you have a desperate need for attention. Glad we could oblige."

"Yeah, well, I like to make an entrance," he countered, smirking darkly.

Again that sardonic smile. "Obviously. The last thing you could call that was subtle. Good thing we weren't trying for it."

Bruce merely shook his head in the midst of their verbal sparring and gestured to Dick and Tim. "Time to go. We've got everything we need here."

"Aw, but you all just got here," Jay whined with a mock-pout and a slight head-tilt. Having them all in his space was honestly making him twitch, but he wouldn't let them see it.

Dick huffed at him as he moved past to get to the stairs, Tim glaring openly as he followed behind. Another withering glance from the girl as she rose from where she had been leaned against the wall and started after the boys. "And it's such a shame to be leaving," she tossed over her shoulder in clipped tones.

"Go on," Bruce said lightly to them, "I'll catch up in a moment."

With that, Jason set his jaw, tightening his arms over his chest defensively. So much for a fun ending to his night. He'd saved the damn day, had delivered an information gold mine, and had managed to play nice, not even shedding any unnecessary blood, so of course Bruce couldn't let him get away with _that._ He'd just have to steel himself for whatever crap lecture Daddy Bats was about to lay on him.

But he couldn't let the new girl get away without a last glance. Catching her eye as she moved to follow the others up the stairs, he grinned again. "Later, Supergirl."

The irate look that she aimed over her shoulder at him for that was fucking priceless.

…

His final potshot had floored her, the click of her boot-heels loud as she stalked forward, furious that he had identified her. Jason Todd was a dead man. She'd been pretty damn good about keeping her identity secret for years before she had even come here. And he had made her, without help, within a half-hour of seeing her. Even with the damn domino on! There should have been nothing to indicate that she was a Super. And she sure as hell wasn't trying to advertise who she was, by action or costume. Sure, she'd been training with the Bats and Birds for weeks, but this was her first patrol with Bruce and the boys. Hardly enough time for word to spread and assumptions to be made. _Nobody_ knew the Blur was Kryptonian.

Keeping the secret was the top priority, and it just didn't sit well with her that the jerk knew anything about her, doubly so when it was clear Uncle Bruce hadn't passed it on. The pompous ass was just trying to piss her off and he'd succeeded. In spades.

The boys had continued ahead toward the vehicles while she slowed to try to get her calm restored. It had yet to work. Damn him for getting under her skin like that on the one night she had been determined to prove herself to the rest of them. She just couldn't catch a damn break tonight.

"— _doesn't have to be like this, Jason."_

Startled, Kala froze beneath the open inner-garage door. She hadn't realized that her hearing had keyed up even that much when her rage got the better of her control. Her brow furrowing, her innate curiosity reared its head against her will, and she found herself lingering. _I don't think I've ever heard Bruce sound like that. 'Doesn't have to be like' what?_ She didn't need to hear this. Didn't want to hear it. But with a mystery right in front of her, she couldn't make herself turn away. Especially if it would improve her opinion of the creep.

" _Like what, Bruce?"_

Another surprise. For some reason, Jay sounded a lot less arrogant without the others around, and the prospect of there being some other side to him than the smirking, full-of-himself asshole caught her interest.

" _This … this place. This life. You don't have to do all this on your own."_

Kala was certain she heard Jay shuffling his feet, and could almost imagine the petulant look on his face, an amusing, if sad, thought.

" _What is this, an intervention?"_

" _No, just observation. You're the one staying away, Jason. You … don't have to anymore."_

There was a long pause and it was pretty obvious that this was a difficult conversation for them to be having. She couldn't help the way her conscience ate at her for listening in. Trying to figure Jay out or not, this was eavesdropping, pure and simple. And she really was fishing for bombs to lob. It wasn't right, immature asshat or not. _Dad would kill me for this._ _This is totally none of my business and I shouldn't be sinking to his level_.

The abrupt starting of an engine drowned everything out then, the intensity of the sound startling her and refocusing her hearing instantly before she had the chance. Kala shook herself, uprooting herself from the spot and trying to not look guilty. _Saved by the bell,_ she mused, realizing Dick had started up his bike.

Glancing back the way she'd come, she turned back to find Bruce already up from the basement and heading out.

"Don't dally," he warned her with a tight expression as he breezed past.

"Yes, sir. I'll be right behind you." But Kala was beyond dallying at this point. She still had a score to settle with Hood, regardless of the strained conversation she didn't mean to overhear. Whirling, she caught him as he emerged from the stairwell, and strode back to him, an index finger leading the way to land on his chest with a firm poke. Just a little reminder that she _did_ have strength enough to bypass body armor.

"I want to know _exactly_ who are you getting information from," she started, practically hissing between her teeth. "Because I find it very unlikely that Bruce is the one that did it since it looks like it's been a bit since you last spoke. You might just be an urban legend in Gotham, but that doesn't impress me at all. Who told you who I was?"

Jay lifted one corner of his mouth at her, just barely, and leaned into her space. "After what you saw down there, you don't think I have the resources to know just who's hanging around Gotham with my brothers and Daddy Bats?"

Her gaze never faltered. _Give me a break. What are we, five? Are we gonna get in a shoving match next?_ Returning his flash of grin, she leaned in just as close. "Oh, yeah, because your dad and brothers can't take care of themselves, and need someone watching over their shoulders twenty-four seven. And you're just the man for the job, I'm sure, considering the history there." It was a low blow, one she normally wouldn't stoop to, but she was too angry to stop herself.

The smug expression on Jay's face only flickered for a half-second, but that was all that Kala needed to see the doubt there, even as he went on, "Well, _excuse me_ for keeping tabs. There's a new chick in town running with the Bats, you think I'm not gonna follow up on that? And I had info that you all _didn't._ So, tell me again where _I'm_ the one out of line?"

Kala scowled at him. The aggravation that had started with his spraying bullets in the alleyway just over-flowed. "You're a completely insufferable prick, that's where you're out of line. Where the hell do you get off treating me like some green-as-hell rookie? You don't know a damn thing about me beyond maybe a name and a guess, but you seem to think you can just leap in and—"

"And what? Steal your thunder?" he cut her off, another smirk threatening to break out over his face. "You think this is a stage show? A couple bright lights, a good beat, and you get to mop up all the credit? Just like your day job, huh?"

With that, Kala had had just about enough of Jay's crap and she brought up her hands to shove him against the wall next to the open basement door. "You know what? You can go to hell," she growled, gritting her teeth. "I've been training for a month and a half with barely a sunbath for tonight. To finally get out there and do something worthwhile in this hellhole. You ruined that with your little _Expendables_ routine, which wasn't even _necessary_ , so how _dare_ you _presume_ to know anything about me."

Jay's face grew thunderous at that, and Kala was about to go on when he reached up and shoved her back in retaliation. _Dammit! Looks like I was right about the shoving match, after all._

"You are so far out of your depth in this city, kiddo, you have no fucking idea. You know what happens to girls like you, little girls who think being a singer means something around capes? Who think that because their daddies are somebody, they can do anything they want? They get raped, tortured, murdered, and tossed in a dumpster with yesterday's trash. Or they get drilled in the skull and left for dead. And that's if you're lucky. If not, somebody takes a crowbar to you until you can't even see because your eyes are all full of blood, and you're relieved when your skull finally caves in, because you don't have to take it anymore. Or somebody kidnaps you and cuts out all your _vital fucking organs_ to sell and drops your remains in the fucking Gotham Harbor!" he finally finished, an arm flung out to point in the direction of the bay as he breathed heavily through his nostrils.

This … had not been what she had been expecting. For a moment, Kala reeled at the venom in his voice. No, not venom … more like grief. Like he was talking from experience. Dear God, what had he _seen_ in this city?

But Jay's posture wasn't at all about grief. He was spoiling for a fight. Like he wanted to prove that Kala had no business playing in the big bad city.

And that would just not stand, although she felt just a little less sure of her position after his rant. There was a lot more going on here that Dick hadn't explained, that no one had feel the need to fill her in on, and she was going to get the answers the minute the Manor calmed for the night. One way or another, whether Dick liked it or not.

Chin tilted up and a hand going to her hips, she shot back, "You can back off the horror stories and back the fuck off my day job. What I do when I'm not in uniform is none of your or anybody else's business. I'm not exactly your average girl, as you've already _blatantly_ pointed out. There's very little chance of any of those things happening to _me,_ but just maybe I might be able to keep that from happening to someone else. Did you ever think of that? Yeah, so my Dad's Superman. So what? That makes me less capable of handling this? If anything, it brings more resources to the table. So _back off._ Or bring it on and let's get this over with."

A flicker of rage passed over Jay's face, and his mouth twisted like he was about to throw back a few more choice comments, but then he backed off, turning away from her to grab a rag from the workbench and start wiping down his bike. "Your ride's about to leave you, _Princess."_

And that wasn't at all what Kala had been expecting. No more snide remarks, no more shows of force or vivid descriptions of life and death in Gotham, just a bitter observation and final barb. Frustrated, she forced down the urge to yank him around and get him to finish this, but a shout from out in the parking deck cut off her.

"Blur, let's go!" Tim shouted, gunning the engine of his Ducati as he brought it around in front of the open garage door.

A last scowl at Jay, and Kala called back in a tone that was just slightly touched with hurt irritation, "Not that I give a damn what you think or whether or not you approve, this isn't a _game_ to me. I have reasons for what I'm doing right now. And you can be sure that this isn't over, Hood," before jogging out to hop on the back of Tim's bike.

As they sped away to head back to the Manor for the night, she heard Jay toss down the rag and say to the empty garage, _"You're right, kid; it's not."_ Vowing to find answers to what the hell his problem with her was, she only hoped this stupid pissing contest she seemed to have gotten into wouldn't drag out. The whole encounter left her feeling shaken-up and confused and a little defeated.

Training in Gotham was supposed to have been an antidote from her real life, dammit. Not a whole new headache. At least, not _this_ kind of headache.

She was silent on the back of Tim's bike for a long moment, turning the entire encounter over in her head. Something was really strange about Hood's reactions to her, some of the things he'd said leaving her uneasy. Remembering the way Tim had bristled when Jay spoke to him, staying mostly out of the entire conversation, Kala started to smile. There was some serious tension between the youngest and the middle child. Maybe it would be better to ask Tim her questions.

…

As soon as his brothers' bikes cleared his exterior monitors, six blocks and change away from his building, Jay shut off his systems for the night and sat back heavily in his chair, his mind spinning with shit he'd rather not think about. Maybe he shouldn't have baited the pretty princess so damn hard. Here he'd been, thinking it'd be one hell of a game of cat and mouse; bat at his prey a little, give chase, let her think she had the upper hand, pounce, the usual. But fuck if she hadn't hit him right where he lived. Damn her. How the hell she managed to turn it all back on him was beyond fathom; just what the fuck nerve had he struck to get her to do that, anyway?

Maybe it was crack about her day job. Shit, that'd been over the line, even for _him._ Not that he cared; considering where the kid came from, she didn't need any ego boosting.

But whatever. Fuck it. It just wasn't gonna be much fun playing with Kryptonian Barbie if she was gonna play dirty because she couldn't take a little reality check. It wasn't fucking worth letting her drag all his past crap up, even if she didn't have a damn clue. He hadn't meant to let his _own_ story get dragged up in the litany of bad shit that went down in Gotham. There were enough horror stories around, he could tell them for days without ever touching on his own. But for some stupid-ass reason he'd barfed up the words to someone he knew next to nothing about.

Maybe it was those kids back in the Bowery. Supergirl here had no damn idea what life was like for them. She'd never in a million years think the way Carl did. The way Carl _had_ to. The new girl had never had to choose survival over dignity or safety or anything else. She had no right to swan into Gotham like she was gonna _fix it_ with a little dash of Super-optimism.

And Bruce was probably gonna give him all kinds of shit later for tonight's mess, to top it all off. The _last_ thing he needed was Daddy Bats going all protective over Superman's baby girl, too.

Then again…

Bruce _had_ given him an open invitation, even if Jay knew it'd really been at Alfred's request. Maybe he would pop over around lunchtime tomorrow or the day after, hang around to hand the new girl her ass on the training mats, see what she was made of. If she thought her fucking _special abilities_ were gonna save her, she had another fucking thing coming.

There was no mercy in Gotham, and no threat of the World's Finest Daddies was gonna keep him from teaching the pretty princess a lesson or two in humility. _Somebody_ fucking had to.

Shoving himself out of the chair to head up to his little apartment on the thirty-fifth floor above him, Jay focused on round two. It'd be so sweet to give her a little taste of what Gotham's streets really had to offer.

If only he could convince himself that that was the only reason he wanted to punch her face in.


	12. Quicksand's Got No Sense of Humor

**Authors' Notes:** Welcome back! This is a dialogue-heavy chapter, but don't worry, there'll be action enough in the next one. Our current posting schedule is fairly quick, because most of these chapters were written years ago and just need to be polished before posting. That said, later on we'll be doing more additions and tweaking what we have, so enjoy the fast updates while they last.

Thank you all for reading. The hit counts are very nice, and the reviews are lovely. It's nice to come back to this fandom and find some of our old friends again.

By the way, the hurricane is aimed mostly north of us. We should be fine, for this one anyway. We live in Florida, we're always stocked up on nonperishables, water, flashlights, and other storm essentials. Please keep the Carolinas in your prayers, I hear the flooding is already bad up that way.

And now, on to the chapter.

* * *

Kala should've known it wouldn't be that easy.

Returning to the Roost that night, the first thing Bruce said to Kala was, "Red Hood is not your concern." The clipped tone brought her up short, her eyes widening, but he continued and addressed the boys as well. "His case and ours are connected, which means we'll be working alongside him. I know Oracle has been working with him up until now. The last piece didn't fall into place until we were already deployed, so there was no time to rendezvous with him. But I have no intention of trying to take this one away from him."

"'Cause he'd try to shoot all of us if we did?" Dick scoffed, crossing his arms.

"Because exploited children are of particular offense to him," Bruce replied, in colder tones than he usually used with Dick. Then he looked at Tim, asking, "Will that be a problem?"

Tim shifted his weight, but answered levelly, "Not on my part."

The part about kids fit with what Jay had said to Kala, and Tim's reaction wasn't what she'd expected given the history. Now her curiosity was eating her alive. There _had_ to be more to this. Bruce only said, "Black Mask will be trying again. We're going to step up patrols, see if we can stop his kidnapping teams in the act, while trying to track down the facility where the victims are being held and the surgeries are being done. It wasn't that warehouse, tonight – that was just a transfer point. I'll keep you all briefed."

On that note, he turned and vanished into the shadows of the cave, leaving the boys grumbling and Kala intrigued. She took care of business, first; upstairs for a shower, then the kitchen for a snack, before finally knocking on Tim's door. "It's unlocked," he called.

Of course, he was at his computer. "Hey, Tim, got a minute?" she asked.

"Not if you want to pick my brain about Jay," he said shortly.

That should have been expected; she hadn't exactly been subtle and Tim was ultra-concentrated levels of perceptive. Kala sighed and leaned against the door, puzzling over Robins and Batclan family dynamics. "Sore subject?"

"About as sore as my leg, ribs, and collarbone were, for the next five weeks," he replied. But he did turn around and look at her. There was that torn look again. "Kala … there's a lot you don't know about. A lot you probably _shouldn't_ know about. Some of our rogues are crazy-dangerous, and some of them are just crazy, but the worst ones are very smart, very controlled … and very, very dangerous. The business with Jay ties into those."

"Joker?" Kala asked softly.

Tim shook his head. "No, Joker's in the crazy-dangerous category. That's who killed him. Or almost killed him – he would've been functionally dead, even if still breathing, and that would've been a tragedy on its own. What happened _after_ that, what Bruce found out since he resurfaced … that's worse than Joker." He paused, then added, "Hmm. He might not see it that way."

Kala sighed and raked her hands through her hair. The mysterious middle brother was still a cipher. "If you won't tell me what happened to him, which I absolutely get, for the record, at least tell me why you're willing to work with him. I just don't get it, Timmy. If he'd kicked my ass full-bore into the hospital, I damn sure wouldn't be as calm as you are. Hell, the last thing I'd be is any form of _calm._ "

Chuckling softly, Tim shook his head. "Because I can't totally blame him? It's mostly things we guessed about later. He wasn't in his right mind, _at all,_ and from his point of view, yeah, it looks like I stole his place. The thing is … Batman _needs_ a Robin. He doesn't…" His expression shut down, and he sighed. "Kala, it's not something we talk about amongst _ourselves_ most of the time, and we're _living_ it."

"So you forgive him?" Kala asked dubiously.

Tim snorted. "I don't know about _that_. I don't trust him further than I could throw him, that's for sure. But the last few months he's been in town, he's been more like he used to be. Like the Robin I wanted so badly to become. Him and Dick, I idolized them both. Now I know Dick, and he's one of my closest friends. I know _about_ Jay, enough that I can't blame him for hating me, but it's not the same. It'll never be the same."

A long pause, and he stretched his back, glancing at the computer. "I don't need revenge. That'd be pointless. And Bruce is right. There are kids – runaways, homeless kids, kids from poor families or broken homes – going missing. One thing that's always been true of Jay, he can't turn his back on children in need." He laughed, but there was little humor in it. "Also he's too damn good at this. Better for everyone, especially the people Black Mask is kidnapping, if we work with him rather than against him."

Kala frowned. Tim was on a different level, she knew that. One of the reasons he was the leader of the Titans was his cool-headed practicality. But _this_? She couldn't wrap her head around it. "He put you in the _hospital_ , Tim. He tried to kill you!"

"No," Tim told her gravely. "I was the equal of the Robin he was, but he'd trained more and differently when we met. He was, and is, lethal in ways that I'm simply _not_. If he'd wanted to kill me, I'd be dead. No, he just wanted to beat the hell out of me for stealing his place at Bruce's side. It's _all_ about Bruce. Bruce is the one he wanted to destroy – making Bruce kill Joker would've done that. I was just in his way." A thoughtful pause, and he added, "If I hadn't been in a cast, I would've tried to intervene that night. Maybe sidelining me was part of his motive, too."

Kala gave a shudder. No, that was entirely too logical for her taste. She'd wanted to put a fist through Red Hood before she ever met him, just on Tim's behalf. He _was_ Jason's best friend among the capes, which meant he was hers to protect just like her brother. Jay's remarks to her tonight had gotten her hackles up, too, and the man hadn't done more than shove her. How was she so eager to smack him, and Tim who had actually suffered the beating was calm about it?

She moved forward, resting one hand on Tim's shoulder, and kissed the top of his head. "You're a good man, Tim," Kala told him.

He squeezed her hand and smiled at her as she left.

…

Babs answered her secure line, and the first words she heard were, "What the _fuck_ is this shit?!"

"Look, Hood, the cookies are in the mail," she told him, trying to keep the laughter from her voice. She'd been expecting this, given the confrontation she'd overhead. Dick had also called her, warning her that Kala and Jay had crossed paths with some significant sparks of temper, but she expected that they would eventually. It wasn't in Kala's nature to ignore a mystery, and it wasn't in Jay's nature to ignore a new cape in town. Having met her, he would just stew about it until his temper red-lined, then once he was properly furious he'd find someone to take it out on. And unlike Bruce, Babs wouldn't hang up on him, so she knew he'd call her.

"I'm not worried about the goddamn cookies, why the everlovin' _fuck_ is _Supergirl_ out here in street clothes playing with Black Mask?!" Jay snarled, proving her suppositions right. "I thought you guys were keeping her on kiddie patrol with the Birds, and now here she is bouncing around like a target with the Bats!"

"Black Mask wasn't there, it was only a handful of his lower-level men," Babs corrected, choosing a soothing tone she knew would infuriate him more. Jay had to be boiling over before he'd get anywhere near giving her some useful insight.

"Yeah, and no one – not even the all-knowing _Oracle –_ realized they were moving body parts instead of drugs! So he _could've_ been there, and the last goddamn thing I need is a newbie Super getting her ass killed in the middle of my case! I got a whole pack of fuckin' kids I gotta worry about back in the Bowery, I damn sure don't need to worry about Superman's fuckin' baby girl dancing around in the line of fire too! Fuckin' Bruce the goddamn Father of the Fuckin' Year has her out there playing fucking _point_ when he won't even put Timmy out front!"

"She's still mostly invulnerable," Babs told him, and added, " _You_ were the one who started shooting, anyway."

"Oh fuck you," he growled. "I can fuckin' aim, these asswipes can't."

"Point is her natural position, given her powers," Babs told him.

"And powers don't mean _shit_ when any one of those pricks could've been packing kryptonite," he shot back. "No fuckin' way is she trained up. Bruce was in a hurry with _me_ and I didn't hit the streets for six months; her ass is still so green fuckin' Poison Ivy might try to take her in!"

Babs just sat back and let the rest of it roll over her, as he worked himself into a frothing rage. All the typical objections, some of which were her own, and Babs let Jay talk until he ran out of words.

"What do you want me to do about it?" she asked him, gently.

"Get her off my fuckin' streets until she's trained," he spat. " _Duh_. Some fuckin' genius-level intellect there, Babs."

"You don't know her," Babs told him. "You only read her file. I think you're drastically misreading her – and unlike you, I've worked with her."

He sighed so loudly and so angrily that her earpiece hissed with static. " _Fuck_. All you fuckin' smartass fucks think you know best. I swear to God, Babs, when she gets killed and her daddy burns down half the city, I'm gonna head back to the fuckin' Balkans for a year. Right after I blow up enough buildings downtown to spell out 'I TOLD YOU SO' in all caps."

"You are underestimating her," Babs said, again, hardening her voice a little for emphasis. "And being _extremely_ melodramatic about it." She considered asking him if it was _that_ time of the month, but he wouldn't appreciate sexist humor even if it came from a woman.

"Kiss my ass," he snapped.

And now, when he'd wound down to middle school insults, Babs sprang the trap he'd laid for himself in the first few minutes of their conversation. "Kala is being supervised. But you're really worried about the kids you were living with. How can I help? I'm not from the Bowery, I don't know what would be useful to them, but _you_ know. And I have connections."

A long pause, and then he swore at her in what sounded like three or four different languages, ending with, "… too ever-fucking smart for you own goddamned good!"

Babs just smiled. "That's why all of you keep me around, you know. Now talk. Tell me how I can help those kids."

By her reckoning, that was half of his problem with Kala. He'd bonded with those homeless kids, and wanted to protect them, but the best use of his talents lay in confronting Black Mask, not standing back and playing bodyguard. Not being able to shield them somehow got transmuted into outrage over someone he saw as half-trained being turned loose in the field.

What he'd said about Superman had sent a cold chill up Babs' spine, though. Not that she was worried about Clark; even in defense of his family, his self-control was excellent. But Babs had the Nevada Protocol on her mind, and Gotham in flames _was_ one of its potential scenarios.

…

It was _much_ too early for Lois' phone to be ringing. "Lane," she growled as she answered it. Beside her, Bagel snored deeply, lips flapping on the exhale. She was fifteen now, her muzzle snow white, and her hearing almost gone. The younger dog, Chewie, lay at Lois' feet, awake and watching her owner with bright eyes. The two beagles had beds of their own in the room, but somehow they kept ending up in the master bed. And as was only proper, Bagel as the elder took the best spot. Besides, she had earned the gold-plated 'Bagel the Brave' tag on her collar by biting Luthor's spy within the family. When it came down to it, even the sweet and gentle beagle had defended her family from an interloper with a gun. Lois patted her head gently to stop her snoring, and got a bleary look and happy wag.

"Hi Momma," her daughter said, and Lois sat up in bed with a groan. The windows were just getting light, which meant Kal-El was up and on morning rounds. And that explained why the dogs weren't whining to be fed and let out. "God, is that Bagel snoring?" Kala asked, chortling.

"Yeah, she's getting ridiculous," Lois replied, as Bagel smacked her lips and yawned hugely. The little dog got up, turned around in a circle, and flopped down again, asleep within seconds. Lois watched her with droll amusement, shaking her head. "But the vet says there's nothing wrong with her, she just sleeps a lot deeper. So, what's on your mind, honey? I know you didn't call at this hour because the dog was snoring, though. Even if you _can_ probably hear her in Gotham."

Kala sounded chagrined. "Sorry to wake you, but I wanted to ask you something before I head to bed."

Bed? At this hour? Dear God, what kind of madness was Bruce introducing to her child? "Jeez, they've gone and turned you nocturnal," Lois muttered, rubbing at her face. Anyone else would've gotten a dial tone this early, but this was Kala. And the most independent of her children rarely called to ask for anything. "Ask away, but remember you're getting your answer pre-caffeination."

"I love you, I'm sorry," Kala said, then popped the question. "What do you know about Jason Todd?"

And oh shit, that was enough of a jolt to wake her right up, even better than a cup of newsroom brew. Bruce's middle boy was back in Gotham, she knew that, but he'd been laying low and Lois' sources told her he was contained. Not a threat to his own family anymore, and not a threat to her daughter. Otherwise she would've put the kibosh on this summer training thing, and never mind what anyone else thought. Diana of Themyscira owed her a favor, she could get Kala training with the Amazons instead of in Gotham.

But all she said, in a voice trying not to sound as cagey as she felt, was, "Why do you ask?"

Kala sighed noisily in her ear. " _Mom._ The answering-a-question-with-a-question thing is not cool. I went out with the whole family earlier – last night, I guess, from where you're sitting – and we bumped into him. Turns out what we thought were two cases were actually the same one, and he's been working the other half of it."

"What kind of case?" Lois asked instantly, journalistic instincts leaping to the fore.

" _Mother_ ," Kala chided. "I can't, you know that. But … it's ugly."

Something in her voice, some trace of horror and dismay, made Lois want to get dressed, drive to Gotham, and drag her home by main force. It had been a niggling worry sitting in the back of her brain ever since Kala had first brought up the topic to her father, but she clamped down on that impulse; not only would Kala never forgive her, there was no way she could ever shelter them both from all the ugliness in the world. Lois had known that for years, though she still struggled with it. Both Kala and Jason had felt the call in their own time, in their own ways; they were their father's children. The best she could do was give them tools to fight it – and the light that both her twins carried in their hearts and minds, Kal-El's legacy, was the best weapon of all against this kind of darkness. Hadn't they fought Luthor _and_ Zod, and won not because of powers or plans, but because they all loved each other too much to ever let each other down?

So Lois took a deep breath, resettled herself, and sighed. What would be, would be, and there was very little she could do to stop it now. They had to make their own way. "I know, baby girl. So you met Red Hood. How'd that go?"

"Well, he only shot one person, and that was one of the bad guys who was reaching for a weapon," Kala said, too lightly for Lois' taste. "Aunt Maggie would have a _fit_ , though, the way he's willing to spray bullets all over the place. Anyway, he handed over his intel, and according to Bruce we're all working the same case now, so we can stop what happened last night from happening again to someone else."

"Okay, sounds good so far," Lois said cautiously. "It was information that you needed, right?"

"Yeah, but he's a _dick_ ," Kala continued, a little snarl in her voice. "He knows who I am, and made sure I know it. Even gave me some shit about the day job, with a side note about how I'm too Super for a dark, gritty town like Gotham. Apparently he's another one who thinks I'm just a dabbler, and in _his_ big bad city, that'll get a little girl like me killed."

Did she even hear the grinding anger in her own voice? Lois did, and her keen reporter's mind raced to get ahead of her daughter's outrage. "Well he sure as hell doesn't know you, does he?" Lois replied with a bark of laughter. "You could carve him up and serve him his own over-inflated ego for breakfast if you wanted. Lucky for him, being a Super means trying _not_ to be the biggest asshole around."

Kala laughed, and it was music to her mother's ears. "Yeah, we at least try. So, I'm trying to sort out how a guy who was Robin became a guy who had most of Gotham's gangsters running scared, and is now a guy who apparently Hulks out when kids are in trouble. Got any leads?"

Lois managed a chuckle despite the frost in her heart. She remembered all too well how it had felt to hear about Jason Todd's death. The look on her husband's face after he'd put down the phone still haunted her, the way he'd taken so much time with the twins after. Bruce's Jason was only a couple years older than the twins, after all. And knowing that he'd died, that a madman had beaten him bloody before blowing up the building around him, that had made her want to cuddle her own kids close and never, ever let them join the superhero community. It was too goddamned _dangerous_ out there.

But then, all the careful protection in the world hadn't kept Kala from being snatched up by Luthor, and just thinking about what her baby girl had gone through still made Lois' temper flare white-hot. _Give me one chance,_ she whispered to whatever gods or fates there were. _One moment with that bastard Luthor clear in my sights, and I'll make sure he never hurts anyone again. To hell with it all, Kal-El knows I'd kill him in an instant, even Maggie would admit I have cause._

Lois throttled that down bitterly. "Well, honey, I didn't know him personally," she admitted. "All I've got is the bare bones of the story. Dick wasn't Robin at the time – he quit or Bruce fired him, depending on who you ask. And Bruce left the car parked in the wrong neighborhood one night, came back to find some kid stealing the tires off the _Batmobile_. That kid was Jason Todd."

"Dayyyyum," Kala said, drawing the word out in surprise. "That took some _huevos_."

"Yeah, it did. Impressed your uncle pretty well, too, enough so that he took the boy in and trained him as Robin. He was an orphan, or so he thought. Turned out the woman who raised him wasn't his birth mother, and when he was about sixteen he tried to find her." Lois paused then, her throat tight. She'd been extremely lucky in her own mother, and had _tried_ to be a good mother to Kala, too. She couldn't imagine what the boy had gone through, finding that out, and then trying desperately to find a mom he'd never met.

She cleared her throat and continued. "Finding her … led him right to Joker. And _that_ sonofabitch, I want you to stay way the hell away from. Luthor is slime, I'd be more than happy to scrape him off my shoes with a bullet, but he doesn't scare me. What he could do to you and your brother and your dad, that scares me, but he personally doesn't scare me. He did his worst and I'm still here. Minus a kidney, but hey, who's counting?"

"I love you, Momma," Kala said in a small voice. Nevada still haunted her, too, and Lois knew it.

"I love you, too," Lois told her softly. "Joker scares the _shit_ outta me, and I've never been face to face with him. As for Jason Todd … everyone thought he was dead, that Joker killed him. Until he turned back up in Gotham and put Tim in the hospital. No one's ever given me the story on how _that_ happened, and believe me, I've gone looking."

"He's angry," Kala said in low, thoughtful tones. "He acts like he's angry at everyone and everything, but I think he's mostly mad at Bruce. And I want to know why. I want to know why he thinks he can try to scare _me_ out of Gotham. Mom, do you know what went down between him and Bruce, at the end?"

Lois knew more than she'd admitted so far, but she didn't like the speculative note in her daughter's voice. Jason Todd had been a kid whom Kal-El had liked, but then, he liked all of Bruce's kids. All kids everywhere, pretty much, but he had a connection to the kids in capes. Red Hood, however, was a man she rather wanted Kala to stay away from. The whispers she'd heard indicated he was far from mentally stable. Not to mention, a killer – but hadn't she just vowed mere moments ago to kill Luthor, if she could?

If she told Kala to avoid him, though, her daughter would go and kick his ass just to be difficult. That was why they called her Lois Lane 2.0, after all. So Lois only sighed. "Baby girl, I'm not the authority on this one. But you're the child of two reporters, one of whom has a Pulitzer on the wall to prove her chops. If you want to know, you can figure it out."

" _Mom_ ," Kala laughed again, and Lois hoped she'd done the right thing.

…

Scraps of information, but no solid leads, and Kala had to turn to the one person who was a goldmine of info. She hadn't wanted to ask Babs, knowing how keen her mind was. It'd just lead to more questions that Kala herself didn't want to answer.

But none of them were talking, so she headed over to the Clock Tower after breakfast the next day, first making certain that Babs had free time. The redhead smirked at her as she walked in. "Here to grill me about Hood?" she asked, her voice gently teasing.

"Well _fuck_ ," Kala said, and dropped into a chair laughing. She'd gone so far as to bring coffee and pastries as a bribe, and just set them down on the table between them. "How'd you guess?"

"He was scorching my headset last night about _you_ ," Babs told her, and those green eyes watched her response keenly.

Kala managed not to grimace or swear, but she figured her irritation was plain. "I hope you told him to go pound salt," she said dryly. "Seriously, Babs, I've searched up the old news articles and hit a couple sources. I have the gist of what happened. But how the hell is he _alive_ , and why the hell are you and Bruce letting him run around Gotham?"

Babs regarded her thoughtfully. "No one is entirely sure of the answer to your first question. We have bits and pieces, a lot of guesses and damned few facts, and I know where I'd lay my money if I was betting. But the only person who _knows_ is Jay. And he hasn't told anyone. He avoids talking to us as much as possible. My hope has been that we could coax him into working with us, and perhaps eventually _dealing_ with everything that happened, but so far it's been a very slow process. He is extremely suspicious of everyone's motives."

"So what's your bet?" Kala asked, her curiosity piqued. More of the same reluctance and half-truths, she figured, but Babs was slightly more forthcoming than the rest.

Shaking her head, Babs replied, "No. A wild guess is one thing in my own head; sharing it is too much like gossip and rumor. Not to mention, if our suppositions are right, one of our most dangerous rogues is involved. As for your second question, the true answer is one we don't like to share, but you're smart enough to catch on. We're letting him run around Gotham because _we can't stop him_."

That, finally, took Kala aback, and she blinked as Babs continued. "Jay is trained and experienced to a level that's on par with Bruce. We couldn't catch him the first time around, when he was attacking our people and killing his way to the top of the gangs. We can't catch him now, when he's more fully in his right mind and not leaving a trail of bodies."

"Damn," Kala said softly.

Babs took her glasses off and polished them. "We _know_ where he lives, but that whole building is wired to blow, and his security otherwise is as good as mine. Any attempt to infiltrate would just cause him to abandon the place. I have limited access to his computers but I suspect he keeps some notes in hard copy only, or maybe memorized. If we push him too hard, he'll either throw some wrenches into our plans, or just vanish. He's very, very good at getting away when there's the first hint of trouble; he follows his hunches, he doesn't assume everything's going to be all right."

"He's paranoid as hell, you mean," Kala said, and that won her a smile from Babs.

"Probably, but have you seen my security? Or the Cave's? We all have similar kinds of training, Kala, the difference is how far he's willing to go. And the only ways I can think of stopping him have too high of a chance of killing him, or one of us. It's better for everyone to work with him. Especially when he's playing by the rules."

This Red Hood sounded like some legendary figure. All her life, she'd been told that Uncle Bruce was the world's greatest detective, but now she was hearing that his middle son had gone off the rails and had become almost unstoppable, someone not even the Bat could shut down. That was … terrifying, actually.

And none of it answered her real question. "How can you do it?" Kala asked, her voice raw. "I signed Tim's cast. How can you all just forgive that and let him back in?"

She saw the cold calculation in Babs' eyes, and had a fraction of a second to brace herself. "You murdered General Zod," Babs reminded her. "Your father, who has never taken a life and sworn never to do so, forgave you. Do you ever ask yourself why?"

Kala swallowed, her hands tensing on the arms of the chair she'd dropped into, hearing the wood creak softly. "You read my shrink's notes, you know I do."

"Because he loves you," Babs said, leaning forward, those hunter's eyes fixed on Kala. "We all loved Jay. Well, Tim didn't know him enough to love him, but Tim idolized him. Dick loved him and worried about him. Alfred adored him. Bruce loved him and wanted so badly to be the father Jay deserved. _I_ loved him, who wouldn't love that cocky little shit, lighting up a cigarette and hitting on _me_ at all of about thirteen? When I was, oh, twenty-something? We loved him, Kala … and we failed him. We _all_ failed him. It's not so much about us forgiving him, as it is about _him_ forgiving _us_."

She leaned back, taking a deep breath. "Your father thinks he failed you. That if he'd been a better dad, you never would've run away in the first place. That if he'd been smarter, _better_ somehow, he would've found you before you ever got close to killing Zod. He blames himself instead of you. That's love."

"It's not his fault," Kala said in a tiny voice, some part of her mind marveling over this woman's ability to reach right down inside her and shine a light on the most broken parts of her soul. "It's not Mom's fault either. They both did their best for me. Sometimes shit just _happens_ , and you do what you have to, then pick up the pieces after."

Babs gave her a sad half-smile. "Preaching to the choir. I don't blame Bruce or my father for being in this chair, even if both of them blame themselves. But if we want a world we can live with, we all have reach out to each other across that guilt and grief. It's either that, or go crazy. And Jay's swung too close to crazy already. For him, calling me up and using the word 'fuck' sixty-eight times in less than five minutes is as close as he gets to 'reaching out'. He could've just showed up here and put _me_ in the hospital. I'm good, but he's better. We both know he could do it."

"Jesus," Kala muttered. "So he has issues."

"A long time ago, Bruce asked me to assess his mental state," Babs told her, the smile growing a little warmer. "I told him Jay had baggage back _then_. Now he's got his own cargo ship full of it. So Kala … you shouldn't be afraid of him, but be careful. Please."

She gave a shaky laugh. "I can try."


	13. Hand to Hand

**Authors' Note:** This was one of our favorite chapters to write. And most of the creative credit goes to Saavikam77. So here it is at last!

* * *

 _Feel it coming in the air,  
Hear the screams from everywhere.  
I'm addicted to the thrill,  
It's a dangerous love affair.  
Can't be scared when it goes down.  
Got a problem, tell me now  
Only thing that's on my mind  
Is who gonna run this town tonight… _

Her phone alarm only got through the first verse of the song before Kala scrabbling for it on the night stand, stabbing the off-button with an irritable pointer finger. Taking in the position of the sun across her room, she yawned hugely and stretched her arms over her head with a groan. After a month and change, she still wasn't completely adjusted to the Bats' schedule. The hours weren't exactly easy for a morning person, but she'd had long nights on the road before. A little lack of sleep wasn't a big deal. It was the lack of time to hit the skies that was murder. Especially for a Super, but she'd agreed to the sunlight diet because it made sense. And really, still functioning at this level was a point of pride. Not even Mom would have easily acclimated if she'd been deprived of one of her mainstays—coffee was to Lois as sunlight was to the House of El.

Thinking of her mother conjured up a pang of homesickness, despite having talked to her less than a day ago. She missed home, missed Dad and Mom and their never-ending cycle of bickering and cooing, missed fussing at Elise for letting her brother talk her into eloping, and she missed Dopey in more ways than she could even count. What she wouldn't give for one of his extra-special nougies, or the chance to yank his hair at super-speed and blame ghosts. He'd been busy himself, working his butt off on a summer program at the big observatory in New Mexico, and the limited computer time meant his focus was totally on that project.

She wasn't going to think about missing Sebast, however, which was almost worse than being without Jase. As much as she'd loved this chance to train with Uncle Bruce, it hadn't been the easiest. But the end result would be worth it, she was certain. What was a little sacrifice in the face of what she'd been learning? Once upon a time, all she'd ever wanted to was to be a hero in her father's eyes. This was her chance to do that, as well as to get her priorities in order. There was a lot that she needed to learn this summer, and not just how to fight an opponent without crushing his windpipe. She thought of her best friend sadly. Yeah, there was a lot she had to get straight this summer.

But that was enough of that. She needed to get some food in her, definitely needed a little caffeine in her bloodstream before heading down to the Cave. And she needed to get in gear if she wanted food. Being late wasn't an option, especially since Tim and Dick were _always_ on time.

Only then did Kala notice the clock. 12:35. She'd been woolgathering longer than she thought. _**Shiiiiiit.**_ _Are you freaking serious?_ With a burst of speed, she jerked on black jeans and slipped a bra on, then her tank top. Boots on and hair pulled back in a ponytail and she was out the door. _This is just great. Perfect. All I need right now is the Boy Wonder Traveling Snark Show. Dammit. If I'm lucky, it'll be Tim that starts in on me first. I'm screwed if it's Dick._

Kicking into high gear, she was on her way to the kitchen, praying that there was even a crumb left after the boys had been eating. Honestly, it was like living with a pack of starving hyenas. And they could be just as deadly with their mouths if they caught you unaware, she thought with a smirk as she slowed just outside the kitchen. Jason had known the both of them since his training, years ago, and had grown very close to Tim. Close enough that the boys were best friends, Tim having been Lizardboy's accomplice when he and Elise had eloped. And Dick had worked with her father several times before and had done interviews with Mom. They had both been determined to treat her like family. She snickered. Thank God she'd grown up with a brother, or she might not have survived the 'honor'.

Easily hearing the hum of conversation behind the door before she opened it, Kala hesitated just a moment, listening to the clicking of silverware on plates, the movement of metal on metal on the stove. Tim laughed at something and she heard Dick snicker. God, they were all here, even Uncle Bruce. That wouldn't bode well. She groaned then, bracing herself for the commentary waiting for her. At the very least, Bruce had to be in a good mood if there was this much noise.

But on pushing the door open, all sound stopped abruptly and Kala was treated to four gazes trained squarely on her. It was like being in the scope of a high-powered weapon, both Tim and Dick sporting that gleam in their eyes that said things were about to get ugly. No one spoke for a long moment, Kala just standing there returning a glare with full rebellion, before she pouted defiantly and stalked to the table. Dropping into her usual chair, she muttered, "Oh, shut up. Like you guys have never gotten up late after patrol."

With that, the boys broke into cackling laughter, Dick wiping tears from his eyes with the back of his free hand as he stabbed at another bite of pancakes with his fork. Uncle Bruce even aimed a crooked smile at her, and despite the relief of being off the spot, Kala couldn't help a scowl in the older boy's direction. Figures. Timmy might be laughing, earning him her edition of the Lane Death Glare, but it was easy to see who started it. Leave it to Richard Grayson to be the ringleader. "Why am I not surprised? Like I should care what you think."

"You're so easy," Dick wheezed as he got control of himself.

"Says you," she shot back, catching his eye with a meaningful look. _Remember Tim's jokes about Gotham's bicycle before you call anyone easy, Mr. Grayson._ That was enough to quiet him, although the grin remained. While her earlier panic subsided into relief and annoyance, she realized that Bruce was showing no indication of otherwise commenting on her tardiness. Thank goodness; she just did not feel like sitting through a lecture without any caffeine in her yet. Especially not when Dick was the one being, well, a _dick._

But she schooled the beginnings of a smirk and her readied salvo of barbs to fling at the eldest boy when Alfred set a steaming mug of coffee in front of her, along with a plate of fresh dollar pancakes, sausage links, and eggs. Oh God, how could anything smell that good? Kala looked up gratefully. It was all too obvious who her favorite in the house was.

The family's surrogate grandfather patted her shoulder gently. "Miss Kala, you are hardly the first one in this household to sleep in after a rough night. I believe Master Bruce spent quite a few weeks rising late in the afternoon at the outset of his career, and even your brother was hardly immune to the affects of a rigorous evening."

Feeling vindicated, Kala smiled up at the old man. "Thanks, Alfred. I needed that. And thank you for saving some food for me in the midst of these savages."

"Quite welcome, my dear," he nodded, leveling his own rebuking look at the boys, against which they had no recourse but to look away, chided.

Wrinkling her nose at the lot of them, Kala deliberately took her time eating her pancakes with a superior expression. She'd pay for getting Alfred on her side later, definitely during training, but oh, what a sweet victory it was now.

…

Jay waited twenty-four hours before making a move. Honestly, he would've dropped in yesterday, while the new girl's ire was still fresh, but he didn't want to look too eager. Not like he was waiting for Bruce to invite him home, and he'd bounce right over like a good little boy. Screw that, he was no one's dog to come running when they whistled.

Bruce's words did echo in his mind, though. _You're the one staying away, Jason. You … don't have to anymore_ _._ The tone more than the words, as if Bruce couldn't figure out how to say it. Like he was trying to make Jay feel _welcome_ , and wasn't that a joke? He hadn't been to the house in years, had only been to the Cave to wreck that stupid fucking memorial case, and left to his own devices he'd have stayed away for a few more years. Too many memories there, too much damn baggage, and he'd _never_ really been comfortable in a house where the fuckin' chairs were worth more than his dad's car, growing up.

The invitation alone wouldn't have gotten him up there, nor the intel Babs had let slip indicating that Alfred was serving pancakes this morning. Most of it was Goth Barbie. She had some sass to her, Jay had to give her that. He figured it was mostly bravado, though. No way was a _Super_ prepared to deal with Gotham City up close and personal.

He didn't know all _that_ much about her, despite Babs' file. Just the major stats. He'd have to be prepared for everything. He'd re-read her file, but remained too intrigued by the attachment. Babs had some insanely-encrypted document linked to Kala's profile, and all Jay knew about it was its title: Nevada protocol. He hadn't been able to sneak a peek at it, and Babs wasn't going to unlock it for him. Oracle rarely parted with personal info if she could help it, so it was probably something intensely private.

One other thing Jay had noticed in his research into Batclan's new girl: she had her very own strike file. The brother's dossier just referenced the protocols for taking down Superman if he went out of control, but the girl had her own, and it was another file he couldn't access. Maybe she was immune to kryptonite, or weaker than the other two in some way.

Her day job was the most ridiculous thing about her. Really, seriously, the chick got her powers from the _sun_ and she was _Goth_. No wonder half the Titans were laughing behind their hands. Big Blue's baby daughter was a fucking _Goth rock star_. Up on stage almost every night in corsets and five pounds of eyeliner, singing her heart out and giving black-lipstick kisses on the cheek to front-row fans.

Jay had seen a few videos. He had to give her that, the girl could sing; she had a wicked set of pipes on her. And she could dance, too, all over that Latino guy who sang with her. Looked sexy as fuck. But what the hell was someone like that doing in _his_ city, trying to play capes 'n' robbers? Just what kind of game did she think this was?

He waited to call ahead until he was halfway there, and bounced his request through Oracle. "O, Hood. I'm in the neighborhood and I need clearance for the Roost."

There was just the briefest pause before she answered. "Clearance granted, Hood. Couldn't resist the pancakes?"

"Something like that," he replied, and broke the connection, gunning his bike onto the access road. A few minutes later he was strolling up to the door from the garage, ignoring the tension across his shoulders and the tight feeling in his gut. God, this was stupid, the whole damn place was haunted…

The door opened before he could reach for it, and Alfred smiled. The butler was the best damn thing about this place, that was for sure. "Welcome home, Master Jason. Breakfast is nearly over, but I took the liberty of saving you a plate. Just in case, as it were."

"Thanks, Alfred," Jay said, feeling like he was thirteen again and grinning with newfound approval.

The first thing he saw, walking into the room, was her. Kala. Mantling like a hawk over a plate of pancakes and glaring at Bruce and the boys. Until now he'd never seen her in plainclothes: on the street or onstage was different. This … wow. She was goddamn gorgeous.

Then she heard him, and looked up, and the expression on her face made it clear he was about as welcome as a bad smell. Jay grinned, making no secret of how he was sizing her up. Meanwhile Dick blinked in surprise and said, "Um. Hi, Jay. Thanks for joining us."

"I _was_ invited, by the way," Jay shot back, never taking his eyes off Kala. He'd expected some resistance, but it'd be token. As long as he didn't draw a weapon they probably wouldn't throw him bodily out the door. So he parried Dick's sarcasm with some of his own. "Last I checked _you_ lived in Blüdhaven. Are you home for the pancakes or the company?"

 _That_ narrowed Kala's pretty hazel eyes. Well, if she didn't want the world knowing she was riding the town bicycle, she should've kept it out of the tabloids. "Jay," Bruce said, but the note of warning was very subdued. And Timmy was scowling, but Tim lived with a permanent scowl. That, and everyone was trying to protect Goth Barbie from the big bad Red Hood.

The anger in Kala's expression was too delicious to resist, and besides, Alfred was busy making Jay's breakfast—he didn't believe that line about saving some for a minute. No, Alfred was making up his pancakes from scratch. So Jay pulled back the chair beside her like he was about to sit down, and when her shoulders stiffened in displeasure, he darted his hand toward her plate, meaning to steal one of her pancakes. Just to remind her that getting pissed at him didn't solve anything.

Much to his surprise, she struck as fast as he did, her fork aimed at the back of his hand. He had to jerk back, startled, and Timmy snickered. Kala just narrowed her eyes even more, glowering savagely at him, the fork poised to spear him if he tried again. Even Dick chuckled, but Bruce was reading his paper and completely ignoring the scene before him.

Jay managed a laugh. "You got a problem, Princess?"

"Just one," she shot back, still tensed to attack.

He snickered at her nastily. "Well damn, I didn't know you were _that_ hungry. Bruce, you don't feed aliens when they come to visit?"

Ah yes, three for the price of one. Bruce lowered the newspaper and glared at him for implying he was a poor host. Dick scowled, catching the reference to Kory. And oh, the rage in Supergirl's eyes. The angle of her fork changed, aimed a lot lower. "Sit down and shut up or I'll stab you in the junk," she growled under her breath.

He did take a seat, and the opportunity to lean close to her ear as he sat down. "I'm wearing a cup," he whispered.

"I have super-strength," she hissed back.

Any response he might've made—likely something about not giving away which powers she had—was put off by the arrival of Alfred bearing a large plate. "Your breakfast, Master Jason."

"Thanks, Alfred," he said with a smile.

Before he could dig in, Tim had to be an ass. "So, Jay, what brings you here? After, you know, _months_ of being in the city?"

Just to be a dick, Jay popped a sausage link in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed before answering. "I had an open invitation, Timbo. Figured I'd take it, since we're working the same case. Besides, it's worth seeing Alfred if nothing else." Shit, that last had kinda slipped out. He hadn't meant to include anything that was actually meaningfully true. To cover, Jay added, "Besides, I had to make sure the family was safe from new girl here and her mighty fork of justice."

"Don't let him rile you," Dick said, as Kala seemed to inflate like a pissed-off puffer fish. "He does this to everyone. The only known defense is to ignore him."

She forced herself to relax; she wasn't good at that, tension still obvious in the line of her shoulders. "Yeah, you're right. I'd hate for Alfred to have to clean up after me and the fork of justice. Could get messy."

Grinning, Jay chewed pancakes at her. None of them got it. The best way to figure someone out was to put them under stress; irritate them, unsettle them, get them off balance and shove. Antagonizing them forced them to show their true colors. Only then would you see what they were like under the mask that everyone, hero and villain and civilian alike, projected to the world.

This Kala chick was an unknown factor. He'd had an idea of who Tim and Steph were from reading their dossiers. But Kala was the first new one Bruce had taken on to train since Jay had been home and in his right mind. Why had he agreed to train her—and why the hell wasn't she with the Birds? Bruce was shit at training girls; you only had to look at Steph's history to know that. She didn't live up to her potential 'til Babs took over handling her.

It didn't add up, Bruce taking Kala on. She was over twenty, old to be in training by Bat standards, and he'd never been really happy working with metahumans before. He'd dealt with the brother, sure, but that was a favor to Superman, or so Jay guessed. Maybe this was too, but why now?

Too many questions. Jay knew how to get some answers, though. He decided to ratchet up the pressure a little. "So, Supergirl," he said between bites of scrambled egg. "If you don't want Alfred cleaning your blood off the walls, what's say we take this down to the training room after breakfast?"

" _My_ blood? You think so?" she laughed, sitting all the way back in her seat, and he knew then she was banking on the invulnerability. There were ways around that besides kryptonite, and he was sure she hadn't thought of them. But before anyone could say anything else, she added with a smirk, "Sure, let's get it over with. I've been wanting to kick your ass since we met."

"Kala, no," Dick said, sounding worried.

"Relax, Dickie-bird," Jay taunted. "I'll go easy on her. No critical injuries."

"I'll be fine," she said reassuringly, with a warm smile for Dick. And then Kala turned a much colder look to Jay. "Hurry up. Stalling won't make me want to snap you in half any less."

Jay took a long sip of coffee. "Oh, yeah. The prospect of showing you what kind of town you've _really_ walked into is the best seasoning ever."

…

Master Jason was home at last. Never mind that it had taken subterfuge and that dreadful organ harvesting operation, he was _home_. Temporarily, of course, he would never settle in so quickly. He hadn't done so the first time.

He'd walked in daring them all to challenge him, to tell him he wasn't wanted here, and Alfred had held his breath as he made the boy's breakfast. If one of them misspoke, if they gave him the dismissal he expected, he'd start a fight that would leave the breakfast room in matchsticks. And the chances of getting him back where belonged even slimmer than before.

But none of them did, they barely reacted even to his antagonizing, and Alfred breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps this would end well, after all.

What was on the plate was the _real_ welcome, bacon done just to the degree of crispness Master Jason preferred, pancakes doused in butter and syrup, eggs scrambled with just a little aged cheddar. All made fresh, with care and attention and yes, love. Master Jason was one of _his_ , and Alfred did not rescind his love for those boys, no matter how troubled they might be.

He was even making jokes, though Alfred looked a little askance at the fact that he'd chosen Miss Kala for his target. And she responded with more venom than Alfred expected. Unfortunate, that those two had decided to be foes, and he set his mind to working on ways to soothe them both. Perhaps Master Jason was threatened by a new trainee…?

And then he issued his challenge, and Kala accepted, and Master Bruce did _not_ veto it instantly. Alfred glanced at his employer – his own ward, once upon a time – and did not frown, though the line of his brows was sufficient to demonstrate his disapproval. Master Bruce pretended not to see it, and did not intervene, though only Alfred saw how closely he watched them both.

He had some sort of gambit in mind, Alfred had known him since childhood and knew that carefully blank expression. In his own estimation, it was too soon to be playing games with Master Jason's expectations – but here he was constrained by their roles. Master Bruce was, unfortunately, the master of the house.

And if Alfred even once rose up from his post as butler and gave Bruce an order, it would never be the same. He _could not_ be the man who commanded the Bat. So he watched, and waited, and planned to mitigate whatever disaster was about to occur.

…

Like it or not, Alfred's amazing breakfast was sitting in her stomach like so much lead. The last thing she had wanted to see at breakfast was the other night's fiasco in her face. Yeah, like so many of the surprises that the boys had trotted out while she was here, that just wasn't going to happen. Apparently, Red Hood had decided it was time to take the new kid's measure, see if she was really up to fighting in Gotham—as if Bruce would let her out in public if she wasn't. Sounded about the arrogance-level she expected after the display he'd made. Kala managed to stop herself from sneering at the thought as she squared off with Jay in the practice room. He'd thrown down the challenge, she'd taken it before Bruce or Dick could say it was a bad idea, and here they were, after just enough time to finish breakfast and change. At least they were in uniform, making it seem a little more like official training and less like a grudge match.

Kala took a deep breath, centering herself as she'd been taught. Jay just stretched his arms and grinned. "I'm the bad guy, Blur. Come get me."

 _Imagine that, you insufferable asshole. Your rep proceeds you. Not holding back on this one. He's earned it._ This time she couldn't stop the sneer, and lunged for him while her lip was still curled in aggravation.

Though staying out of the sun took a toll on her powers, Kala was still superhuman, still faster and stronger than an ordinary mortal. And not using her powers the last few weeks meant she still had some reserves to expend. Now was as good a time as any; it just took more effort to use her birthright. Going in for her standard takedown, she charged and leaped with a flying kick to the chest, which would've landed most thugs on their asses in a heartbeat.

But not Jay. Not only did he sidestep the blow, he caught her damn ankle in midair. _Shit!_ Kala thought, rolling with the twist he gave it. Fancy airborne kicks like that had their vulnerabilities, and at least she was prepared, landing only to spin back to her feet. By then he was in range—fucking _quick_ , say whatever else you liked about him, but he was Bat-trained and it showed—and Kala blocked the elbow coming for her temple. No way was she going to allow a knockout in the first thirty seconds.

Kala's strengths in fighting had always been speed and agility—she moved like a dancer, light-footed enough to dodge around most opponents. Running with the acrobatic Bats had finally matched her up with her equals, and Jay had an edge to his style that was much sharper than either Tim or Dick. As Kala hopped over a nasty kick meant to take out her knee, she realized what it was.

Jay was doing this shit for real, not sparring—the sonofabitch was actually trying to take her down. _Seriously_? _You wanna go there?_ Time to remind him who he was screwing around with. Kala didn't bother to parry the next blow, just catching his next solid punch with one hand and stopping his fist in midair. _I'm stronger than you, Mr. Tough Guy,_ she thought, grinning wickedly. _So you just go ahead and bring it. You might have scared me a few years ago, but not now. Not with what I've seen._

He smiled right back at her, and Kala skipped away from the nasty stomp that would've hurt her shin even through her pants. So far it was almost like sparring with the boys, except Jay struck a little harder, pulled a few nastier tricks. Kala was her mother's daughter, though, and she knew how to fight dirty. She let him catch her arm after a feinted punch, and stepped even closer for a snapped-up kick to the knee, which forced him to let her go and spin away.

Kala had him on the defensive then, and followed through as he turned a complete three-sixty, dodged the elbow aimed at her throat, planning to just grab him by the damn jacket and toss him across the room. Maybe that would wipe the smirk off his face…

Instead his other hand swept through a lightning uppercut that she didn't see until it was too late for even her to dodge. Jay's fist smashed into her mouth, the impact shoving her head sideways, her lips bruised between his knuckles and her teeth.

And then Kala tasted the tang of salt and iron, felt the sting where her lip had been cut against her own teeth. Her invulnerability should've been the last of her powers to go—or so she'd thought. Startled by the pain, she just barely managed to take the next punch with her shoulder instead of her ribs.

With that, her training kicked in instantly. Get some distance, regroup, evaluate. The thought no sooner crossed Kala's mind than she was across the training room, shaking her head to clear away the confusion. How the hell had he hit her that hard? She knew her pain and shock had to be obvious on her face.

A glance at Jay provided the answer then, as metal glittered on his hand. "What the—? Brass knuckles, Jay? Really?" Tim snarled from the sidelines. Dick scowled, crossing his arms, but Bruce might've been a statue for the immobility of his expression.

"Welcome to Gotham," Jay said lazily. "You think the scum out there is gonna go easy on a girl? Get real. You've already seen how this town treats 'em. Someone has to show the princess how it really is." And then he _smiled_ , the sadistic prick.

Slowly, deliberately, Kala wiped her mouth with the back of her gloved hand, counting the marks against Jay as two now: drawing her blood and calling her 'princess'. She _hated_ that now. The events of that long ago January haunted her every time it was even implied. No one knew how much she loathed it, except maybe her father; he'd stopped using that nickname after Nevada. Her temper flared just thinking about it. She'd teach Jay to gloat over his bullying tactics by the time she was done.

Without another word—no one had called the fight off, regardless of Tim's complaint—Kala leaped back into action. This time she aimed to dash past Jay at the best speed she could manage, lashing out with a knifehand strike at his neck on her way. Somehow he dodged it, and she landed well out of range, spinning on her toes to face him again.

Three times in quick succession Kala darted past Jay, striking at his joints as she went, and each time he managed to parry her blows. She paused at a distance, her eyes narrowed, trying to figure out how she was giving away her intent. That had to be how he was blocking each attack.

Jay just shrugged, scoffing under his breath. "You seriously think you can use strike-and-run tactics all the time? Newsflash, kid."

Scowling, getting angrier by the second, Kala swept past him again, launching a spinning rear kick at his neck. He dodged that too, but this time she was watching for his attempt to catch her foot and slipped away before he could.

Now he was laughing, taunting her. "C'mon, Supergirl, you have to close in eventually. I can do this all day—and you _can't_ do it in the field. How are you gonna pull this off out there, huh? Some of the alleys in the Bowery are only seven feet wide."

His mocking tone only fanned the flames of her wrath as Kala flashed toward him again, pushing into another notch of speed. She kept her mouth shut, not responding to the taunts so he wouldn't think he was getting under her skin. With each pass she came closer and closer to actually hitting him. The spectators had gone silent; Kala had never used these tactics in sparring before. She was living up to her code name, visible only as a blur when she moved. Reckless, to spend her powers like this, but that was the whole point of the summer, right?

Missing a slash at his elbow by only a hair's-breadth, something finally ticked over in her furious mind. How _would_ she handle a fight like this out in the city, where she wouldn't have room to dodge at such distances? Kala grinned, changing tactics in mid-dash. If she was too hemmed in to go sideways, she still had one more option. And just enough stored sunlight to pull it off.

Up.

…

Having timed his blocks carefully to make her bolder, Jay had lured Goth Barbie closer and closer. Soon she'd have to give up on the cut-and-run stuff and make a real attempt at taking him down—and then he'd have her. Brass knuckles weren't the only tricks up his sleeve, and it was high time she figured out that fights on the streets never had referees to cry foul or call time. It was _always_ no-holds-barred in Gotham, grab any advantage you could and run with it, because the bastard you were fighting was surely gonna do the same to you.

Maybe she'd finally buy a clue after this, and he didn't mind being the bad guy if it kept her alive. Sure, she was gonna hate him after he wiped the floor with her ass, but at least it would take the shine off of her and wake her up to what she was really dealing with. Whose fucking idea had it been to bring a damn Super to Gotham, anyway? To bring Big Blue's _daughter_ , his precious baby girl, into the lion's den? It was criminally stupid, letting a soft, tasty little morsel like her run around the mean streets. Any time she turned up on the street with those curves and those big pretty eyes, they might as well put out an ad letting all of the bad guys know that she was perfect hostage material. And if anyone figured out whose daughter she was … yeah, bad news. There was too damn much kryptonite around. The last thing Big Blue needed was Gotham's psychos after his kid.

He was pissing her off and he knew it. It'd make her reckless, and he needed that, because she had powers enough to make this difficult without it. Funny, though, the more furious she looked, the hotter she was; the rage in those eyes was a fire he wouldn't mind getting singed by, under most circumstances. He'd always had kind of a thing for dangerous women, and by the look on her face _she_ certainly thought she was one of them.

But there was no time for thoughts like that in a fight. Jay spun with her as she swept past him, close enough that her hair would've smacked him in the face if she hadn't tied it up in a tight knot. Smart, because leaving it loose would've let him use it for a leash. He figured she'd land close this time, maybe close enough for him to whip a _manriki_ at her ankles. That'd stop her running, for a minute anyway. And once he'd robbed her of her precious speed, she'd be his.

Instead she was just— _gone._ Jay blinked; Kala was nowhere in his field of vision. He'd seen her go past, so where…

 _Oh, fuck._ _ **Superman**_ _'s daughter, dumbass! She can_ _ **fly**_ _too!_ Jay looked up, shifting his weight to throw himself backwards, but she was already hovering right above him. Her palm strike caught him right in the nose, mashing it flat with a nasty crunching of cartilage and bone that rattled him right to the core.

…

Kala had swung 180 degrees up, pivoting on the crown of her head and letting herself rise just slightly. She hovered there, waiting, three beats of her racing heart before Jay looked up and saw her. She _wanted_ him to see what was coming to him. After being such a jackass, he deserved a thorough comeuppance, and it wouldn't be the same if she just clocked him one while he was still staring at the place where he thought she would be.

The heel of her hand smashed his nose, and Kala finished her spin, landing behind Jay and setting up for a roundhouse kick to the backs of his knees that would put him on the ground. But he had turned too, facing her in spite of the pain.

The blood gushing down his face froze her for an instant. So much blood, it was already soaking his shirt, and fear touched her heart with frost. _Shit, I really hurt him, all this time and all this training to control my powers, and the second some prick catcalls me I bust his face in._ While she stared in wide-eyed guilt, Jay lunged for her with a savage punch that would've broken _her_ nose too.

Kala whirled away, throwing her arm up so she caught his brass-knuckled fist with her bicep instead of her face. Evidently a broken nose barely slowed down the infamous Red Hood. Surprised by his tenacity and shaken by the blood—she could smell it, hear it pattering onto the mats—she pulled back to consider her strategy.

"Enough," Bruce snapped harshly, and both of them stopped, turning to face him. Jay moved with an air of defiance, while Kala turned guiltily, expecting a scolding.

And she got one, Bruce crossing his arms over his chest and eyeing them intently even as Dick fetched the first-aid kit for Jay. "You made one serious mistake, Kala, and in an actual combat situation it could have cost you your life and the lives of your team. For two full seconds, Jay didn't know where you were. That was a perfect opportunity to put him down. You were in range, you had the chance for a knockout strike, and you withheld it. Do you know why?"

Kala had no defense, and looked down for a second, her cheeks flushing. But cowering like a naughty kid didn't work with Bruce, so she forced herself to meet his eyes. "I was angry, sir."

"You were angry, and you wanted to make him pay. It's not _his_ fault you were angry. You _let_ him upset you. That, in turn, meant you forgot the purpose of this match, and you chose to seek revenge instead of a simple win. You wanted to hurt him and humiliate him, not just beat him." Bruce paused, glaring at her, and Kala withered under his stern gaze.

His voice was only slightly softer when he continued, "You have to control your emotions, Kala. All the powers in the world are meaningless if you let your heart rule your mind."

"Yes, sir," she replied in a small voice.

Meanwhile, Jay had finally gotten his nose under control, wads of cotton stuffed into his nostrils to stop the bleeding, and Bruce turned to him next. "Jason. While Kala made a mistake, you simply made a mistaken assumption. She's not here to learn how to fight. She's here to learn how to fight in such a way that she minimizes damage to property and people."

Dick couldn't resist adding, "In other words, pissing off Supers is generally a bad idea, especially when they're still fine-tuning control of their powers."

For a moment, Kala was sure Jay was about to shoot back a retort, probably something biting and spiteful, but instead he just shrugged, giving Dick a quick glare. And when he stalked out a short time later without another word, his heart still racing loudly in his chest, she couldn't help but wonder, _What the hell just happened?_


	14. Bloodied Noses and Bruised Egos

**Authors' Note:** Welcome back, readers! We're happy to report that we have a pretty good lead on this story, so the frequent updates will continue for now. If you're enjoying it, please let us know with a review. The hit counts are lovely, but both coauthors enjoying interacting with our readers. It's always exciting to get a new reviewer, or see what an old friend has to say.

Thank you all for continuing to read, and we hope you enjoy the current chapter. Be forewarned, there's more discussion of bad things happening to innocents here. But them, the story is tagged for violence.

* * *

Her face pinched in confusion, Kala read the text message again.

 _Seventh Circle, 10 pm_

 _Got intel_

 _Red_

Nope, the disbelief wasn't wearing off. Kala just stared at her phone for long moments, not trusting what she was seeing until she'd read it a dozen times or more. She wasn't the information broker, or a leader of any kind; she was just the trainee. The newbie, and she loathed that. Why send intel to _her_? Of course, she loathed being imposed on even more, considering the circumstances.

The sender was all the more bitterly amusing, given the circumstances of her being at home. Especially since it made no sense to her. She'd been lying on her bed when the phone had gone off, feeling like a kid being grounded—and resenting the feeling. But working through resentment was probably part of her training, learning to accept orders without rebelling or arguing. Even if those orders relegated her back to light patrol with the Birds, after one taste of the real deal. Even when the incident that had gotten her in trouble was at least partly someone else's fault.

Still, all that aside, why the hell was _Red Hood_ texting her to meet at a bar in Gotham's worst district? Any intel he had, the sensible thing would be to send it to Bruce. And if not Bruce, why exactly would he have contacted her, when he had the whole rest of the family to consider? Especially after she'd busted his nose in—just thinking of the sound the bones made as they splintered made her shudder—and then been scolded by Bruce for being sloppy. The memory made her cheeks burn, and didn't do much for her inclination to ignore the message.

It _had_ been stupid, letting him rile her up that much. Not quite the impression she'd wanted to give Hood after their verbal sparring the night of the take-down, and certainly not the way she'd wanted to cut loose with her abilities. Then again, what did she care about the impression she left on _him_? Her lip was still healing from _his_ impression on _her_.

It was no wonder Bruce had sidelined her the last two nights, really. If she was totally honest, Kala couldn't exactly say that she hadn't earned the reprimand. She was supposed to have learned more control by now, dammit. Lizardboy never slipped up like that, and if Jason—and Dad for that matter—could keep it locked down, why couldn't she? All it had taken was one cocky jerk daring her to fight, and she'd leapt at it. That said jerk was the middle son everyone warned her about, the one with some baggage _no one_ would talk about, didn't help matters either. Bruce had _told_ her he wasn't her concerned, and a day later she'd let him goad her into a fight.

Shaking off the sidetracked thought, Kala wondered yet again why Jay wanted to meet with _her_ rather than one of his brothers, and had gone as far as tracking down her phone number to arrange it. She kept circling the question until she could find some sense in it. They hadn't exactly parted on the best terms, him stalking silently out with a nose full of blood and cotton packing. It couldn't be to apologize for being a pompous ass, either; he'd more than proved that he just didn't care. The possibility of a peace offering occurred to her briefly, but a snort of amusement escaped her as she dismissed it. _Yeah, right._

As she sent a quick message, her mind still seethed with questions.

 _Why should I trust you?_

Kala didn't have to wait long for the response.

 _Scared? Tell Alfred where you're going. Promise the big bad hood isn't gonna eat ya._

Muttering a few choice words under her breath, Kala mulled it over some more. Maybe it was something to do with the location. Seventh Circle wasn't so much known for being the usual Wayne hangout; it was more of a dive that catered to metal-heads and bikers. And it was in the Bowery, _his_ territory. Why would he want _her_ there, and why would he invite her out when he had to know the rest of the clan was on patrol? What kind of tactic was this, maybe an attempt to get her into a rough situation, start a bar fight, and get her kicked out of Gotham for being in the middle of it?

Then she remembered that she'd been the one that broke his nose. And _he_ was the one contacting _her_. That … made it seem like maybe she was being the paranoid asshat here. Kala stared at the message again, turning the possibilities over in her mind before exhaling a slow breath. No. No. There had to be a reason for it. She was projecting. Her parents had taught her better than that: regardless of the situation at hand, you _never_ make assumptions.

Kala found herself smirking then. Problem was, with Jason Todd, what else was there? Rumors and assumptions and deceptions were pretty much all she had to go on.

Probably not a setup, then, especially not if he was leaving records that he'd contacted her. Maybe … maybe she was reading too much into this. He wouldn't have contacted her for no reason, considering the last time they'd seen one another. It wasn't like they were friends or anything, so it had to be important if he was bothering with her. Especially since Bruce wasn't thrilled with either of them. In the end, shaking her head and scowling slightly, she sent off a reply to his text.

 _Meet you there._

 _Nice choice._

She doubted he'd catch the sarcasm she'd intended, but maybe it was just as well. With a groan, she sat up. So much for staying home and feeling sorry for herself until it was time to meet the Birds. Dubious errands called. The upshot was that maybe she could get this thing with him squared away and get to the bottom of his attitude where she was concerned. Now she just had to run through a shower, call in late to Babs, and find something appropriate to wear to one of the seediest clubs that Gotham had to offer.

…

Sipping his beer absently, Jay relaxed in his chair and waited for Kala at the corner table closest to the back exit. Seventh Circle wasn't his usual sort of place—too many guys he'd probably beat all to hell at some point in the past, too many kids with enough piercings that they could be ripped apart like perforated paper if a bad guy was so inclined—but then, the smoke was thick enough that he and Kala wouldn't be noticed here, and their voices certainly wouldn't carry over the wailing of Anthrax and Ozzie covers, the little unknown band putting out some serious decibels in the opposite corner of the little bar.

He hoped offhand that it wouldn't screw with her hearing too much. Not that he personally cared, but there was no point in blowing out her eardrums when she wasn't even trained all the way up yet.

Maybe it'd be a learning experience for her. _Heh._

Another sip of his beer, and he finally spotted Kala sweeping in through the little entrance, all dark confidence and kohl-lined eyes, dressed in fitted dark jeans, silver-embroidered halter top, high boots. Silver gleaming at ears and throat. Hair swept up to trail down her back like a fucking waterfall.

Jesus fucking Christ, did she have to come dressed like it was a damn stage show?

Jay only shook his head, trying not to let his mouth hang open as she caught his gaze and seemed to heave a sigh before starting to head toward him. The cacophony in the room didn't seem to affect her at all, from the looks of things. One thing was for sure, though: she fit right in here, all black around the eyes and deep red lipstick over—

The second she sat down, eyeing him warily, he noticed the little scab on her lower lip from where he'd popped her with his brass knuckles. He was almost surprised it hadn't healed yet, and that sent a spike of guilt through him … and, well, he couldn't really deny that it was hot as fuck. Not that he was the kind of sicko that liked to see his handiwork on a woman's face. More like, battle scars were proof that a woman was a lot more than just a pretty face, and he'd always gone head over heels for a warrior with steel in her soul. If they couldn't fight as dirty as he did, they just weren't any fun.

Shit, maybe he was a sicko, just of another kind. And he was definitely gonna need another beer, remembering the sneaky way she'd broken his nose.

…

Once seated, Kala didn't say a word for a long moment, just leaned back in her chair, crossed her legs at the knee, and watched him. She'd never admit it in a million years, but Kala felt more out of her element than she'd expected. It wasn't the club; she and the band had played several dozen of these kinds of places in their first two years on the road, and she felt at home enough in the surroundings. Even the most aggressive of the metal-heads weren't much of a worry. No, the source of her off-kilter instincts lay in the man in front of her.

She'd never actually hurt anyone she knew personally with her allotment of the family powers yet, which made it all the more awkward to face him. But she had chosen to come. At least she could tell herself that he was wearing that bandage because she had beaten him, getting the last punch if not the first. He would have done it to her, given half the chance, and her sore mouth proved it. Somehow, telling herself that didn't make her feel much better. Telling herself she didn't trust him didn't help, either.

Guys like Jay had always been on the absolute bottom of her list of any sort of association. 'Cocky' was all right, but 'snide' and 'demeaning' had never been traits that she'd gone looking for in a friend, much less tolerated in any of her relationships with either sex. Jay didn't really fit into any category, made all the more frustrating by the fact that he was hard to read. From the way he'd acted once the fight was over, it seemed as if he'd been searching for something in their sparring, maybe even in the verbal and physical shoving match the night before. He'd been sizing her up, clearly, but what for? It had to have been more than a need to see what she knew. What was his game?

He looked pretty laid back for the establishment they found themselves in, wearing his standard leather jacket, white t-shirt, and blue jeans, but he didn't seem inclined to care that he was, essentially, under-dressed. Even the flesh-toned bandage he was sporting over his broken—and still definitely swollen, to Kala's eyes at least—nose didn't seem to stand out. The effect was an air of aloofness, of blending in, of—

She thought about it for a moment longer, then scoffed. _It's a freakin'_ _ **alt**_ _bar. In_ _ **Gotham**_ _. This_ _ **is**_ _blending in. I don't think anyone's going to notice me unless they wanna buy me a drink._ Maybe it was just that Hood might not approve. And that was perfectly fine with her.

But the way Jay took a slow swig of his beer, wet lips on the mouth of the bottle, his throat exposed as he tipped the drink up, told her that maybe … maybe that wasn't the case, either. Trying to get used to seeing him outside of the helmet and the damn domino he wore under it, Kala looked at him curiously. She hadn't had the chance to really _see_ him the other day, between the snarking and sparring, and now he didn't seem to be what she'd expected; even if he was an enormous jerk, he was actually attractive. His eyes, despite the way he kept them shuttered, startled her the most. Pale, icy blue, piercingly intelligent, framed by jet-black lashes, those eyes kept catching her attention. Here in the real world, out among the civvies, she grudgingly had to admit that he might've interested her pretty quickly if she'd just met him on the street. Well, if he didn't have a tendency toward opening his mouth and braying like a jackass.

Something deep in her mind flatly disapproved then, and told her so in no uncertain terms. _What the hell?_ _ **Seriously?**_ _He punched you in the mouth with brass knuckles, Kala. Punched you. In the._ _ **Mouth.**_ _Get your shit together._

Trying to ignore the way her cheeks faintly burned, she crossed her arms and stared him down. Just because he turned out to be easy on the eyes didn't mean he'd earned any bonus points. He wouldn't be getting the upper hand this time. "All right, so you asked me here, Red, I'm here despite my better judgment. Blew off patrol with the Birds to meet you, so it had better be good. How's the nose, by the way?"

Across the little table, one corner of Jay's mouth tugged upward just a hair, though his eyes seemed to darken, giving Kala the impression that he might not have been expecting that as her opening salvo.

"Still broken, thanks," he answered after a moment. "How's the lip?"

Kala fought to hide a wince. "Still split, no thanks to your damn dirty trick." Usually a sunbath would fix something as simple as that in only a few minutes, she'd done it before, but she'd been toeing the line with Bruce. Taking care of battle wounds like that would seem like cheating. "And I can't do a damn thing about it right now. But trust me, I'll live."

Jay's almost-smile nearly reached his eyes this time. "Gotham will do that to ya. Best to be prepared."

"I'd noticed," she said lightly, even as she knew he was laughing at her again. Kala's nerves rankled; she wanted to scowl at him, but knew it would just make her look like she was pouting, and there was no way she was going to give him a chance to mock her. It was starting to seem like he could find something to snark about in any situation, that everything around him was ammunition. She, however, had her reputation as Lois Lane's daughter to keep. Letting him get the better of her again wasn't an option.

Time to make one thing clear, then. "Look, Red. Regardless of whatever you think you know about me, this isn't the first time I've been in dangerous situations. I don't know what lesson you think you're trying to teach me, but I'm not some freakin' Girl Scout on vacation in the big, bad city."

Snorting at that, Jay shifted in his chair. "You really don't get it, do you? You stick out like a sore thumb in Gotham. And sooner or later, you're gonna turn the wrong heads."

Kala lifted an eyebrow. Seriously, how did he think he had the high ground, here? "This from a guy who used to wear the red, green, and yellow," she shot back, noting to herself how stiff he seemed as he shifted again. Maybe she'd done more damage to him than she'd thought, and the laid-back attitude was all a front. That would certainly explain a lot.

"Obviously. I speak from experience. You want to get kidnapped, chopped to bits, bring all the flash and pizzazz you can. Being bait in this town isn't exactly the greatest idea."

And there it was again, the references to things that might or might not have happened to him, or to someone he knew. He'd even admitted that he had first-hand experience. So, what was the deal? Her fingers practically itched with the need to learn more, and to find out just how he thought it all applied to _her._

"All right, so you've got my attention," she said, leaning forward with her hands clasped over the table. "Just what the hell happened, to make you think I'm gonna wind up in Gotham Harbor?"

A muscle next to Jay's eye twitched, his pulse picking up, judging by the noticeable throb of the vein in his neck. "You don't want to know," he murmured, mostly under his breath, and he brought his beer bottle back up to take a long swig. Clearly, he was stalling.

Kala frowned despite herself. He'd been nothing but in her face and aggressive to her from the moment they met, so this foot-shuffling routine wasn't going to work. "Actually, you'd be incorrect in that at this point. From the moment I showed up on your radar, you've been acting like I'm a dangerous liability. And you know what? I don't deal well with that. And I know … I know that _something_ happened about ten years ago. Something really bad. I know you went missing for a long time, that everyone thought you were dead, and that things weren't so good when you came back. So we talk or I walk."

This time, his wince was unmistakable, and he averted his gaze abruptly. "Who the fuck told you that?"

She grinned toothily at him, but unlike her usual demented-shark smile, there was no friendliness in it. "My parents are both award-winning journalists, Mr. Hood. I have my sources."

A snort, and Jay sat back, took another swig of his beer. "Timmy, right?"

It was a damn good thing Kala had grown up practically underfoot in a newsroom. Especially since he was close enough to the truth. No way was she about to throw her brother's best friend under the bus. "He was the least forthcoming. But I was also in town briefly the night you hurt Tim. Steph went after you, and I was the one to drag her off your trail," she shot back evenly. It hurt her heart to mention Steph, but she wanted to make it clear that she knew what she was talking about. "Point is, you seem to think you know more about me than I know about you, and you're also under the mistaken impression that I'm incapable of taking care of myself, so it's about time we were on an even keel."

"You really fucking want to know?" he asked, his voice tight.

"Yeah, " Kala said archly, sitting up straighter. "Yes, I _really_ fucking want to know. I'm sitting here with bated breath because I'm about over the attitude. You gonna tell me? Or just dance around and throw a few dire hints my way until I decide it's more damn trouble than you're worth?"

"All right, then." Shifting closer, Jay set his beer on the table and fixed his gaze on her, his hands clasped to mirror her posture. "I was on a solo mission out of state, against B's advice. Got captured by the Joker. He didn't so much care for kids wearing my particular colors, you know? So he had a little fun with me, broke nearly every fucking bone in my body with a goddamn crowbar, beat me within an inch of my fucking life. You don't know pain until you've felt your own skull cave in."

Kala's eyes widened. She knew it, secondhand, but the raw pain in his voice really brought it home to her. She hadn't expected him to actually talk about it, and thinking about it actually happening gave her chills. Just hearing it brought back shades of the pain she'd felt standing on New Krypton, the air whizzing past her face just before she'd plummeted into icy water. Her little body exhausted, air draining away, the world drifting. That and that moment in the weapons locker with the radiation gun… Both of those had been bad enough, but this was worse than she'd even imagined. Beaten half to death with a blunt weapon wielded by a psychopath? She couldn't hold back a shiver of sympathy. _Holy shit. No wonder…_

…

Jay didn't talk about this. Ever. The bullshit that had gone down with the Joker was just too much to dredge up on any given night. But this girl … she held on like a bulldog, and she was so fucking sure of herself. Yeah, she'd pulled some good moves the other day, his nose the proof of that, but it wouldn't save her. Nothing would. Nothing did. Not when her eyes still got that haunted look at the mention of the hell he'd been through. Still too soft for his town.

"That's not even the worst of, kid," Jay went on. "One of the Joker's 'associates' apparently had enough compassion to drop my busted ass in an open dumpster eight blocks away before they blew up the damn warehouse, and I spent a year and a half in a fucking coma at a hospital in Philly after a garbage man spotted me and called 911. I was a fucking John Doe, because _Daddy Bruce,"_ he spat, "just fucking assumed I was dead when all he found was blood and charred tissue on the warehouse floor that they were able to match to me, and the burnt up rags that used to be my uniform. When I woke up, I didn't have a goddamn clue who I was, so I let my own ass out the side door, and—" He paused, taking a deep breath and clamping down on the insane urge to spill even more. "And shit just got worse from there. I wound up being kept someplace I had no business being, turned into a goddamn _monster."_

Frowning, Kala looked like she thought something wasn't right with Jay's story. "Wait, I cry bullshit," she said after a long moment, her voice flat and defensive. "There's no way Bruce would have just _left_ you there." Of course she probably thought that no way in _hell_ would Bruce have done that, that no way would her own dad have _let_ him, that the squeaky-clean heroes' club would _never_ have allowed all this to be swept under the rug.

Jay shot back a dark smirk. Little did she know. "Yeah, because he's 'Father of the Year' material. Just because you got Big Blue, doesn't mean the rest of us got a fair shake. Bruce couldn't even be bothered to make sure I was really dead. He was too busy crying his fucking eyes out over that damn memorial case in the Cave, that you probably haven't even _seen_ because they took it down when I came back. Like it didn't even happen. Like I didn't fucking _matter_ anymore."

Kala's eyes went wide, her mind probably spinning just trying to keep up with the grenades of revelations he kept lobbing at her. Merciless, but that was his specialty. He had to break through the denial written all over her face. Kala opened her mouth to try to protest, but Jay cut her off with a wave of his hand.

"I'm not even _done_ yet. Bruce had a fucking memorial service over a goddamn empty coffin and everything, just him and Dick and Alfred, maybe one or two others. Couldn't let word get out that Robins were easy fucking targets, couldn't let the rest of the 'community' know what a fucking _failure_ he was as a mentor. Couldn't bear to show them what a shitty kid he'd had the idiocy to take in." Another swig of his beer, and he leaned in closer, starting again with a lowered voice, "And you know what? I'm not even the only one it happened to. Since you got little Timmy talking, why don't you ask him about Steph some time? Or maybe even ask her yourself, if you can track her down; I'm sure she'd be willing to share the fucking nightmare she went through when Black Mask took a fucking _drill_ to her head, all because Daddy Bruce doesn't know how to take care of his kids."

Never mind that he was bringing up Steph to keep from telling any more of his own secrets. It still counted.

…

That stopped Kala, and she couldn't help a piercing gaze when she looked Jay in the eyes, a goose walking over her grave. She'd met Stephanie while the blonde had still actively been Spoiler, and Steph was actually pretty damn _normal_ for a cape. Well, a cape with her background. Ice flowed down her spine as she thought about the way that Tim had given her the shortest explanation ever for why there she'd left. Or how or why she was living in Africa with family friends. Her stomach dropped to her knees. She hadn't let herself think too hard on it, but maybe there was some truth to what he was saying after all. No one in the Manor – or the Clock Tower – had wanted to talk about what had happened to Steph. Or Jay.

She was reminded then of the discussion that she and Dick had had about Jay the night she'd first laid eyes on Red Hood, about Jay's 'specialcircumstances _'_ for his behavior. Dick had been hesitant to discuss it, saying the story was Jay's to tell. Tim had been guarded and careful with what he'd been willing to tell her, too, so she'd guessed it had been more about the rift than anything else. But all this was pretty damn hard to believe. There was no way that, in addition to letting Jay rot in some hospital without looking harder for an actual body, the family had let something that brutal happen to another kid and covered it up. Honestly, some pretty unbelievable shit tended to happen in the world of the capes, but this seemed to take the cake.

She shook her head then, trying to dislodge the thought. No way Uncle Bruce would have done that. Whatever else had passed between them, Bruce loved his sons. He was tough, sometimes overwhelmingly so, but he did care for them. Jay _had_ to have misunderstood. Bruce had to have looked for him, left no stone unturned. But there was no denying Jay's story, when Kala knew that he'd been gone and how he'd returned. Clearly there had been a body somewhere and clearly Bruce had missed it. Could there be some truth there? She pushed away the sudden sickness she felt at the very idea of it.

"Hold it. Hold it right there," she said after a long moment, the full gravity of Jay's accusations sinking in and her mind rejecting each in turn out of self-defense. "I'm familiar enough with your family to know that they can be exceedingly nuts sometimes, but come on. Do you really think I'm this stupid? I mean, two kids get nearly killed, and no one outside the League's inner circle _knows_ about it? The criminal underworld isn't constantly buzzing with rumored myths about how to kill a Robin and get away with it? Yeah, right."

Sitting back again, Jay just shrugged. "You asked. That's the truth. And everything else, well, I didn't exactly come back from the Pit—" he said, cutting himself off abruptly, and Kala could hear the capital letter on the word, enough that it piqued her curiosity, something to dig at later, "—from the _shit_ I went through with my sanity intact. Steph was fucking lucky, by comparison. And you still don't believe me? Ask Daddy Bruce. See how fucking pale he goes at the mere mention of it."

At that, Kala couldn't help a gasp. No matter how bad it made Bruce look, it was abundantly clear that Jay believed it. He was serious. _Dead_ serious. Something told her that, no matter how bad it made things look, Jay was telling the truth. Or at least the truth from his side of things. He truly believed that they'd all left off the search because he didn't really matter to any of them. That wasn't how it sounded to her, when they talked about him … but Babs had said they'd _all_ failed him.

Maybe this was what she'd meant.

 _Jesus. If what he says is true…_ Batclan had always kept its own council, but that this could have happened… She thought about the story he'd spun for her. Kala was surprised to find herself hurting for him, blown away by the sheer amount of bad luck—no, worse than bad luck, more like curses—that dogged the man in front of her. Her life had been far from the idyll that Jay seemed to think it was, and yet it had never been anywhere as brutal as his, even without the double helping of horror that he'd tacked on the end. That was the other side of the coin, too; the whole story was a lot to swallow. She could tell just by watching his face, listening to his heartbeat, and the way he looked so utterly on-edge discussing it, as if he was conjuring up old ghosts by even discussing it. What it came down to was that he thought he was helping her.

There were parts missing, obviously, and some of it was clearly an artifact of Jay's perception, but the core of it felt more true than not, even if he'd taken a hard left turn into someone else's story just to avoid the rest of his own. _Everyone_ had been uncomfortable with her asking, even her own mom, which lent credence to the first part of Jay's story at least. She also had the feeling that it hadn't been the first time Tim had told someone, so she made a mental note to quiz her twin on his knowledge of Jay's history.

And the comparisons here to her time spent in Luthor's facility, the week she'd been out of her right mind, made her uneasy. No one knew about _that,_ either, or the echo of it that still lived in the back of her mind. Crazy stuff like this wasn't impossible. It shouldn't be right, shouldn't happen, but it did. And the League kept it under tight wraps when it did. She should know.

Kala's brow furrowed while she tried to puzzle it all out. _Christ, what a mess. I'm gonna have to do some hardcore digging to find out how much of this is bona fide fact._ _And I'm starting to wonder if I honestly want to know the truth about what happened 'after'._ But there were still so many questions, the most pertinent one finally on the tip of her tongue. "I guess my question is, why are you even worried about me?" she asked in a low voice, meeting his eyes directly. "Why do you even care what happens to me? Especially since you obviously know who my dad is. And my brother. There are a ton of other capes here in Gotham; why aren't you sitting in front of _them,_ warning _them_ off? What makes me so special? Why do you even give a shit about me and what Bruce does and doesn't teach me?"

Narrowing his eyes, Jay took a final pull off his beer, upending it, and set the bottle back on the table. "You still don't get it, do you? There's not a damn noble thing about Bruce teaching you how to _supposedly_ get your hands dirty. Wake up, Princess. You think he just gives out his deep dark secrets willy nilly? He'll have you believing that you got the best training in the universe, and all you'll have gotten from him is a couple lessons on how to knock out an assailant and how to manage pain. From the way you looked when you did _this,"_ he paused, waving his fingers at the bandage over his nose, "it looks like I might just be too late. You want to learn how to survive in this town? You're gonna have blood on your hands a lot worse than this. And don't let Bruce or Golden Boy convince you they don't have plenty on _theirs._ They might as well be dripping with it. Just 'cause they don't kill outright, doesn't mean they don't land a whole lotta people in the hospital, and not all of them walk out again. I just have enough sense not to live in denial."

Something clicked in Kala's brain with that, and she looked at him in astonishment. Did he really think she didn't know? "Seriously? _That's_ what this is all about? You think I don't know they aren't squeaky clean? Give me a break. I may be easy on the eyes, but I wasn't born yesterday. Being a Super doesn't make you _stupid_ , Jay." Scowling at him, she felt her own ghosts rise, and hated the way she knew it showed in her eyes. "As for me getting blood on my hands, I've got news for you: that ship sailed a _long_ time ago. That's why I've stayed out of this for so long. But it was made very clear by someone in the community that this isn't just about me, so here I am."

This time it was Jay's turn to appear caught off-guard, but when all he did was raise an eyebrow at her questioningly, Kala sighed and looked away, shaking her head. Okay, so maybe he might just have a point with some of the secrets in the hero world. Maybe more of a point than she'd like to admit. "Look, don't expect an explanation, all right? It was a while back. Guess it's another thing no one ever talks about." She made herself meet his stare again, resisting the urge to shutter her expression. That would show him better than words just how much the thought had rocked her. "Suffice it to say, I'm not the innocent little 'princess' you seem to see me as, no matter who my father is, and I don't need the protection of the big, bad Red Hood."

A loose shrug, as if he was shaking off the notion that he'd been caught out red-handed, and he shifted forward again, that same stiff tension following him, that proved to Kala that he was hurt worse than he'd let on. "So sue me," he started, holding her gaze with those damn blue eyes. "It ain't exactly a crime to want to keep bad shit from happening to people. That's supposed to be why we do this, right?"

Now _that_ surprised her a little, Jay admitting that that was what he'd been up to. He really and truly thought he was trying to save her from getting down and dirty. It hadn't been a need to take her down as much as scare her away before she was tarnished. She tried not to think about how that made her feel, the thought hitting her deeper than she wanted to consider. That someone would see her that way… "Of course it is," Kala conceded, unable to conceal a small smile that rose to her lips. "But … you're not exactly coming off as a knight-in-shining-armor, here. You're right, I have a lot to learn about this kind of fighting. You're right, okay? But give a woman some breathing room to fuck up on her own terms, all right? And besides, if it comes down to it, I _do_ happen to have an arsenal at my disposal that you guys don't."

Jay just shook his head, blinking hard and breaking whatever spell seemed to have been holding Kala prisoner. "That's just the thing; you don't," he groaned. "You know what Bruce keeps in his belt, right?"

A thin tendril of ice worked its way down Kala's spine, and she gave him a guarded look, daring to ask, "What?" She was sure she already knew, but dammit, that was for emergencies. The kind of emergencies _she'd_ put to rest, out in Nevada.

That gaze fixed her in place again, and Jay huffed out a breath. "He keeps k on him at all times, Kala. One nice little chunk, for emergency uses only. And you know why? Because there's always a chance that shit with your dad will go sideways in the worst way. You guys aren't immune to magic or mind control. Thing is, he's not the only jerk that's got insurance against Big Blue. That shit is fucking _everywhere;_ hell, couple years back I stole a whole crate of it off Black Mask. The trade in k beats precious metals, guns, or drugs any day. And I seriously fucking doubt you're completely immune to its effects, parentage notwithstanding."

This day was just turning out to be full of surprises. None of which she was liking.

The icy tendril turned into a thick spike of frozen terror then—no, not terror, she'd never admit to that—driven all the way down to her toes, and she couldn't stop the memories as they came to her once again, unbidden and very, very unwelcome. All that kryptonite, pain searing her nerves like green fire that she just couldn't escape.

If the shiver that followed the wave of dread down her back showed, Jay certainly didn't seem to notice, instead smirking as he went on, "So all the shit you're training for now? It's not gonna do you much fucking good around here, and sure as hell not in the long run, when the world figures out just who you are."

"Okay, so, I train harder," she countered, feeling suddenly defensive, despite herself. "I train better. I train without powers, which is what I've _been_ doing this summer. Whatever it takes. It's not like I'm not taking the worst kind of pains to make sure no one has a clue that I'm part of the family. It's not like people just randomly use k on other heroes. They know it only works on one family. And what the hell would _they_ be doing _here?"_

Jay only shook his head again. "Not good enough. Your brother the 'Super-clone' runs around town all the time, and you'd better bet they all have it, if just for him. No, Bruce's methods will only get you so far, and after that, you're toast if you cross the wrong boss in this town. You gotta be prepared to get your hands so dirty that you'll never get 'em clean. That's where I come in. Bruce would _never_ work you as hard as I train."

Well, that was most certainly unexpected. And suddenly, Jay's motivations for this meeting seemed all too clear, even if they were contradictory. Kala raised an eyebrow at him pointedly, leaning back in her chair. "Wait a minute here. Ten minutes ago you were trying to get me to turn tail and run, but now you're offering a little extra training on the side?"

"Hey, you were the one that claimed to not be so innocent," Jay countered, sitting up and briefly spreading his arms out in a dramatic shrug. "I'm not about to let somebody get killed because they got the same crap training I did. And I sure as hell refuse to let the same shit happen to you that happened to Steph, because Daddy Bruce didn't prepare you for everything."

Something else tugged at a thread of connection in Kala's mind with that, and she set the thought aside for later as she flashed on the breakfast they'd all shared at the Manor just days before … and before he'd split her lip, she thought sardonically. "You've got one hell of a chip on your shoulder about your family. That said, for a guy that seems to have no trouble firing salvos at your family's methods, you sure didn't have any problem popping in to eat Alfred's pancakes and give your brothers shit in front of the new girl. And yet, after everything you told me earlier…" She put her chin on her hand and just stared at him for a long minute. There was so much to digest from this conversation, a lot to look into as soon as she got a chance. Breathing out a sigh, she quirked her lips in a tiny smile. They might not be besties, but she could at least understand his position a little better. "You're a very complicated, angry man, Mr. Todd."

At that, Jay actually managed to look a little embarrassed. There was no way Kala was imagining the slight flush to his cheeks when he averted his gaze. _Oh yeah, the anger at his family is a definite sticking point._

"Family's family," he said under his breath, still perfectly clear to Kala's ears. "Just because … just because shit happens, and they do stupid crap that nearly gets people killed, doesn't mean they're completely beyond redemption. Even Timbo, pretentious little shit that he is, he gets this now. Had to lose his parents to see it, poor bastard, but hey. I wouldn't hate 'em if I didn't know 'em inside out. Except Alfred. Everybody loves Alfred. You gotta admit, his breakfasts are worth putting up with those sanctimonious assholes."

And _that,_ Kala could at least agree with, one hundred percent. That same winter that she still saw in her nightmares, it had looked as if it was going to be either her or her mother. Nothing had been right between them for longer than thirty seconds at a go. It had even been as if, at times, Lois thought Kala was even _breathing_ the wrong way. And always with the reminders that they were so much alike, except that those shared traits seemed to be the ones that drove Mom the most crazy. There had been hot moments of utter fury in which Kala had thought she hated her. The night she'd been late coming home on New Year's remained one of the memories of the past that still hurt, years later. Neither of them had had the slightest clue what they'd set in motion that night, nor the way it would affect the entire family.

But after that horrible moment when Luthor had clasped her mother's bloody locket around her, all of that fell away. And then, seeing Mom so small and pale in the hospital after Luthor had shot her while she'd been trying to get her spoiled brat of a daughter back…. Yeah, things changed a lot after that. It wasn't like they didn't still butt heads from time to time, but what was a stupid fight next to still being in each other's lives, being able to talk to each other and see each other on a semi-regular basis? The smile that had appeared briefly earlier returned, her lips quirked up slightly. She gave a little laugh. "Amen to that. Family's family."

Jay responded with his own huff of a laugh, his shoulders seeming to relax for the first time since Kala had walked into the bar. "Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em?" he ventured, one eyebrow raised again as a note of mischief settled onto his features.

"Agreed." And with that out of the way, she was surprised to find herself feeling on more even ground with him than she had since they'd first met, as it seemed the two of them had a few more things in common than she'd even suspected. Who knew? She'd also realized that he'd finally called her by her name a while ago, rather than the 'princess' and 'kiddo' she'd been getting every time they interacted, which called for a peace offering unto itself.

Crossing her arms, Kala openly eyed Jay's empty longneck. "Well, _Jay_ , you got me out here when I didn't trust you, actually opened my eyes a little and got your message across, and now you've managed to get me to agree to train with you," she drawled, her lips curving just a little more. "I guess the only question I have left is: are you gonna buy me drink, or what? After all of that, I think you owe me one."

…

Kala actually won a scoffing laugh from Jay with that. All of that mess heaved up and splattered out between them, and she not only _agreed_ to take lessons from him, she wanted him to buy her a drink? Then again, he supposed her throat had to be pretty dry after watching him sip a beer all this time. "Sure, fine. A drink for the lady, then," he said with an edge of humor. "Mich Light?"

Kala's nose wrinkled, making a face at him. "Ewww, no. That stuff is only good for conditioning your hair. Don't touch it. Tell me they have hard cider."

He stared at her in disbelief. Such a Super. " _Cider_? Have you looked around at all, K? You order cider in a place like this, you might as well paint a target on your back. Your best chance is for two guys to try mugging you at the same time and run into each other, Three Stooges-style."

"Are you _always_ this prone to exaggeration? Cider isn't that damn hard to find in dives," she asked, propping her chin on her hand again. They traded looks for a moment before Kala gave in, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Fine, fine. I understand you're too insecure about your manhood to be seen drinking with the kind of girl who doesn't drink anything that smells like horse piss. Guess I'm stuck with a rum and Coke, then."

"Sure you can handle the hard liquor?" he replied, taunting now, even as he caught the eye of one of the beleaguered waitresses. He'd honestly been afraid she'd go for milk or something, considering her dad was known not to touch the hard stuff.

Kala's gaze raised lazily to the ceiling again, giving him a sour look when she was finished. "Please. Don't make assumptions because of what family you're in. Figured you knew that. Surprise, surprise; we Supers? We actually drink on occasion. Push me, I might even light up a cigarette." A little laugh, and then she added, "Besides, with my metabolism, it's not like I can even get tipsy on it. Proverbial lead-lined stomach."

"Rum and coke it is," Jay said, and repeated that to the waitress a moment later. He never thought he'd be sitting down to a drink with _Supergirl_ , but much to his surprise the corners of his mouth kept wanting to tug up in a smile.

Maybe it was just because of the absurdity of it. _Red Hood_ , the guy that half of Gotham's cops still wanted to bust, whether they brought him in alive or bullet-riddled, having a drink with the super-powered daughter of _Superman_. In _this_ bar, of all places. Not the spot you'd expect one of Gotham's Most Wanted to sit down with a Kryptonian.

Evidently she misread his look, because she said drolly, "You can stop looking worried. We used to play places like this all the time. I admit, I came in here thinking you'd brought me out to your turf to set me up, but … I like the way this turned out better."

He had to give her credit for being suspicious. Her drink arrived, and Jay smirked as she sipped it. "Nah, if I wanted to set you up I can think of three or four ways to do it that don't involve listening to the cover band here. Wanna go give them some lessons?"

She almost—almost—choked on her spiked soda. "They _are_ pretty bad. But seriously? Like _that_ wouldn't make the news. I'd bet at least six or seven people here know my voice, even if they did download the album off The Pirate Bay or rip it from YouTube."

It was that blasé remark that got a chuckle from him at last. Maybe this _wouldn't_ turn out to be the worst decision he'd ever made.


	15. Betting On a House of Cards

Jay, do you have the slightest idea what you're up to? Because long-time readers know he really doesn't. Poor boy.

Thank you all so much for the reviews last chapter. It really helps us know what you think on how well we're capturing the feel on these guys. Despite *expert* help in the Bats category, it's nice to know that you are enjoying this little tale we're spinning. We held onto it for so long; it's a great feeling to finally make it canon.

And, as always, we owe so much love to Saavikam77. Ella, we could never have done this without all your hard work that looong summer. You deserve a medal and Alfred's cookies for everything. We love you, we salute you, you're our favorite author, and we don't deserve you. All the loves. ❤

And now that we've blathered on, with no further ado, on with the show!

* * *

He got his clearance from Babs again, and drove up to Bristol with ghosts riding shotgun. Going to the Manor was always fraught with tension for Jay. Memories crowded his mind, from living here as a kid, in such stupefying opulence. He'd been born and raised in the Bowery, where everybody knew how to patch nail holes in the wall with toothpaste so they could hopefully get their security deposit back when the lease was up. The Manor had hundred-year-old wood paneling and decorative plaster work. It had been culture shock, which of course he'd hidden beneath a brash and snarky exterior.

Now it haunted him for other reasons. Every time he ended up in rich surroundings like this, someone was using him for something.

Jay throttled that thought down and turned into the tree-lined drive. The garage door opened as he approached, and he parked his car – the Audi, for when he wanted to not be noticed in slightly nicer precincts than his own – in between Bruce's ridiculous playboy collection of sports cars.

Alfred met him at the door with a smile. "Master Jason, you are most welcome," he said warmly.

Now this, Alfred was the one person whose concern had never seemed false, and Jay felt himself grin in reply. "Yeah, let's hope I don't go sailing out of here on my ear," he joked. "Need to talk to B. Is he up here or in the Cave?"

"I believe he is in his study," Alfred said. "Shall I prepare lunch?"

"Nah, I doubt I'll be here long enough," Jay demurred, but he was still smiling as he headed up the stairs to Bruce's study.

Fancy bookshelves lined the walls, and the antique desk held a very modern computer, on which Bruce was glancing through stock quotes. He hadn't turned around when Jay arrived at the open door, but simply said, "Come in, Jay."

He was going to anyway, invited or not, so he took the other chair and dropped into it with false negligence. One thing you could say for the League of Shadows, once trained by _them_ , you never stopped thinking their way. Which meant he'd automatically noted the possible exits from this room, the places where a person could be hiding, the places where recording equipment might be concealed, and everything in the room that could possibly be used to attack or defend. He'd also noticed exactly how far he was sitting from Bruce, how long it would take the older man to turn and reach for him or to bring up a weapon, and decided that letting him walk up to his back was a calculated move on Bruce's part to show that he trusted Jay.

To an extent. Draw a blade or a gun, and the trust would go out the window, along with Jay himself a second later. The thought made him chuckle softly. Hell, he might go out the window anyway, the second he said he wanted to train Big Blue's baby girl.

"If I couldn't trust you at my back, you wouldn't be parking in the garage," Bruce said, and that startled a laugh out of Jay.

He _knew_ how it was done; Bruce couldn't read minds. But he'd been trained the same way by some of the same people, so when he heard that almost subvocal chuckle he had a pretty decent guess what Jay found funny in the situation. "Yeah, yeah, we can play who's more paranoid all day," Jay said. "Came to ask you something."

Bruce turned toward him, best damn poker face in town, and asked mildly, "What's that?"

Jay cocked his head, thoughtful. "Guess."

Bruce leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers together, more calculated body language making himself less ready to fight – showing trust. But Jay knew better. That pretty playboy face concealed a mind that whirred along faster than anyone he knew, except maybe Babs, and that race was too damn close to call. He let the silence hang, just looking at Jay, but he'd gotten the silent stare from spookier people than the Bat, and had no intention of spilling his guts.

Finally, Bruce spoke. "Kala was supposed to be on light patrol with Helena last night. She was late, but she left here on time. Barbara didn't dress her down for getting distracted, which means Barbara knew where she was. And you haven't asked me for anything since you returned to Gotham almost a year ago, but you sparred with Kala the other day."

Fuck it, he was too perceptive. "Yeah, and you have a shitty track record training the girls, which is why you're letting her go part-time to Babs and company. Not to mention she's a Super, and you admitted she's here to work on control. Let her train with me. I promise I won't break her." That last was sarcastic; he doubted he _could_ , sunlight diet or no.

Bruce arched an eyebrow. "Why?"

"So she doesn't get killed, or worse, driven crazy by this fucked-up freak show of a town," Jay spat back. "You saw her face when she realized what Mask was doing. People don't go around cutting the fucking livers out of homeless kids in Metropolis, Bruce. And if she's so arrogant and so touchy she'll break my damn nose from a hover just 'cause I ragged on her a little, she needs more than a little meditation and some taekwondo. Speaking of which, she needs a uniform. Why the hell isn't she in a Batsuit, Bruce?"

"She doesn't want to be one of us, the plan was never for her to become one of us, therefore she won't wear the symbol," Bruce said smoothly. "At her present level of power, even without sunlight, it doesn't matter what she wears."

Jay saw red. "She looks like fucking _bait_ , Bruce. Is that your play? You're letting the fuckers around here think she's some half-trained little … Goth Barbie, like the Titans think she is? I thought so, and I've got the foghorn voice to prove she _isn't_ ," he snapped, gesturing at his nose. "Shit, if Clark had any idea you were letting his little girl swan around town in goddamn _street clothes_ , he'd pitch your ass all the way into the Pacific."

"Clark trusts my judgment," Bruce said coolly.

"Yeah, Clark is Superman, he believes the best of everybody, which means if he wasn't bulletproof he'd be a fucking moron," Jay snarled.

"You don't know Clark," Bruce told him quietly. "You've barely met him. His powers are the least of what he is. And before you make a sarcastic remark about sunshine and happiness, remember who he married."

That gave Jay pause; Lois Lane was known and feared by the caped set long before it came out that she was married to Superman's secret identity. Mad Dog Lane would never give up on a story, and all of them had hoped fervently that she'd never decide to earn another Pulitzer by exposing any of _them_. Of course, when it came out just what motivated her, they all knew Lois was more for protecting heroes than outing them, but she was just as scarily ruthless doing so as anyone had ever feared. Hell, even Babs spoke of her with cautious respect.

While he considered that, Bruce continued, "If you had thought of that before you decided to spar with Kala, you wouldn't have been surprised by her. In terms of temperament, she is much more Lois' daughter than Clark's."

"Point taken," Jay shot back. "Still, she needs to know what this city _really_ is, and she needs someone who'll tell her to ditch that fucking trench coat before it gets her killed. If it's her temper you're worried about, I'm the poster boy for anger management."

"Are you?" Bruce asked, eyebrows rising.

"Your ass is still alive, right?" Jay snarled, and fuck, the bastard had gotten under his skin again. He took a deep breath and controlled himself. "Look. I already asked K, and she agreed, pending _your_ approval. Can't go behind Papa Super's best buddy's back. I'm not gonna teach her how to make bombs or how much pressure to put in a wrist lock to break it. But I was trained by the same people who taught you. I know what she needs to know."

"Do you know how to teach it, though?" Bruce asked, and it was a question, not a challenge.

Because of that, Jay responded honestly. "Did you? Teaching Dick and Babs? Hell, did Babs know, taking Helena or Cass under her wing? Lemme find out. Worst case scenario, she decides to stay the fuck out of this hellhole. Which, let's be real, is what all of us want. You damn sure don't want Supers in your town. They're too shiny for this shit."

Bruce only looked at him for a long moment. "That's hardly the worst case scenario. Fine. If Kala already agreed, you can take over her training. Keep Babs and me informed when you take her on patrol, and if you don't need her, send her to one of us."

Jay sat back, shocked. He'd expected to have to fight this out, and for Bruce to ultimately refuse, whereupon he'd have to work on Kala to sneak out and come with him, or recruit Babs to his side. But Bruce just said sure, and handed over her training like it was no more important than remembering to water the plants in the solarium.

And there was no angle that Jay could see for why he'd do it. Unless he _really_ trusted Jay as much as all his little tells and cues where trying to prove, and if _that_ was true, the big bad Bat was going fucking senile. More likely, there was something here Jay was missing.

"Fine," he said, nonplussed. "I'm not going easy on her, Bruce. No more sun, and she needs to know how to take a hit."

"That's acceptable," Bruce replied. "I trust you not to abuse your position as her trainer. You're hitting her to teach her, not to settle the score, and I know that you know that. If I thought you'd try to make it personal, I wouldn't let her near you – for _your_ sake, not hers. Aside from that, do _not_ use kryptonite without my direct supervision."

He was being awfully emphatic about that. "I heard you used kryptonite to train the brother," Jay said, prodding for some kind of reaction.

Bruce gave a fleeting smile. "Jason Kent needed to know he could withstand it. His sister already does. Have you seen her file?"

In point of fact, he had. "Yeah, but I decided not to hack around Babs' extra special lockdown on whatever this Nevada protocol is," he said.

"Suffice it to say, you do not want us to have to activate that protocol. Kryptonite is off the table. Kala is a quick student, and resilient. I'm sure she can handle some accelerated training at your hands."

"Okay then." Jay said it casually, still trying to figure out what Bruce's angle was. The older man nodded, and Jay got up and left, already puzzling over what his _curriculum_ should be. Shit, his own advanced training had taken years, and he knew now that a lot of it was meant to stall him rather than prepare him. Where would he _start_ , with Kala?

A summer was nowhere near long enough to _really_ train someone, but hell, she was a Kryptonian. One thing Kala was right about, most of the time in the field she was going to be damn near unstoppable. He was only training her for contingencies, and to give her the experience and judgment to shut up anyone who thought she was just a pretty thing with powers.

And if she couldn't hack it, if she needed to cry off from getting her ass kicked by someone who didn't pull punches because he didn't want to mark up that pretty face, well, she could go home. Metropolis was a better city for her than Gotham. She should've stayed there, but if she wanted to play in Gotham, she'd have to play by _Jay's_ rules.

Down the stairs, and he was so distracted both by Bruce's unexpected agreement and the question of _what_ exactly he should be teaching, not to mention when and how, that he let himself be swayed by Alfred offering him a giant club sandwich.

…

Bruce leaned back, thinking. He was playing a very, very dangerous game here, but he believed he'd made the right choice.

Kala was not an amateur, or a dilettante as Jay suspected. The kind of stepped-up training Jay would offer – no holds barred, no mercy, pushed to the limit because what you did when you went past your limits was the only thing that mattered – was what Kala needed. Finding her limits and surpassing them was the real reason she was here, but she wouldn't get it from Dick or Tim. Or even Babs and Dinah. Bruce himself thought he could push her there, though it would hurt him to do so, remembering the girl she'd been and the wounded young woman in Nevada.

But pity killed, in their line of work. If he went easy on her, he'd be signing her death warrant. He'd made that mistake once, trying to bring someone along gently, and Gotham had laughed and shown no mercy, as Gotham always did. This city demanded blood and pain, he knew that better than most, but Jay knew it better than he did.

That was what she needed. And what Jay needed right now was a student. He'd surpassed the level of training available to most of the caped crowd, and all he needed to learn now he would discover best in the process of teaching someone else. Not to mention, Kala had gotten him back to the Manor _twice_ now. Training her, seeing that he _could_ be one of them again, might finally break down the wall he'd built around himself.

So it _was_ best for everyone that Jay train her, as long as he didn't let his ego get in front of his knowledge and try to chase her off. If he let it slip, if he struck her out of personal revenge instead of actual fighting education, then Kala would take it personally, too. And a broken nose would be the least of Jay's worries.

Bruce let out a sigh and rubbed his temples. Barbara was going to be furious, he suspected. She might even give Jay access to the documentation in the Nevada protocol, and if he was smart, that would make him drop Kala right back on the Manor doorstep and treat her with cautious respect thereafter.

Or … no. Jay could be motivated by fear, but he stepped up, never away. If he had any idea that Bruce had just handed him the living equivalent of a nuclear weapon to train, he'd be fascinated. And he'd try to figure out how Kala's mind worked. If he pushed hard enough to break down her control and bring out the darkest shadows in her soul, well…

The _worst_ case scenario was Kala decided to burn down half of Gotham, and every villain in it. And then Bruce himself would have to stop her, using means that would keep her father and brother out of the fight, and he'd already had one angry child try to take his life for not allowing them to cleanse the city as they saw fit.

It could come out right – it _should_ come out right. There were enough similarities in the pair of them that they could bring out the best in each other. Kala was a lot further from her shadow self than Jay had ever been. She wouldn't turn easily, and if she started to, he could call in her father before it got too far. As long as she wasn't made to believe her actual life was in danger, as she would with kryptonite, she wouldn't need to rely on her darkness. Even if Jay pushed it too far, she could always walk away and resume training with the Bats and Birds.

It would come out right.

Or it would be Bruce's fault, if it didn't, and he'd have to carry that.

…

Later that day, Barbara answered the secure line, greeted Bruce, and listened to what he had to say with steadily climbing eyebrows. She waited to reply though, parsing through the same potential pitfalls and possibilities he had. So she didn't just yell at him for being an idiot, though she wanted to.

Instead she gave a sigh, and told him, "You do realize, if this turns out the way you're hoping, they're going to completely change the way people in this community think of the World's Finest." That had always meant Clark and Bruce, but Jason Kent and Tim were another Super and Bat who worked together, bringing their particular combination of powers and training into play.

Kala and _Jay_ working together? The two loose cannons of their respective families? The Bat who'd gone rogue and done it so well not even Batman himself could stop him, and the Super who had her very own triple-encrypted locked file on how to take her down, and what might make that necessary?

As if reading her mind – why would he need to, when he'd been the one to train it so thoroughly? – Bruce said, "Don't give him the Nevada protocol."

Babs bit off a curse. "You're letting him train her _blind?!"_

"If he knew the potential was there, he wouldn't be able to help himself from exploring it," Bruce told her. "He knows there's _something_ , and he knows not to use kryptonite. Hopefully that will inspire a little caution."

"A little knowledge is worse than too much. He'll be curious anyway, it's what he _is._ And if you're wrong, you're risking his life," Babs said coldly.

"It's going to take a lot more than being cuffed around to set her off," Bruce replied. "She's afraid of her darkness. And even if he does wake that in her, Hood has dealt with more dangerous people than Blur. He should have the sense to get himself out of it."

Babs guessed who had overseen Jay's deadly training, and curled her lip in a sneer. "You love taking risks. Fine, you know him better than I do. If you think he'll be sensible, when he's _never_ been sensible about anything he knows is dangerous, then let it be."

"He doesn't quite realize how dangerous she is," Bruce replied. "And by the time he realizes it, she should be low enough on sunlight to be less than instantly lethal."

"You hope," Babs said acidly. "For what it's worth, I hope training her _does_ bring him back into the fold. I also hope they don't both realize that you're playing them against each other. The last time one of mine realized you were using her, she set off a city-wide riot."

"Blur is not yours," Bruce said harshly. "And Spoiler wasn't ready."

"You put her in the Robin costume. If my next _Batgirl_ wasn't ready then, that's on you," Babs shot back. "And everyone knows the girls in Gotham are mine."

"Blur's father gave her to me to train. I let you take her part-time out of courtesy and respect for your particular skill set," Bruce said. "Besides, Blue wouldn't have asked you. He knows, as everyone does, that you tend to recruit your own people."

 _And I do it in defiance of you, when I have to,_ Babs thought, nettled. "If Blue had asked anyone _except_ you, she would've come to me first. I didn't take her from you outright because of the same respect for your skills. I won't let you hand her completely over to him."

"Take it up with her," Bruce said. "He asked her first, and she agreed. Evidently she recognizes the need for a steeper learning curve than either of us have given her."

Babs growled at him. Of _course_ she said yes. Babs had heard about the sparring session that ended with Jay's nose broken, and of course Kala had asked her if she could come to patrol late to meet with him. It wouldn't have been an apology for underestimating her, Jay no more apologized than the people who'd trained him, but he'd had something to say to her and he'd picked a public enough meeting place that Babs felt comfortable letting her go unsupervised. She should've guessed that he would want to train her.

The urge to teach was strong, for people of their caliber who'd learned so many things the hard way. And in Jay, it was compounded by the need to chase Kala off, to run her out of the city before she could be crushed by it, the way Jay himself as well as Babs and Steph had been. The difference was, Babs didn't see herself as broken. Gotham was a crucible that had made her _stronger_. Batgirl had been feared all over Gotham, but Oracle was respected by _everyone_ in the League and the Titans, and feared by _all_ their enemies the world over.

Still, when he offered, Kala would've agreed no matter _what_ she thought she needed. She saw him as an antagonist, and she _never_ backed down from a challenge. Jay had needled her from the moment they crossed paths, taking exception to the intrusion of a Super into his city. Hell, as soon as Blur made her second takedown in Gotham, he'd pulled up her file and started nosing around for more info.

Did he know yet that having access to Oracle's database meant she had reciprocal access to his hard drives? Or that connecting to it activated a keylogger that kept track of everything he typed or clicked on his terminal? Probably not. If he did know, she'd likely get a pile of broken computer parts delivered to her door, and he'd hack his way in afterward. Oh well, she had traps laid for anyone who hacked in, and she could supervise him for quite some time while he _thought_ he was subverting her security.

But oh, if Bruce was right … it could end up just about perfect. Maybe this would be what Jay needed to finally heave the chip off his shoulder and let down his guard long enough to really understand that they _forgave_ him. That what they were waiting on was _his_ forgiveness, for the wrongs they all knew they'd done to him. They weren't just tolerating him because they couldn't run him off, they _wanted_ him in Gotham, even Dick who worried himself sick and Tim who took the pessimistic view of everything.

And Kala, who rightly feared herself, if anyone could root out that fear and bring her up to the level she should've been on all along, even Babs had to admit Jay could do that very well. He was more likely to be fascinated than afraid, and he _couldn't_ judge her the way some others might. There was a darkness in Jay too, less of a clear divide than hers, but he had waded in blood and still come out mostly _not_ murdering the enemy, these days. If anyone could show her how to tame the rage that came from being helpless in the hands of her own personal nightmare, then he could.

"You're still an ass for taking this much of a risk," she said, and was answered by a dial tone. Typical Bruce.

Babs scoffed. Let him take all the risks he wanted; she'd be the one taking out insurance against the worst of it. Starting with a little closer look at Jay's operation. He had a wall-mounted comm unit in his bunker, just in case he damaged his main comm; and he'd taken the thing apart when she sent it to him, so she was glad she hadn't packed it with micro-robotic bugs programmed to seed themselves around the place.

If she wanted eyes on him, she was going to have to enlist some help. Babs dialed a number, and waiting through four rings before it was answered by a woman's husky voice. Almost a purr, really, and the thought made her smile.

"Selina. Are you up for a commission? I've got the ultimate B & E…"


	16. Readjustment Period

First day of training. Jay had never actually taken a student before, but he didn't really expect Kala to last more than a couple lessons. No matter what she'd said in the bar, he couldn't quite believe that the Kryptonian had the grit to stick through _his_ kind of training. After all, unlike the rest of the clan, when Jay sparred, he gave it his all. He could play the villain better than any of them. Not only had he been trained by them, he'd _been_ one of the bad guys.

Kala showed up ten minutes early, and as he let her into the bunker, Jay found himself grudgingly approving. She hadn't come in that ridiculous uniform; no, she was wearing sparring clothes: a t-shirt and slacks loose enough to offer freedom of movement, but fitted enough that they wouldn't give him good handholds. And her hair was up in a bun, too, another easy hold denied. So far, so good. "Here I am," she said lightly. "What's on the curriculum today, sensei?"

Jay's mouth quirked up in a grin. "How much martial arts training have you actually had?" he asked.

To his surprise, she actually had a technical answer. "I had a blue belt in Seidō juku when I was thirteen. That's seventh Kyu. I would've stayed in, but Jason and I were coming into our powers and it was too risky to let us keep training before we perfected our control. And from what I understand, what Bruce and the boys have been giving me is mostly Taekwondo with a little judo on the side."

He nodded, mildly impressed. "All right then. So, I'm not a purist. My style's mostly Hapkido, which is eclectic itself, but I've been trained in a lot of different martial arts. You can't be a purist on the street, not if you wanna live. I figured I'd show you some moves and then we'd practice them sparring. Sound good?"

"Sounds about like I expected," she replied with a grin.

Grinning back, he replied, "Yeah, but I don't spar like Dickie-bird and Timmy. A lot of my trainers were women, so I don't pull punches just because you're a girl."

Kala just rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Bring it, Hood. So long as I don't actually have to call you sensei or anything."

"I don't give a damn what you call me," he told her.

"Good," she retorted, glaring blackly at him. Evidently she thought the thing about not pulling punches was just him being a dick. Well, fine. If she couldn't handle a full-force punch—or a dozen—she had no business fighting crime in this town.

She did have moxie, he had to give her that, and she followed him into his training area. Not as fancy as Bruce's, of course, but all they needed was open space and clean mats on the floors.

Jay went over the basic repertoire of kicks and strikes, and Kala followed easily enough. She had the natural grace he expected from a dancer, and she already knew most of the beginning moves. So he went on to defenses, seeing how many techniques she knew for escaping from various grabs and how many ways she could block a punch or kick. All at half-tempo and less than half-strength, just to get a feel for her knowledge.

And … she wasn't bad. Not on par with the people who'd trained him, sure, but better than he'd expected, even without using her powers. "Not bad," he said aloud, trying to decide which moves he'd teach her today. Kala didn't seem to have many joint locks in her repertoire, so he'd start with that.

"Not bad, huh? That's the highest praise I've gotten from you, Hood. Be still my heart." Kala bared her teeth in a shark-like smile, her eyes agleam with mischief. Obviously she was warmed up and ready to play.

So was he. "All right then. So let's teach you a couple things. C'mere, I'll show you another way to get out of having your arm grabbed." Jay dropped into a casual stance, ready for her attack.

The slightest hint of hesitation, calculation, and then she moved in, simple and straightforward. Good, in this case, since he was just showing her a technique. Jay moved his arm through a circle to break her grip, and caught her wrist in his other hand, locking that joint. Before she could retaliate, he used the other forearm against her elbow—not fast, as they were only training, but with her wrist immobilized Kala couldn't resist the pressure on her elbow, and he took her down to the mat.

She blinked in surprise, and said, "Smooth. Why the forearm instead of the other hand?"

Jay let her up—she rolled gracefully to her feet like a damn cat—and replied, "The leverage is different. Hapkido uses a lot of elbow locks like that. Do it hard enough, you can separate the joint."

After that it was all technique, and Jay found he only had to demonstrate something once or twice at half-speed for Kala to pick it up. Her form might not be perfect, and he had to correct some positioning, but the function worked pretty well when she attempted the same holds and locks on him. He even got around to teaching her a few handy nerve strikes.

Now for the fun part. "How much sparring have you been doing?" Jay asked, keeping his voice casual.

"As much as I can get," Kala replied.

"Against the boys?"

"Against Bruce, too, sometimes. Also Babs set me against Dinah and Helena, and Babs herself kicked my butt pretty thoroughly one time." Kala shrugged her shoulders, knowing what was coming. Or thinking she did.

"All right then. I'm a little different." And saying that, he lunged.

This wasn't like their sparring session a few days ago that had netted him a broken nose. This time, Jay knew more about her style and her preferences. Kala liked to keep distance between herself and her opponent, dart in for a strike and dart back out again. If he let her get enough distance, he'd be chasing her all over the room.

So he took away her advantage from the first moment, closing in. Jay preferred to fight up close, when he could. His size and weight were an advantage, and he could take a lot of hits before it really had any effect. Meanwhile he could simply batter an enemy to the ground.

His first blow was nothing fancy, no martial arts, just a feint at her throat and a straight fist to the gut. Nothing held back. No matter what he'd told her, part of him hating striking a woman like this; there was a part of Jay that always wanted to protect women and kids, even if he had ample evidence that women could be deadlier than men. He would've known that from spending four years around Talia, if nothing else. Pulling a punch against someone of _her_ caliber was as good as surrendering. Not that he'd ever sparred with her, but he'd seen what happened when opponents underestimated the Daughter of the Demon – mostly, they died.

Kala barely had time to tense her gut, and wasn't able to lessen the blow much. Jay expected her to crumple up around his fist, and the pain _was_ obvious in her expression, but she didn't fold. In fact she lashed out, her elbow connecting with his jaw, and Jay saw stars for a few seconds.

Not that that stopped him. He just put his head down, protecting his throat, and bore in. Almost straight-up boxing, heavy body blows designed to hammer her into submission, a reminder that she really shouldn't let someone with his kind of weight advantage get that close. Kala fought back, grabbing his hand and getting one of the wrist locks he'd just shown her. She followed up with a nerve strike at his elbow and a kick to the back of the leg that brought him to one knee.

Smart. She put new techniques right into use, she could combine them, and she could improvise. All good stuff, and Jay felt his respect for her rising, however grudgingly. Kala certainly had the makings of a decent fighter. The question was, did she have it in her to do it _here_ , in one of the darkest cities in the world?

He'd find out soon. Jay was going down, with the hold she had on him, but he brought her with him by catching a fistful of her shirt. Dragging her down to his level made head-butting her easy, and that stunned her for a few seconds. She didn't cry off, though, not even when Jay didn't stop, taking advantage of her momentary immobility to put her in an elbow lock.

Kala retaliated then, tactics no martial arts school ever taught, and bit his hand. _Hard_. Probably broke the skin even through his glove. Yanking it out of her range gave her leverage to roll away, and when Jay grabbed for her she hit him with a knifehand strike to the shoulder, one Bruce and company must've taught her.

On their feet again and he bore in, Kala giving ground again and again to keep him off. He soon had her backed almost to the wall, and moved like lightning to strike at a nerve-cluster in her shoulder that made her gasp. Those lovely hazel eyes went wide with shock and pain, and Jay's stomach roiled. No, this was no fun at all, beating the crap out of a pretty girl; it had to be done, but he damn sure didn't like it.

He must've hesitated, because she got in an elbow to his jaw, delivered with a snarl of anger. That helped Jay remember why he was doing this. Scaring her out of Gotham—or teaching her to be a better fighter—was worth a little pain now. They moved through a flurry of strikes and parries, her eyes blazing as she managed to hold him off.

So he rushed her, body-slammed her against the concrete wall, and grabbed her throat in preparation to smack her head backwards. Kala was having none of it though, and hiked her knee sharply into his groin. It hurt, even through the cup, enough that he let out a strangled groan, his grip loosening at her throat.

She was trying to follow up with a punch to the gut and a heavy stomp to the instep, but he'd used that combo often enough to expect it. Well, the best defense was a good offense. Jay caught her nipple between his knuckles and twisted it, hard.

The next thing he knew, he was lying on his back with plaster fragments drifting through the air. "Goddammit! _Sonofabitch_ that hurts!" Kala shrieked. He blinked, staring upward and trying to reconstruct the last couple of seconds. Obviously Kala had thrown him; she did have some super-strength left, after all. The plaster was from where he'd hit the opposite wall and, he now saw, from where she'd evidently hit the ceiling leaping away from him.

Kala glared at him, and Jay got slowly to his feet. "Okay, so let's just say we take the groin-kick and the purple nurple off the table, right? We've both got more technique than that."

"You're a dick," she growled.

"Yeah, and I'd be a bruised one if I wasn't wearing a cup," he shot back.

Kala laughed snidely. "Fine. No low blows. I don't need 'em." With that she was across the room and on the attack again.

Jay liked that spirit, but that didn't mean he wanted to get flattened, so he snared her wrist with the chain hidden up his sleeve and hauled her close. She actually managed to pull off a flying elbow lock, using his own chain as a hold to catch his wrist and then dropping him to the ground. Unfortunately, ground-fighting was one of the things he'd spent two months perfecting, back in the day, and he had a hundred pounds on her. Jay wrestled until he got loose of the elbow lock, and then grappled her around until he got both arms behind her back. Dropping his full weight on her, he was confident he had her pinned.

Misplaced confidence. Kala's flight allowed her to lift them both up and roll over, dropping back down so Jay was under her. He still held her arms, but she could kick his shins, and any second now she'd get leverage to drive her heel into his knee. Not good, not if she was using super-strength.

Luckily for him, her wrists were slender enough that he could hold both in one hand, and he snaked the other arm around her throat. She fought harder at the compression of her neck, but Jay already knew he was going to choke her unconscious if he could. No better way for her to learn exactly how much time she had before passing out, if this ever happened for real.

Kala struggled with all the strength that was in her, and Jay almost couldn't hold on. He didn't dare let go with either hand; if Kala got loose now, she'd probably unload on him with everything she had, powers and all.

She bucked and flailed and battered the hell out him with her heels, but in twenty seconds or so—twice as long as it should've taken—she went limp. Jay immediately released her, moving to place her in recovery position. He knelt by her side, his fingers on her pulse, _carefully_. Any moment she'd wake up…

Her eyelids fluttered, and Jay took a big step back. Wise, because she exploded to her feet and whirled on him, hands in guard position, panting for breath. He stepped back further, raising his hands. "Okay, so, I see a couple things we can work on," Jay said levelly.

"Do you now?" she rasped viciously. Talk about 'if looks could kill', he was pretty sure he saw a spark of red in her eyes. Heat vision? Shit, he had to look out for that too.

"I need to show you a couple blocks and ways to get out of those holds," he said. "The chokehold has a really nice transition, if anyone tries it standing up. Do it right and you can throw your opponent."

Kala's eyes narrowed, and Jay knew what was running through her head: how come he wasn't _mad_? He'd been throwing her around, hurting her, so how could he do that and then be so calm afterward? _It's a gift, kiddo,_ he thought. _This isn't real violence, this is just sparring. Difference is, my idea of sparring is a whole lot closer to reality than Golden Boy's._

He expected her to fly off the handle and attack him, or stomp out in a fury, but she did neither. Instead Kala shook herself like a dog throwing off water, and came toward him slowly. "Fine, then. Show me how to transition the chokehold."

Surprised—and still cautious, she was pissed and he knew it—Jay set about showing her.

…

Kala dragged home too late for rounds, but the boys still weren't letting her go anyway, so it didn't matter. Hopefully she'd miss the lot of them and be able to curl up and sleep off the exhaustion. It felt like her first week in Gotham all over again; every time she thought she was in shape and up to par, she found out otherwise.

The cab dropped her off at the Manor and Kala trudged up the long driveway to the house. All she wanted was a long hot bath, a nap, and then dinner, possibly followed by a phone call home or just bed. The idea of taking her nap _in_ the bath even sounded promising.

She went in the side door, however, to see Dick and Tim both in the kitchen. They should've been out on rounds, and Kala could only blink at them. "Holy…" Dick muttered, coming toward her with a worried expression. "Kala, what the heck did he _do_ to you?"

Only then did she realize how she must've looked: her hair mussed, her face probably bruised, and more telling to a houseful of martial artists, her every movement speaking of weariness. "Found a bunch of holes in my guard," she said tiredly, trying to smile.

Tim was scowling. "Do you know you have a black eye?"

"Yeah," she lied. "Gotta remember to block high _and_ low. He's faster than he looks."

"There's a difference between training and beating the snot out of someone," Dick said, his mouth thinned down to a stern line.

"Guys, come on," Kala said, rallying. The last thing she needed was these two overprotective boys interfering. "This is just sparring. _Babs_ kicked my ass harder. She just didn't go for the face."

Tim didn't look mollified at all. "You look like you've been through the wringer. And Bruce will want you to work out with us in the morning."

"I should be healed up by then," Kala said, missing the days when these injuries wouldn't even have shown up. But a night's rest would let her Kryptonian metabolism heal them. She forced a chuckle. "I should probably get Alfred to make me some soup, and just go live in the bathtub for a while."

Dick sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Kala, if you need a break, or you need him to lay off…"

She didn't let him finish. "Are those guys on the street gonna lay off, Dick? Are they gonna give me a break? I don't think so. And if I'm ever caught without my powers, I'd damn well better know how to handle a fight. I'm _fine_."

Neither of them looked convinced, but Kala bulled on past and headed upstairs. She honestly didn't have time or energy for this. And it didn't help that she was embarrassed at having been beaten so badly. Jay had said he was better than she was, and she hadn't believed him. Now that he'd proved it, and left marks of that proof all over her, she could only feel chagrined.

Fifteen minutes later, soaking in the tub, she heard a knock on the door. Kala threw a towel around herself and opened the bathroom door to find soup, a sandwich, and a drink, all resting on a tray designed to fit over the edges of the bathtub. "Bless you, Alfred," she murmured, and retreated back to the tub.

…

It had been weeks since Red Hood – Julio couldn't think of him as Big Tommy – had left, and the money was finally running low. The other kids were happy to stay in and off the street, especially with a new rash of disappearances going down. Some kids were even taken right out of their flops. It worried Julio, but there were enough of them hunkered down her that hopefully no one would try anything.

He'd just about gotten to the point of going out again, when the doorbell rang. Carl was right there beside him, holding a golf club ready to swing, and he picked up the bat inside the door. Still, neither of them opened it, just peered through the peephole.

Outside was a blonde woman, not looking like a threat. She knocked again, and called out, "Pizza delivery!"

"Nobody ordered pizza," Julio called back, making his voice as deep as he could.

"Says here Tommy ordered it," the woman replied, and Carl sniffed. Julio did too; there wasn't any weather-stripping around that door, they could both smell pizza. And it smelled damned good.

What the hell, he opened the door, holding the bat off to one side and trying to look intimidating. The blonde stepped in with a cheerful smile, carrying one of those big insulated bags, and the rest of the kids turned up rapidly. She set it down and opened it up, saying, "One cheese, three pepperoni, one sausage, two meatlovers, two supreme, plus two orders of bread sticks and two giant brownies. Oh, and drinks – Pepsi, Mountain Dew, and Dr. Pepper, two of each. That sound good?"

"Yeah," Julio said, his stomach growling. "Tommy paid for this?"

"He did. And you don't have to tip me, either. As a matter of fact, he sent the pizza to get you to open the door for me. He said you'd be needing this about now." With that, she shrugged a small backpack off her shoulder and handed it over.

More cash, and Julio looked back up at her. "You know Tommy, huh?"

She smirked a little. "You could say we're coworkers. He wanted me to make sure you're all okay. We've got a little discreet surveillance, nothing close enough to draw attention to you."

"We're fine," Carl said, as the rest of the kids ignored the woman to launch at the pizza. "Is he okay?"

The woman chuckled. "As fine as he can be, until we get Black Mask shut down again. He also told me to tell you guys, we have resources. If anybody needs to go to the doctor, there's a free clinic where you're guaranteed to be treated confidentially. And if anybody wants to go back to school, I can hook you up with laptops and online courses. Since you're laying low, it might be time to work on a diploma."

"Real charitable of him," Julio said quietly.

The blonde shrugged. "You want out of this life, education's the way to do it. Nobody's gonna try and turn you in to social services. That's a crapshoot in the best of cities, and Gotham's overworked. But we can help you. I've got a friend with some serious computer skills, she can get you college courses if you want. Or trade school, if you like that better. It beats the hell out of stealing tires for a living."

She grinned at that, and Carl frowned a little. "None of us steal tires," Carl said.

"No, but he used to," the blonde chuckled. "Anyway, here's a phone with my number already in it. You need anything, call. And if you hear anything about these kids disappearing, call me for that too. I'll pass it on to him."

"Sure," Julio said, taking the phone. He needed to get her out of here and get to eating before the rest devoured everything. "You got a name?"

"Dinah," she said, and stuck out her hand. "You must be Julio, he told me you were the one in charge. Nice to meet you."

The weirdest thing was, she sounded _sincere_ about it.

…

Over the next two weeks, Kala's life followed a predictable pattern. She woke up in the morning and worked out with Bruce and the boys, which loosened up her stiff muscles and got her warmed up for the afternoon. Then she went over to Jay's place and spent an hour or two learning new moves. Nerve strikes, blocks, all sorts of fancy moves designed to put an opponent on the ground as fast as possible.

And then she spent forty-five minutes or an hour getting her ass kicked.

With her only sun exposure being the cab rides back and forth, her powers swiftly waned. Blows that would leave no mark one day would bruise the next, and her energy dropped. She still had superhuman speed, but not as much as she used to, and her strength and flight were utterly gone.

Still, she hung on doggedly, because she _was_ learning with Jay. Every day she got faster and better at incorporating new techniques. And every day he tested her harder. How much of that was her fading powers, and how much was him ramping up the pressure, Kala didn't quite know. Feeling the drain drove her to the edge of panic; of the twins, Kala had always been the one to bask daily, keeping her powers topped-up at all times.

She felt worn down, almost like she was perpetually on the verge of getting a cold. Yet Kala made herself struggle through it, even when she was dragging home each night in pure exhaustion. Jason had done much the same during his training, and he'd lost his powers for a while; she couldn't chicken out. The few nights a week when Babs claimed her for rigorous sparring against Huntress or Black Canary were a relief.

And then came a night when Jay just didn't let up. She hadn't realized until then that he'd actually been _holding back_ the whole time, but his fists and elbows were particularly vicious, and she lost the rhythm of the fight, scrambling just to defend herself. In that disorganized state, he dropped her to the mat in seconds, her vision going gray, blood filling her mouth.

He stepped back then; she could hear him breathing harshly to her left. Kala panted, dragging together what reserves of strength remained, and then hauled herself to her feet as smoothly as she could. Jay came at her immediately, but being knocked down had actually let her regroup, and she got in a nerve strike to one arm that at least slowed him down. Still, she went home that night with a couple loose teeth and both eyes blackened.

As she soaked that night in the tub, looking at the multicolored bruises on her arms and legs and belly, Kala wondered if this was worth it. She could throw in the towel anytime, go back to training with the Bats and Birds, and for someone who only wanted to be a part-time hero, that ought to be good enough.

Part of her wanted to hang it up. Right below her ribcage was a perfect, purple imprint of Jay's knuckles, the blow that had driven her to her knees. She'd wanted to cry when he hit her like that, forcing all the air out of her, her legs buckling like she was a marionette whose strings had just been cut. But she would _not_ cry in front of him, and she wouldn't beg off, either. No, Kala had signed up for this, and she was going to stick it through. Even if it half-killed her.

…

To Jay's surprise, training was … well, _fun_. Mostly, anyway. Beating the crap out of her wasn't fun, but showing her techniques, watching her improve every day, that was damn near addictive. Kala kept up with him, she learned faster than _he_ had back in the day, and she didn't get her nose out of joint when she lost. Which, she was losing a lot while they sparred. That was only to be expected, she was still a trainee and he was on par with professional mercenaries and assassins. Fighting to survive was his top skill, something he'd been doing since he was a child.

It was mostly a mind-set, not specific training routines. Survive at any costs, do whatever it takes to get through the fight or the night, take any advantage, know your real physical limits and not just what you _think_ you can handle. Most people took years to come to that level, and despite being a quick study, he figured Kala was the same. She was a lot younger than him – oh, they were only two years apart, but he'd stopped being a kid around age twelve and she'd had a normal family, a normal life, for a whole lot longer.

Sometimes he browsed through her parents' news stories, looked up the information about them online, and wondered what it was like to have a functioning family. Not this 'we're not talking about the time you almost killed your little brother, so that means we've forgiven you' crap. Not Babs trying to slip in a little sisterly concern along with the cookies. A real family, blood and choice, people who'd go to hell and back for you.

Jay was the only one who'd gone to hell. And it wasn't too much of a surprise that none of them had followed him there.

The more he hung around the fringes, showing up for breakfast occasionally – and ignoring Dick's scowling looks, since big brother evidently didn't approve of beating the crap out of his girl – the more Jay began to suspect that they really hadn't known. He'd always assumed that they had to have at least guessed, they should've looked a little harder, but they were all too busy holding their breath and hoping he'd stick around. Even _Bruce_ looked happy to have him at breakfast. And there were a lot of reasons why Bruce should hate the sight of him.

Well, one thing Jay was sure Bruce didn't know, was about Talia. The family might've guessed that his return, in perfect health with no scars from the beating and the explosion, _had_ to go back to the al Ghuls and the fucking Lazarus Pit. Bruce might've been smart enough to realize it was Talia, not Ra's, who'd chucked him into it. But Jay was pretty sure Bruce _didn't_ know the two of them had slept together, because he really doubted Daddy Bats would let him step foot in the Manor if he did.

Whatever, he knew what Talia was now, and if Bruce was still too swayed by her to realize how goddamn ruthless she was, it was his own fault. Jay wasn't gonna be anyone's pet project. Ever.

No way in hell was he talking to any of _them_ about what had really happened and how he'd come back. The status quo was good enough. He was back in Gotham, he was sane enough not to murder them all in their beds, and he was training Kala. Who might come home bruised up, but she still had enough sass the morning after to whisper 'fork of justice' whenever he eyed her plate. Hell, he was starting to _like_ her.

And that made training her all the more important. Jay was starting to feel a touch of desperation. She'd told him she was only here through the summer, so he didn't have _that_ long to get through to her. By the way she brightened up whenever anyone mentioned taking her on patrol, Kala _still_ thought this was a game. He had to step up his training, had to crack that ill-placed confidence, before they went up against Black Mask again.

 _Had_ to.


	17. Better than None

**Authors' Note:** This chapter contains significant violence, of the beating-the-hell-out-of-each-other-while-sparring variety. It was not easy to write, but this is where the characters and plot led us. If you find that sort of thing triggering, this is your warning not to read further.

That said, the chapter ends on a better note. We couldn't leave it where we originally meant to end off.

Also, a quick thank you to breejah0923 for inspiring a bit of dialogue toward the end. :)

…

Every night, Jay looked surprised to see her, like he expected her to quit after the previous night's beating. For that reason if no other, Kala kept showing up; she wasn't going to have him rag on her at breakfast for wussing out. And he came to breakfast, once or twice a week, despite getting a chilly reception from Dick and mostly silence from Tim. Kala was the only one who snarked at him, proving to the others that her spirit wasn't broken. One thing she had to say for Jay, he never taunted her about the night before, never brought up her weaknesses or failures at the table. They kept their discussions to business, whether Wayne or Bat, and general conversation.

Every night they ran through their usual practice, adding more moves to her repertoire, polishing the ones she had. That part, Kala was good at – really good, and she saw it in his eyes. But then the sparring began, always harder than the night before. She couldn't get arrogant, though it was her nature to try, to snap back at him in sharp temper. The proof was in the bruises, and though he ended each night with plenty of his own, she always had more. He was just too damn good. That was the pattern, night after night, week after week, only occasionally taking a night off to patrol with the Bats or Birds. _They_ remarked on her growing skills, and even Bruce gave her an approving nod once in a while.

Even so, _this_ night was different. If he'd been tough yesterday, tonight he was brutal. Kala hit the mat three times in the first twenty minutes, each time rolling to her feet again; she'd learned very well how to recover from a fall and transition into an attack or defense.

Jay was relentless. He hit her with nerve strikes that would numb out a whole limb, forcing her to fall back and fight defensively while she waited for feeling to come back. He struck her upside the head, making her vision blur and her ears ring. He drove her around the practice area again and again, forcing her to give ground, until Kala was weary and stumbling.

Still, she refused to give up. Not even when he knocked her down and she couldn't get her balance enough to rise. Jay waited, silent and implacable, as Kala struggled to her hands and knees and then pitched forward again.

She grayed out then, on the verge of completely losing consciousness. It would be so easy to just lie down and let go…

 _ **No.**_ _You are_ _ **not**_ _this weak. You will_ _ **not**_ _be defeated by this arrogant bastard. He_ _ **wants**_ _you to quit, he wants you to prove he was_ _ **right**_ _. Get up … or get out of Gotham._ That was her own voice, colder and harder than Kala ever spoke. What she called the Empress, the remnant of her splintered psyche left behind by General Zod's manipulation, tended to make an appearance in moments of desperation, lending Kala the strength and bitter determination to survive. That part of her would never, _ever_ be backed into a corner again.

With her darkest self spurring her on, Kala lunged to her feet … and to the attack. Her sheer ferocity seemed to stun Jay, driving him backward under a flurry of blows that were powerful enough to make up for the loss of accuracy caused by her exhaustion. For the first time in their sparring, Jay had to seriously defend himself, and still ended up with a bloody mouth and sore ribs.

Soon enough, though, he adapted, meeting her strike for strike, and within minutes he'd worn her guard down enough to get in another terrific lick upside the head. Kala went down again, her vision fuzzy, and thought to herself, _That's it, this hurts as much as kryptonite, I can't take any more._

Jay stood over her, panting, blood dripping from his knuckles—his and hers mingled together. "C'mon, Princess," he said mockingly. "Is that all you got?"

The insulting name spurred her on one more time, Kala lashing out with a kick at his knee from where she lay, and then rolling to her feet. She was staggering, though, her vision graying with each erratic beat of her heart, and all thought of strategy and technique had flown from her mind. She was left with the sole determination to outlast this, to outlast _him_.

This time when he hit her, the blows drove her from side to side, almost knocking her off her feet several times. She felt ribs creak, and then crack, a bitter snarl of pain in her side. At that, she grunted in pain, but Kala would _not_ cry out—or cry, despite the burning in her eyes from holding back tears. No pain in her past, except the kryptonite that had almost killed her, had hurt this much. And yet she still came after him, getting a surprise punch past his guard to catch him in the throat.

The price for that was overextending herself, so she couldn't block his next strike. The bastard could hardly _breathe_ , but he could still _hit_. Knife-hand to the side of the neck, her entire left side going numb, and as she crumpled to the ground he caught her by her loosened hair and slammed her descending forehead into his rising knee.

Kala actually blacked out at that. She came to a few seconds later, not remembering the last few blows. For a long moment she simply lay face down, breathing raggedly, staring at the sweat- and blood-stained mat beneath her face. Everything hurt, she was bleeding from a scrape on her brow as well as from her mouth and her abused knuckles, her ribs were cracked and one hand throbbed with what felt like a boxer's fracture from one of those vicious punches that had landed on bone. Enough, she'd done her best, she'd given it her all, and she'd still _lost_.

Except … no. It wasn't over while she still had breath, while she could still think, however muzzy her brain was from repeated blows to the head. Kala began the laborious process of getting to her feet, slowly pulling her hands underneath her chest to get enough leverage to bring her knees up. "Stay down," Jay commanded.

She didn't have the breath or the will to speak, but dragged herself up on her hands and knees, having to pant harshly for air just from that simple action. "You're done, Kala, _stay down_ ," he insisted, his voice ragged.

Kala shook her head woozily, and the movement made her nauseous. She got one knee up, her foot flat on the ground, and…

Jay kicked her in the ribs, once, hard enough to flip her over. Her cracked ribs shrieked at the insult, and Kala lay flat on her back, her teeth gritted against a scream. Still she tried to roll over, to get up again, with no more thought than a dull animal need to keep going at any cost. Moving sent fiery pain knifing through her ribs, and she finally gave up, curling up on her side. But she still refused to weep.

He stood over her, breathing like he'd run a marathon, and then turned abruptly and stormed out, leaving her alone on the bloodied mat. Once she was absolutely sure he was gone and not coming back, Kala curled into a little ball and sobbed.

…

She wasn't giving up, no matter what – he could _see_ that she was played out, even that last burst of energy was gone, and he wouldn't have to hit her again even if she did manage to regain her feet one more time. All he'd have to do is wait, and Kala would pitch over on her own.

But she wouldn't. Give. Up. So he gave her one last kick, barely half-strength, and winced as he felt those slender ribs crack anyway.

Any sane person would've curled into a ball and begged for mercy then. Kala clenched her teeth on a snarling shriek of pain, but … damn, all this and she wouldn't even let out a scream. He saw her eyes squeezed tight shut, holding back the tears -

– the way he'd closed his own eyes, hanging on to one bitter thread of determination, not to cry in front of the monster who was _beating him to death with a crowbar_. He'd known he was going to die, but damned if he was going to give that evil bastard the satisfaction of _tears_.

The same way Kala wasn't going to cry, or cry out, even though he'd beaten her down like he beat down the pimps and drug dealers.

The way _he'd_ been beaten down, no mercy, just pain.

 _Fuck, I've become my own nightmare,_ Jay realized, horror galloping up his spine and down his throat and turning his stomach violently.

Jay ran flat out for the stairs and through the foyer, knowing he'd never make it to his own apartment. Even so, he only just managed to get into the lobby bathroom before throwing up his lunch … and breakfast, and last night's dinner, too. On his knees in front of the toilet, gripping the cold porcelain for balance, his eyes squeezed shut, sweat rolling down his forehead, he vomited until he thought he was actually going to puke out his entire stomach and intestines. It might've been what he deserved.

Finally, the nausea subsided a little, but his gut still cramped warningly. _God_. Nothing he'd ever done had felt so awful as that last kick. Jay had poisoned a man and watched him foam and gag as he died. He'd shot people, knifed them, blown them to pieces—people who deserved it, for the most part, but none of that changed the fact that seeing a shoe sitting all alone in the middle of the street with the foot still in it had made him a little queasy. The first time, anyway. He'd even once put his thumb through a man's eye and broken through the thin layer of bone behind the orbit, plunging his thumb into the brain. It had been warm and squishy, like thick pudding.

None of that sickened him as much as kicking Kala while she was down. _God_ , he hated himself for that. But it had to be done, or so he'd thought. She had to be better trained than Bruce would, better than Bruce trained _him_. Hell, he'd taken some hard hits from the Bat, and none of it had prepared him for a crowbar to the face. He kept telling himself that it was better that she break in training, under controlled circumstances, with someone who _wouldn't_ kill her when she hit her limit, than that she find out she lacked the guts for this job out in the field. Out there it wasn't just herself she could get killed, she could get a whole team slaughtered.

Except … guts was just what she _didn't_ lack. Kala had plenty of grit, more than he ever imagined. He'd beaten her past sass and backtalk, past anger, past insult and outrage and pain. Even past that final flaring of desperate savagery, and he knew damn well if she'd had powers then, he wouldn't have left the room on his own two feet. And she still wouldn't stay down. Wouldn't cry, either. Way deep down, Kala wasn't weak, wasn't a coward. She was as grittily determined as _he_ was.

That deserved respect. And Jay worried that it was too late to give it.

An acid burp rolled up, and that seemed the last of it for a while. He flushed the toilet, then washed his hands, splashed water on his face, and rinsed his mouth out from the tap. He didn't feel any better; right now he felt like the lowest scum that ever crawled out of a gutter. Smacking around women had always been something he loathed—unless they were fighters, and either attacked him first or meant to do some pretty serious harm. Jay had never thought he was the kind of man who could even bring himself to punch a woman in the face, much less kick her while she was down.

But then, in the heat of the moment, even with his gut roiling and his thirteen-year-old self howling in indignation and disgust, he'd been able to do it. Not because he wanted to, or liked it; the whole mess sickened him. The real reason, down at the pit of his soul, had been because he wanted her out of Gotham. And not out of some deranged sort of competitiveness, either. Jay wanted her gone for exactly the reasons he'd said to her in his bunker that first night they'd met: girls like her got killed here, they died slow, and they died badly. He'd rather beat the hell out of her and scare her back to some less-insane city than see her name on a plaque in the fucking Batcave.

Only now that he was rinsing her blood off his hands did he begin to understand that he'd been completely wrong about what kind of girl she was. Kala wasn't a dabbler, she wasn't a cape-chaser, she wasn't a fame-hunting diva. She had the real steel, way down deep in her soul; she didn't know _how_ to give up. And in retrospect, if he hadn't expected that from Superman's daughter, he should've expected it from Lois Lane's. The woman was a freaking legend, even here.

The worst part was, now that Jay had discovered just what exactly he'd been training, he didn't _want_ Kala to go. He could take that steel and hone it into something amazing—and again, there was something _more_ to her, something he'd glimpsed at times but never learned the shape of. In spite of everything, in spite of how many kinds of hell he'd beaten out of her, he still had the feeling she'd been holding _something_ back from him, something she might've finally let loose at the very end, and he wanted to know just what it was.

He'd never trained anyone before, never really understood just how addictive it could be—the rush of seeing potential and knowing how to realize it. Jay felt like Michelangelo seeing David in the block of marble, his hands itching to carve it out.

Only now—now he had to talk to her, quick, make her understand why he'd done what he'd done, or she'd never give him the time of day again. Anyone with an ounce of common sense would just walk out – hobble out, fuck – and blow him off forever as a bullying asshole. Jay hurried out of the bathroom and punched up the security monitors on his computer; he could tell her to wait over the intercom while he ran back down…

…but she was already gone, leaving a smear of blood on the mat that made his stomach do another slow roll. _Fuck_. Another chance missed, another mistake made.

No way in hell would Kala come back. Not after the beating she'd taken today. Shit, he'd be lucky if he didn't find Dickie-Bird on his doorstep looking to settle a score. Or worse, Bruce. Or even worse, Superman.

"Jay, you fucking dumbass," he muttered, and smacked himself in the forehead.

…

 _If I don't get up soon, I'm not going to_ , Kala told herself, her damp cheek still against the mat. The world was gray with shame and red with pain, her stomach turning even trying to think. But the voice in her head was just as insistent as it had been earlier.

 _What other choice do I really have? Either he'll leave me down here all night and I'll have to face Bruce or he'll take pity on me and come down here and get me. Twice the humiliation. Not happening. Staying here isn't an option. No matter how half-dead I feel, anything would be better than either of those options. On your feet, woman._

Right. After a few minutes, Kala had caught her breath enough to get up—very slowly, feeling like the old woman in the Life Alert commercial. _Help I've fallen and I can't get up,_ she thought muzzily, and almost laughed. What was it women said in hospital emergency rooms? 'Oh, I fell,' or 'Oh, I tripped over a rake,' or 'Oh, I walked into a door.' Yeah. She'd fallen all right, fallen onto someone's fists and feet.

Except unlike those miserable women, Kala had _chosen_ this. For serious reasons. She had _nothing_ to prove to Jason Todd, and everything to prove to herself. And she _had_ been getting better, no matter how much pressure he put on her, she rose to the challenge. There was a sort of pride in that, in finding out exactly how determined she was. Besides, in a strange way she thought he'd never struck her in anger. Frustration, maybe, but he wasn't hitting her just to hit her. He was hitting her to teach her something, trying to run her out of his city by showing her just how bad it could get.

And this evening, she thought he had finally accomplished that.

Kala staggered outside and her stomach stridently rebelled. She had to throw up in the gutter, holding onto a telephone pole for balance. Once, that would've left her mortified; right now she didn't even care. All Kala could think of was hailing a cab, somehow convincing the cabbie she _hadn't_ been mugged, and getting back to the Manor so she could fall into bed. Everyone should be out on rounds, so she would only have to see Alfred, and he would run her a bath without judgment.

The cab was the easy part. She tugged her hoodie up to throw her face in shadow, and the cab driver didn't even glance twice at her. Maybe there were too many bruise-faced women in the world—in this neighborhood even—for a cabbie to get excited over one.

She slept most of the ride to the Manor, paid the cabbie and gave a generous tip, then trudged in expecting nothing more difficult than deciding whether to eat in the tub again or just sleep first. Maybe she should also ask Alfred about her ribs; if she breathed too deep, the dull pain there grew claws.

Instead, Kala was met by Dick Grayson, sitting in the dark dining room as she came in through the kitchen. "How bad is it, Kala?" he asked.

She couldn't help it. Kala gasped and jumped, both of which hurt, and she pressed a hand to her ribcage with a muttered curse. Still, she knew Dick well enough to put on her game face, even though everything hurt. "Pretty bad, but I'll be all right," Kala said, unaware that her smile looked more like a rictus grin.

"Bull," Dick said, getting up and coming toward her. He turned on the overhead light, and Kala flinched from the brightness so that she didn't see him reaching for the hood. His voice was soft when he saw what she'd been hiding. "Holy mother of God."

"You should see my ribs," Kala said, trying to make light of it.

From the look on his face, Dick wasn't interested in letting her play this off.

…

Kala looked like hell. She looked like one of those women he saw sometimes, wearing sunglasses on cloudy days to hide their eyes. He'd thought Jay was basically okay, but he'd clearly been beating the crap out of Kala for the last few weeks, and that had _never_ been part of his personality. Hell, that one Garzonas guy, Bruce still pretty much suspected Jay had killed the guy because he was an abuser. And now this?

Part of Dick wanted to march over there and start swinging. This was Kala, this was Superman's _daughter_ , how dare Jay beat her up like this? They were just starting to get comfortable with Jay being around and being part of the crime-fighting family again. He _wanted_ to be happy that Jay was slowly coming back into the fold, that Bruce trusted him to train Kala. But he couldn't help second-guessing. What the hell was going on with his messed-up little brother that Kala came home looking like _this_?

"That's it, you're done, I'm not letting you go back there," Dick said, and her eyes went wide. What had Jay done to her that she looked like he'd just told her she couldn't follow her dreams? " _And_ I'm going over there tomorrow," he added.

"Hell no," Kala shot back, grabbing his arm. The look on her face was frantic, insistent. But it wasn't fear prompting it, that much was clear. "Dick, _no_. Please don't. I know how this looks, but really, he's not that much better off. I promise you that. And _he_ can't heal it with half an hour by the pool."

"Why are you doing this, Kala?" he pleaded, catching her upper arms. Gently, she was probably bruised there too. "You don't have to prove anything to him."

"I know that," she murmured with firm gentleness. "This isn't about him. Dick, really. I'm okay. I'm just banged up a bit. That's what happens in training. Tell me that you didn't walk away with injuries. Difference is, by tomorrow half of this will heal. And when I go back there, I won't make the same mistakes I made today."

He sighed. Dick knew her better than she thought. "Kala, you don't have to prove anything to yourself, either. I thought you were only gonna part-time this?"

She looked away at that, and he took her chin and turned her face up to his again. Kala smiled, chagrined. "Well, I can't be Kryptonian only part of the time. He's got a point. What's going to happen if some fool comes after me again with green k?" She shivered a little at that, her gaze going distant and her jaw tightening. "It's going to happen again, if not Luthor, then by someone else. Someone who could honestly put me down. No bad guy worth his salt is going to stop at slapping me around a little if they've gone so far as to get the rock, Dick. And I've been a victim twice already. Better that we do this now. I'll have a better chance at surviving."

He looked down at her, troubled. After a few moments of questionable thoughts when she'd first arrived, Kala had turned out to be mostly like a sister to him. A _little_ sister, someone he wanted to protect. She was such a quirky, sunny kid, always ready with a laugh and a quip, the bright heart that the household had been missing. Exactly the kind of person that he – and all of them – were driven to protect. Seeing her like this, battered and exhausted, drove him nuts. And yet, her determination was palpable. "Kala, are you _sure_ _?_ "

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, she actually seemed to think about her answer before she gave it with the barest nod of her head. "My head's killing me, so I can't be too enthusiastic. Dick, if I'm going to do this, it can't be by half-measures. Jay has a point. This isn't even the worst someone could do to me without my powers. If I can't handle this, I don't have any business being involved in any of this life. No, I don't like getting the crap beaten out of me, but if I keep trying, maybe there won't be any chance of a someone taking me out with a kryptonite shiv one fine day. Okay, so maybe I might not make it as a cape, after all of this. But I can't stop being _what_ I am. What Jay's been teaching me could save my life one day. I _need_ this, Dick. It sucks and I'll probably keep looking this bad for a little while, but … it's really the only way."

If she'd hesitated at all, if she'd looked down and failed to meet his eyes even once, Dick would've put a stop to it then and there, no matter how she pleaded. If he'd thought for one second that she was stuck in this, that she couldn't see a way out, he would've made her stay at the Manor, even if he had to go through Bruce or Babs to do it. That wasn't the case. Kala had a logical reason to go back.

And for as badly-beaten as Kala looked, she wasn't afraid. She wasn't broken. He could almost pity his little brother for the shock he was gonna get when he finally realized that Kala _didn't_ break. "All right," Dick said at last, leaning in to press a brotherly kiss to her forehead. "I'll make you some soup. Go dunk yourself in a bath." He sniffed, and wrinkled his nose comically. "You need it."

She gave him a wan smile, but she was trying. "Wow, as if the damage to my face wasn't enough, now you strike at my ego. Love you, too." Kala gave a tired sigh then, biting her lip immediately. Wincing, she gave him frustrated look. "And I would, but what do you know about broken ribs? 'Cause I think I might need some help."

Broken ribs? _Broken ribs?_ The first thing Dick thought was, _Her father's gonna kill us all._ Before he could flail and panic, however, the saner side of his mind kicked in with actual, useful medical knowledge. There were advantages to having been in the game as long as he had. "As long as it's not poking into a lung, which it isn't because you aren't coughing blood, leave it alone and it'll heal. Wrapping them can cause pneumonia. And make sure you take a deep breath and cough at least once an hour. Now, Kala— _broken ribs?!"_

"That's good to know, although I'd give anything for a painkiller right about now. It probably won't last as long for me as it would for you, but it'll help until sun-up." She didn't look up at him until then and once she did, Kala sighed again. "Dick, stop. We both just agreed that this is important for me to learn," she murmured, still wincing a bit. "That's another job hazard. I'll need to know that for the future, too. I'll be okay. Really. I'll learn to heal, okay? And next time, I'll duck when I'm supposed to. I promise I will. Now help a girl upstairs at least? Please?"

"You're not leaving tomorrow unless those ribs can stand up to training," Dick warned. At least she'd given him an idea that made him smile. "I'll bring you something for the pain, and sure, I can help you upstairs." With that, Dick carefully swept her into his arms, cradling her gently to spare her any more strain on her ribs.

That caught her by surprise, but Kala smothered the gasp this time. She was learning. She let him carry her up, her body relaxing a little as she leaned her good side into him. "If I don't go tomorrow, I'm going to next day. Or the next. I don't want to lose time, Dick, and I don't think he'll wait for me to come back too long. If at all. I have to do this. Promise you'll trust me even if you don't trust him. If it gets to be more than I can handle, I'll walk out myself and never look back, okay?"

Dick sighed; she was relentless. Lucky for as much of a heavyweight debater Kala was, she was pretty lightweight in terms of carrying her up the stairs. "I do trust you, Kala, but … you're young, and you obviously want to do this. A lot. That's a situation ripe for getting in over your head. Just … take it easy for a day if these aren't healed in the morning, all right? Do that, and I'll won't worry quite so much."

He expected immediate denial, yet another argument, but Kala was clearly wearing down. With an irritable sigh, she nodded. "All right. Fine. But I want to go back as soon as I can. I'm not letting him think he's scared me off, Dick. He's not getting out of this that easy. He only won for tonight. I'm staying."

How could he not admire that grit? Dick grinned and nudged her with his chin. "That's my girl. You can make it from the door, right? So I'll just go fetch your soup and some meds, and you'll take a nice long rest until the morning. With the windows open—that's not cheating."

She nodded again and he could feel her bracing to be set down. "I made it out of the bunker and into the cab in one piece. I should be able to make it to the tub in one piece. Just have Alfred on stand-by if you hear a crash or something, okay?" There was a pause and she leaned carefully up to look at him. The strain was etched in her pretty face, but she gave him a small smile nonetheless. "And Dick? Thank you. For worrying about me and everything else. It means a lot that you care."

"I will, and you're welcome. Even if I'm only doing what any friend would do." Dick lingered for a moment longer, making sure she was steady on her feet, and then rumpled Kala's hair before turning to head back downstairs. With any luck Alfred would already have soup on.

…

The next morning, Kala felt much better. Leaving the windows open for a bit of sun had helped; her ribs were only a little sore, and her bruises had faded to yellowish instead of purple. Dick watched over her sharply during warm-up, and when they sparred he came after her harder than usual. A month ago that would've upset her, but she'd been sparring with Jay for weeks. Now Dick was trying to do exactly what his younger brother had been doing: pushing her, trying to expose weakness. Not because Dick was a bully, but because he didn't want her going out and facing a tougher opponent if she couldn't handle it.

She was quick and limber and light on her feet, all the stiffness and soreness worked out by stretching and running through katas. Eventually Dick had to admit she was in good enough shape to leave the house. "Are you _sure_ you wanna do this?" he asked, one more time.

Kala sighed exasperatedly. Sometimes it was like having another Jase around, as overprotective as Dick could be. "I'm a big girl, Dick. If I didn't want to go, I'd stay here. Or head over to the Clock Tower and pester Babs. I'm _fine_. I promise."

On that note, and with a peck to Dick's cheek, Kala headed out and grabbed a cab. She didn't feel as glib as she'd sounded to Dick, of course. Her stomach was churning at the thought of what might happen. Still, she had no intention of asking Jay to go easy. That'd be a show of weakness she just couldn't let happen.

By now, Kala had her own key, and let herself into the bunker when she arrived. Taking a deep breath, she dumped her bag and walked through to the training room, already on the alert, since Jay was usually waiting for her when she showed up. If he wasn't today, maybe he had something planned, like a sneak attack…

What she saw was something completely different.

Jay had his back to her, hammering away at a heavy bag in the corner, the back of his gray tee already soaked with sweat. He had his head down, really whaling at the bag, completely blind to his surroundings. The blows he rained down were hard and fast, not much technique but all kinds of power.

For a long moment Kala just watched him, wary and unsure. Jay looked like he was working off some serious anger, and for a moment she considered just walking back out against instead of dealing with him. But her stubbornness wouldn't let her do anything so cowardly. Instead she took a couple steps closer and commented drolly, "Wow, I'd hate to be the one that pissed you off that bad."

He whirled around, fists coming up, and then just stared at her in what looked like utter shock. "You came back," Jay muttered in genuine surprise. Before she could reply, he seemed to shake himself. "Nobody pissed me off. Sometimes it's just good exercise."

"Ah." Kala didn't comment on the obvious lie. The good news was that he wasn't plotting to ambush her and take her out again. That had to be considered a plus. But now she didn't have the slightest idea what to say or do. There wasn't any blame there for what happened the day before; everything had been part of what she'd agreed to when she said she'd train with him. It wasn't his fault that he'd dished out more than she could handle.

Problem was, for once in her life Kala wasn't sure what to say next. Especially with the way she'd crawled out the night before. But remembering that was no help when she was at a loss for words. In the end, she only asked, bracing herself for his answer, "So what's on today's menu?"

"That depends," Jay said, still sounding as off-kilter as she felt. He looked her over, not the scornful glances she'd gotten in the beginning, but a serious appraisal. Like all the Bats, he was assessing her condition, checking her stance and how she carried her weight for injuries and weaknesses. "How're your ribs?"

"They're better," Kala said cautiously.

Jay just looked her over again, and frowned. "Better, huh?"

She sighed. "Fine. They're healed. Dick saw me coming in, and he made me leave the windows open to the sun."

"Gonna have to stop that, if you wanna get down to human level," Jay remarked. There was no rancor in it, though.

Kala muttered a curse under her breath, disappointed—mostly in herself. She shouldn't have let Dick talk her into cheating on her sunlight diet. At that, Jay gave an expansive shrug, losing some of the tension in his shoulders. "Hey. What's done is done. And if you hadn't, you probably couldn't train today. So it's all good. C'mon, let's warm up. Help me beat this damn bag into a pulp."

And while that might've been a calculated move to assess her strength before going up against her, Kala got the feeling that Jay was genuinely trying to be … _nice_. Which was the biggest surprise of all.

…

From the moment Kala walked in, Jay was totally off his game. He hadn't expected her to come back, figuring that last kick while she was down had finished off his chances of seeing this through. Now he couldn't quite figure out how to react to her. It didn't help that she moved like she was fresh and rested, and her bruises had faded to yellow. That kind of healing overnight just wasn't what he was used to. And honestly, healed or not, his brain was still stuck on _she came back_. All he could do was act like things were normal and hope she'd take her cues from him until he caught up.

Jay led her to the heavy bag and watched as she took her stance. Kala moved freely, and when she struck the bag it rocked back under the blows. Nice, solid connection, and she was concentrating, placing each punch carefully. Jay steadied the bag as he watched her. "All right, gimme some of those kicks you love so much," he said, wanting to see her balance and extension.

Kala obliged him. Front kick, side kick, back kick, and then the spinning kicks. She could plant her heel higher than his head, when she wanted to. Some of those kicks took too long to set up, in the field, and allowed opponents a chance to defend themselves, but damn, they were pretty. "C'mon, come and get it!" Jay called.

She grinned fiercely, backed off a few paces, and then came at him at a run. At the last second she leapt into the air, spun, and hit the bag with a double-kick, both feet striking dead center. If Jay hadn't been steadying the bag, it might've been snapped off its chains. As it was, he felt like the bag had been kicked by a horse.

Kala landed on her hands, tumbled, rolled to her feet, and stood there panting, the fire back in her eyes. He'd missed that over the last week or so, seeing her worn down and battered. "All right then," Jay said, stepping away from the bag and rolling his shoulders. "Let's work on defending against nerve strikes. Sound good?"

"Sounds okay," Kala said, still giving him a bit of a dubious look.

With that it was straight into practice. As always, Kala picked things up quickly. Her blocks and parries were faster today than they had been over the last few; probably the sunlight, giving her back some of that super-speed. For the first time, Jay could actually picture Kala fighting—with her powers and his training. Hell, she'd be damn near unstoppable. The thought gave him a little chill.

They moved from practice into sparring, and she got wary again, probably expecting another beat-down. That wounded Jay, to see that look in _any_ woman's eyes directed at him. He backed off, though, moving slower, keeping things at half-tempo. "Don't take it easy on me just because you got me yesterday," Kala finally said, her guard up and her voice hard.

Jay backed away a pace, taking a deep breath. It would've been easier if she'd yelled at him for yesterday, called him a bullying prick and smacked him in the mouth. Instead she was actually … respecting him as a trainer, maybe? And not blaming him for kicking her ass. What he wanted to do was stop everything and explain _why_ he'd gone after her so hard yesterday, and the epiphany he'd had about her level of determination. But of course he couldn't do that.

And … wait. Why _couldn't_ he do just that? Bruce wouldn't do it, wouldn't break his Bat superiority down enough to apologize, but the whole _point_ of this was he _wasn't_ Bruce. He wanted to give her training Bruce never would; maybe he should give her honesty that the big bad Bat wouldn't either.

So Jay held his hands up and stepped back. "Okay. Here's the deal. You proved you're game already. I don't need to break you to train you. Waste of time, anyway."

Kala just looked wary. "Uh-huh, I call bullshit. Don't you dare back-down on me, Jay. Just because you beat the hell out of me yesterday doesn't mean you should treat me like spun glass today."

"That's not – " he began, but she cut him off, chin tilted up and eyes blazing.

"The hell it isn't. You keep looking at me like I'm gonna break into pieces right here. Or break down crying, which ain't happenin', not today or any day. Fuck that, and fuck you too," she snarled, stalking forward. "I don't care what the goddamn Titans say about me, I'm not someone's Goth Barbie, afraid to play rough 'cause I might break a nail. And I'm not afraid of breaking some ribs, either. They'll heal. _I can take it._ I swear to God, Jay, I will beat the living shit out of you and every other hero in this hellhole town if that's what it takes to prove I'm for real. So if you wuss out now and start treating me like a kid sister, I'll kick your balls into orbit and _force_ you to train me!"

"Okay, _whoa_ there, Captain Kryptonian Badass," Jay said, and almost stepped back. That'd be a bad idea though, as hot as her temper was, and he held his ground. "You wanna fuckin' shut up and hear what I was gonna say, or you wanna yell at me some more? I don't care, we got time."

She cocked her head, studying him, but she went quiet and let him speak. Of course, that meant he had to figure out what the hell to say. Jay blew out a frustrated breath. Fucking hell, why was it so hard to find the right words with her? "I was wrong about you," he finally said, going for plain truth. "I made the same mistake everybody makes, okay? I thought you were just … dabbling, I guess."

"Dabbling." Her lip curled angrily, and he saw that bright-dark flash in those hazel eyes, the same he'd seen right before she turned on him toward the end, last night.

" _I was wrong_ ," Jay told her, emphasizing it, and there was a weird kind of … freedom, to admitting it. Something Daddy Bats would never say, never do, but _Jay_ could do it. "You're not gonna be a part-timer. Whatever kept you out of the game this long, I don't know, but you've got everything it takes to kick ass and take names and _save the fucking world_ if that's what you wanna do. You're good right now, probably better than me when I first ran solo, and I wanna make you even _better_."

She cut him off then, stepping forward, that chin thrust forward in defiance. "Why? Why does it matter? I didn't come here to prove a damn thing to you; I'm training with you because I need what you're giving me."

He spread his hands out, encompassing her, him, and the whole room. "Because someone should. Me, I don't give a shit about the world. I care about people – some people. The kind of people whose asses you're gonna be able to pull out of the fire, a whole lot faster and better than I can. You're gonna be thirty-one fucking flavors of badass, K, and when you hit the street for real, every asshole in this _country_ is gonna want your head on their trophy wall. I'd like to see you stay in this business a long time."

With that he bore back in, a little harder, but still _training_ and not seriously trying to take her down. There was a fine line between the two, and he meant to walk it from now on. Kala met him move for move, or at least tried. Jay still landed a few blows, but she was getting better at blocking him or moving just out of range. So he broke out some of his fancier stuff, the hapkido moves and the occasional nerve strike. At last he tried a spin kick, figuring Kala wouldn't expect it from someone who disparaged them so much.

To his surprise, Kala blocked it with a forearm, grabbed his pants leg, and yanked. That threw Jay off-balance, and only years of training kept him from doing a split and probably pulling a muscle. As it was he managed to recover while only looking like a staggering drunk for a couple of seconds.

When he managed to right himself, Kala was watching him in clear disbelief, just staring at him with those huge eyes of hers wide. After a beat, he watched her suck her lower lip into her mouth, biting down. There was another pause of silence before he realized that she was shaking just the slightest bit, the right corner of her mouth twitching. And then she did something he'd never expected.

Losing her composure entirely, Kala broke and started laughing, covering her face as she did.

Part of him wanted to be surly, feeling foolish. But he couldn't help it. That laugh of hers was infectious. And he'd probably looked pretty damn foolish, too. A grin cracked his face, and Jay chuckled. "All right, score one for the Super," he said.

Dropping her hands slowly, she watched him for a moment before the corner of her mouth curled up in an little smirk. The incident seemed to have put her a little more at ease, sweeping the tension from her bearing. Finally, she put her hand out to him, "Yeah, well, I guess I'd better take it a little easier on you, huh? Maybe another truce is in order? Especially since I'm not leaving Gotham until I know what I need to know, even if you want me out. I mean it. So truce? Or am I going to have to trip you up again?" The intent of her words was firm and clear, but she asked with a grin and a raised eyebrow.

Jay couldn't help returning the smile, and took her hand to shake it firmly. "Deal. Truce. Just go easy on me, okay, princess? I'm not getting any younger here."

The look she shot him at the use of the nickname was clearly aggravated, but the smirk was in full-force now. "Yes, well. That's up to you, now, isn't it? And knock the 'princess' crap off, Hood. Seriously. You don't even know. Now are you gonna teach me something else today, or just stand around looking pretty? 'Cause I can get that at the Manor."

He held both hands up in the classic don't-shoot-me gesture. "Easy, easy, Blur. Don't take it personally. And yeah, let's work." With that he lunged back into sparring, trying to catch her off guard. Still, the attack was much less savage than the previous day, and Jay was still chuckling as he swept in for a joint lock.

Maybe everything would work out all right for once. It'd make a nice change from the sea of bullshit that his life usually was.


	18. Testing the Limits

After the night Kala dragged herself home bruised and battered and broken-ribbed, Dick watched her very carefully. Every night when she returned from Jay's bunker, he made sure to be home, just … checking up on her. And for a few days, he didn't see anything to worry him. No new bruises, no change in demeanor. If anything, she was a little more cheerful. But that one night was never far from his mind.

Then Kala came in late, with a spectacular shiner, and Dick lost it. Quietly, of course. He didn't say anything to let her know what he was up to, just headed out like it was a normal patrol, leaving Kala to rest up for tomorrow.

Once outside, though, Dick activated his secure line. "O, where's Hood?"

"In the Bowery as usual," came the reply. "Going to team up?"

"Not exactly. Send me his precise location, please." After a moment, Oracle did so, and Dick headed out to one of the worst corners of Jay's turf.

He found his little brother—not really so little, Jay was broader-shouldered and heavier than Dick, the charging bull to his leaping stag—in the midst of a fight, naturally. Sometimes it felt like all Jay ever wanted to do was fight, like he thought that was all he was good at.

Sometimes Dick wondered if that was the truth, or just what Jay wanted everyone to think.

Jay cut Dick a single surprised look before returning to the fray. Between the two of them they easily dispatched the gang members, and then Jay rolled his shoulders and looked over at him. "What're you doin' on my side of town, Wing?"

"On the roof," Dick said, and used the grapnel to get there. Jay was close behind, and Dick rounded on him. "What the hell do you think you're doing with Kala?"

The reaction was immediate and expected. "Training her. With Daddy Bats' approval, by the way. Why?"

"Because she showed up with another black eye. Dammit, Red, she's starting to look like one of those women with a frequent-flyer pass to the emergency room." Dick replied hotly, stepping into Jay's space.

"Bite me, Wing. We all looked just as bad when we were training," Jay snarled.

"Not _that_ bad. The other night her _ribs_ were broken. Is that training? Or just a grudge 'cause she stole your show?"

"You are so full of shit," Jay spat back. " _She_ stole _my_ show? Other way around, Dickie-Bird, she's the diva."

"So why _are_ you so pissed at her? You could just as easily train her without beating the crap out of her every night!"

"Not for what she needs to learn! K doesn't need pretty flips and spin-kicks and all that fancy shit. Ninety-nine percent of the time no one's even gonna _see_ her. What she needs is the skills and the grit to hang out and kick some ass when she's being kryptonited and some asshole's trying to _kill_ her."

None of that impressed Dick. "So that's what you're doing? Showing her what it feels like to have someone try to kill her?"

Jay had been moving forward just as aggressively, and now the two were shouting in each other's faces. "Get over yourself, D. You're just pissed 'cause you're not getting any for a few days while your little girlfriend heals up. Relax already, she'll be _fine_ , and until then you've got Cinemax and KY."

Dick reeled at that. _What_ was he implying? Did Jay really think…?

He was about to disabuse his little brother of that notion when he thought better of it. Maybe if Jay thought that was the situation, he'd be angry enough—for whatever reason, Dick couldn't guess—to finally reveal the truth. "Yeah, I don't like you hitting her. You've had a grudge where she's concerned from the moment she showed up, and it's just plain _low_ to take it out on her under the pretext of 'training'."

It seemed to be working, Jay almost frothing in his reply. "Low? Are you fuckin' kidding me? No, D, what's _low_ is sending her out there with a month of taekwondo and thinking she's anywhere _near_ ready for the street. Yeah sure, she's fine against the gangs and the muggers and the thieves, but she hasn't run up against Black Mask or Two-Face or Poison Ivy or that fucking Clown. Maybe she'd be all right in Metropolis, but this is _Gotham_ _!_ She'd damn well better know how dark it can get if she thinks she can shine a little light around here!"

"Is that what it's really about, little bro? Showing her the darkness? No one better than you for that, huh?" As soon as he said the words Dick knew he was out of line; maybe Jay wasn't the only one giving away more truth than he intended in the heat of the moment.

…

Dickie-Bird's attitude was really _not_ gonna fly. All pushy and defensive because Jay wasn't going easy on his girl. Really, he'd expected this the minute Kala went home with more than the faintest bruises; Dick was notoriously protective. He would've thought it would come after the epic beat down the other night. But no, now that he and Kala were working things out nicely, _now_ Dick decided to get bent out of shape. Just 'cause she'd caught a fist with her face earlier tonight, too busy trying to nerve-strike him to watch out for it, and _Kala_ hadn't cared about that punch or the inevitable shiner. _She_ knew it was no big deal. Dick was the one with the problem, and Jay figured he knew why.

And then he crossed the line. Jay threw a punch before he even thought about it, pure reflex; luckily Dick was fast enough to block. "You asshole," Jay growled, falling back, fists clenched at his sides ready to strike again. "You know what, you're right. I know more about the filthy underbelly of this town than you or B or R _ever_ will, Golden Boy. I was born in it, I grew up in it, and it's _your_ world that's the fairytale. You have _no fucking clue_ what it takes to survive down here, Dickie-Bird. When K wants to see what Gotham's _really_ like, she's smart enough to come to the guy that lives right here in the middle of Crime Alley with the gangs and the prostitutes and the dealers just next door. Or that _were_ next door, 'til I did something about it."

Dick made an irritable little noise. "Okay, fine, I was wrong for that. But there's still no good reason to be sending her home with broken ribs and black eyes and God only knows what else. You can train her without beating her senseless!"

"No, I can't train her without hurting her, and no, I haven't beaten her senseless," Jay snarled. He hadn't realized that Kala had crawled home to her golden boyfriend here that one night, but it made sense for Dick to patch her up after the worst of it. She _had_ said that Dick told her to sleep with the window open. "The night you're talking about, she was still trying to get up with her ribs broken!"

"Yeah, wonderful, I have no idea what you did to her that she didn't just call it quits right then," Dick shot back.

 _She's got more heart than any of you ever guessed,_ Jay thought. Aloud, he only said, "Guess I shouldn't be surprised she went running to you for help, huh? The ever-chivalrous Dickie-Bird ready to hold any girl's hand in her hour of need."

"Actually, I had to lie in wait for her," Dick growled back, looking ready to throw a punch of his own. "K didn't want me talking to you about this. Hell, she didn't want me to know her _ribs_ were even _broken_."

"And you didn't listen, did you? Always trying so hard to save the ones that don't need saving. You've got a complex, you know that?"

" _I've_ got a complex?" Dick said, taking a step toward him.

Oracle's digitized voice cut in then, crackling in both of their comms. "If you two can hold off on the bickering for a minute, you might just want to move. Since you have five or six thugs sneaking up on you over the rooftops right now."

Jay whirled; he'd been so absorbed in yelling at Dick that he hadn't paid as close attention to his surroundings as he usually did. Then again, it took a lot of balls for anyone to try taking down one of the Bats. He spotted one man, who immediately dropped behind the cover of an air-handling unit.

Beside him, Dick fell into a defensive stance, muttering imprecations under his breath. The sudden movement at close range made Jay draw both guns and thumb the safeties off out of pure reflex. Babs added over the comm, "Or you can just fight each other for warm-up until these guys get around to making a move. Whatever works."

"Thanks for the heads-up, O," Dick said with less sarcasm than Jay would've. He drew his escrima sticks and shot a significant look at his little brother. "I've got two in my sights."

"One," Jay replied shortly. "O, a little help coordinating?" With that he was off and moving on an unpredictable trajectory, aiming not for the thug he'd seen but for the place where Jay himself would've been, if he was that guy's backup.

His strategy bore fruit, netting him a surprised fighter who went down with a rap upside the skull to knock him out. Then Jay turned on the one he'd seen first, who was shooting at him with more speed than aim. Coming up behind the guy like he was made it almost too easy to put a bullet in his shooting arm, and another in his leg to make him stay put.

Not far away, Dick was taking care of the two men he'd seen. The electric charge in those sticks was a really nasty surprise, when you were on the receiving end. Jay took cover and scanned for movement, seeing a fourth man trying to outflank Dickie-Bird. "Nope, asshole, if anyone beats him halfway across town tonight, it's gonna be me," he growled, and lunged. Too risky to fire a shot with the way Dick flipped and tumbled all over the place; it was impossible to predict where he'd be in any given moment, even though Jay had worked with and against him for years.

So he did it the old-fashioned way, with a higher leap than most men his size would be capable of. Jay landed with both feet on the thug's gut and drove the wind from him. A clip upside the head with a fist weighted by his heavy Glock, and that one was down for the count too.

Something cut through the air, and Jay ducked and rolled automatically. He came up to see a fifth man knocked out by a flying Batarang. "Nice throw," he called to Dick, turning to see if he could spot another opponent.

"Next one's on your six, Hood, and fleeing the scene," O said in his ear.

"Let him go. He'll tell his friends why this was a bad idea," Dick said, looking over at Jay. "Nice jump, by the way."

"Yeah, if I'd kicked him in the crotch we could call it my signature move," Jay snarked back.

Dick sighed, lowering his sticks. "Look, Red, just … tell me this thing with K is about training her, and not about getting back at all of us."

That just brought the anger right back up to the surface, burning like boiling acid. Jay sneered as he replied, "Seriously? Haven't you noticed I'm over the whole self-righteous lot of you? If I wanted to get back at the Bat-family I'd blow up a car or two, not smack your girlfriend around. Get a life, Wing-ding." On that note, he stepped off the nearest parapet and left Dick stuck with the cleanup.

…

Jay's exit left Dick feeling like a heel. Not just because he hadn't corrected Jay—and wouldn't Kala be thrilled when her trainer remarked on her relationship status—but because he'd obviously struck a nerve there. "O, call in GCPD for me, please. I'll bet some of these guys have warrants." With that he took off in the opposite direction, sticking to the rooftops.

"Already done," Babs replied. "Little heavy-handed there, y'think?"

Dick just sighed. On top of everything else, he was getting an Oracle lecture, too. When he didn't reply, she continued, "You know he wouldn't beat her up just for the sake of beating her up, D."

"Yeah, I _used_ to know that. The boy he was never would've. But he hasn't been right in the head since he put on that damn helmet." More truth than he intended lurked in those words. Dick hadn't quite finished grieving for the loss of Jay, both times. Bringing him back into the fold was still a tentative thing, more letting him wander in of his own accord than trying to recruit him.

It had been Babs who hunted him down and sent an upgraded comm unit to his hideout. She'd been the one to treat Jay as a de facto member of the family again, and to everyone's surprise he'd begun to come around. This thing with Kala had just sealed the deal.

Although Dick still wondered just how the hell Jay had convinced Bruce to let him train Kala. The green Super and the partially-rehabilitated Hood? It was a recipe for disaster, and the bruises Dick had seen just proved it. But _Bruce_ let it go on.

Further proof that the motivations of the Bat were beyond the ken of mere mortals like themselves.

Babs spoke quietly, but she sounded very certain. "If he _was_ beating her out of anger, do you think K would stand for it? Wing, you remember Nevada. That is not a woman who's going to let herself be abused."

He sighed heavily, fetching up atop a gargoyle to survey the street. "She says otherwise, but she still feels like she has a lot to prove. That'd be a reason to take a beating she doesn't deserve."

"True, but my main objection to him training her was the potential for _him_ to get hurt. Remember, she can heal almost anything, given sunlight. If he _does_ push her too far and she throws him through a wall, I could end up with a little competition for most busted Bat."

That made him flinch, but Babs never shied from her injury. She had more courage than anyone else Dick knew, that was for sure. "You talked to B about it," he said. He didn't really believe Kala would hurt any of _them_. General Zod, sure, and he wouldn't want to be Luthor the next time Kala crossed him, but one of their own? He couldn't see it, no matter what Babs said.

"He didn't exactly ask my opinion, but he got it anyway," she said with a little laugh. "I've been keeping an eye on the situation since."

Dick smiled. "Like you keep an eye on my apartment?" he asked, letting every ounce of suggestiveness show in his voice. He _knew_ about the cameras, they'd saved his life at least once, and he'd long ago stopped thinking about where they were placed when he changed clothes. His naked and admittedly magnificent butt was old news between them, anyway.

"No, your apartment is just for my personal entertainment," Babs laughed. "Seriously, though, it's harder to get a read on Hood, but … everything's fine. Call me before you try going all white-knight again, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am," Dick said, and decided to put on the soundtrack to _Magic Mike_ when he got home. She needed a little payback for that remark about entertainment.

…

About an hour before Kala would've headed out to Jay's bunker, she got a text from him. Just three words: _Wear the uniform._ She narrowed her eyes, pondering. Jay _hated_ her uniform. Maybe he planned on picking apart her fashion choices again? Or maybe he just wanted her to spar in it.

Whatever, she'd wear it, and bring a change of clothes, too, in case he was being too evil. Kala finished up around the house, kissed Alfred's cheek and reminded him he was wonderful, and then headed out to the Bowery.

She was on guard walking in, the usual uniform hidden by the leather trench—it was too hot for the coat, but Kala didn't want to explain to a cabbie or a cop why she was wearing a corset top in _this_ neighborhood as the sun went down. "So what's the plan, Hood?" she called out.

He was in full uniform, too, carrying the signature helm in one hand. "We're going out. You're graduating to patrol— _baby_ patrol, just the run-of-the-mill stuff. No masks, no madmen, no the-two-of-us-against-an-army bullshit. Got it? We run into anything hot, _you're_ cutting out for home."

That sounded … pretty good, actually, and Kala looked at him dubiously. She decided to tease him just a bit to gauge his mood. "You never let me have any fun."

"Yeah, well, your Dickie-Bird would be hella pissed if I let the Falcones or one of the masks trash you," Jay shot back, moving past her toward the vehicles.

 _Her_ Dickie-Bird? Kala had a sinking feeling in her stomach at that. "Yeah, he's the most overprotective big brother in the world, but I figured you'd know that."

Jay snorted, unlocking the passenger door of a beat-to-shit Lincoln with a cracked windshield and no hubcaps. "Right. He's real brotherly."

Kala sat down, closing the door gingerly. The car looked worse than the one in which she'd learned to drive, and it wouldn't surprise her if slamming the door had made it fall off. Jay got in on his side, the wide bench seat between them strewn with fast-food wrappers that he shoved carelessly to the floor. She just watched him, glancing around the car with a skeptical eye. "Okay, I'll crack. Why are we taking the crapmobile?"

For a moment he just stared at her, almost insulted, and then Jay grinned. Without a word of explanation, he fired up the ignition. The engine came to life with a roar that subsided into a deep purr—nothing like the rattling heap she'd expected. "Not everything is what it seems," Jay laughed.

She nodded slowly. "I get it. This is the camo car. Let me guess, custom reinforced chassis and a V8 under the hood?"

"It'll it outrun everything except the Batmobile, and I can leave it parked in a bad neighborhood and not come back to find it stripped." Jay smirked, seeming pleased with her deduction. Or maybe he just liked the fact that she knew how to use 'chassis' in a sentence.

Kala grinned back; she'd better not tell him one of her exes and closest friends was a mechanic. "The rust on the rear fender is a nice touch."

"I got a few wires and bits of metal hanging loose underneath, too, like it's about to fall apart," Jay added. He backed smoothly out of the parking space and left the garage, cruising slowly through the worst side of town.

Patrolling with Jay was a new experience. He could read the street in a single glance, tell from the way people _stood_ who they were and what their angle was. And everyone had an angle. Kala watched and tried to figure out what cues he was reading—and which ones he was sending out. No matter how many times they slowed down and he looked intently at a prostitute, none of the working girls ever approached the car. Maybe because Kala was there, but she doubted it. Maybe they knew the car and were used to Jay prowling around. He still wasn't wearing the helmet, and the dark interior kept them from seeing the domino he wore.

Several times he parked around a corner and headed back down a street or an alley they'd passed. Once he left the car for almost thirty minutes, leading Kala up to the rooftops to circle around on a drug deal she hadn't even known was going down. The men involved hadn't looked suspicious to her. They left them concussed and trussed for the cops.

Then Jay had seen something that made him pull the car over and tell her shortly, "Stay put." He rummaged in the glove box for something, then hopped out and trotted away. Kala did as she'd been told, but craned her head around to watch what Jay was doing—while remaining alert for potential carjackers.

He walked up on a young boy standing by a street light, smoking a cigarette. Kala flinched and almost got out of the car; there was no need to beat up on _kids_. But Jay didn't strike the boy. He had moved within the shadows of burnt-out street lights until he was close, seeming to appear from the darkness. The kid looked startled but didn't run, wary as an alley cat. Jay tossed the boy something—whatever he'd taken from the glove box—and disappeared again.

Kala frowned, wondering what the hell she'd just seen. She glanced at the glove box, not daring to open it. Her x-ray vision still worked, a little. Enough to show her a stack of papers, and to one side, a group of small rubber-banded packets. Startled, she realized each one had several hundred-dollar bills wrapped around some business cards. Social services, mostly: a food bank, Alcoholics Anonymous and Narcotics Anonymous, a health clinic that offered free STD testing…

Only then did Kala realize what she'd just seen. She whipped around, but the boy was gone, and Jay was getting back in the car. "Was that…? Jay, was that boy _hooking_? He can't be but maybe fourteen!"

"Yeah, almost too old for it," Jay said, and Kala punched his shoulder. "Ow! What? Look, Blur, this is life in this neighborhood. Bad shit goes down."

"And you just let him _go_?" she exclaimed.

Jay turned toward her, his mouth set in a hard line. "What's taking him in gonna accomplish? He ends up with a record for solicitation, does a night or two in juvie, maybe his parents find out what he's doing and they beat him. Or his friends find out and call him a fag. Taking him in just makes things worse for him."

She blinked, staring at him. To her mind, a couple nights in juvenile hall would at least mean a warm bed and three square meals a day. Kala had never thought about the repercussions Jay was describing.

He saw that uneasy surprise in her face and elaborated. "Listen, K, kids don't do this for _fun_. If he's out here looking for johns, he has a damn good reason to need the money. There's not much else a kid that age can do, except maybe deal drugs. And with the gangs around here, dealing's dangerous. Not to mention, he has to deal with _me_ if he decides to go that route."

"But…" Kala trailed off. It seemed wrong to not intervene, but Jay knew this area and its realities better than she did.

"I gave him two hundred bucks; it gets him off the street tonight, and maybe he'll actually look at the business cards I wrapped up in the money. If he's got a habit, he might get treatment. If he needs money for food or rent or health care, there's places he can get that, too. Assuming he's not too proud to take charity, which a lot of them are, but he knows he's gonna age out of the trade soon, so he might cave."

She could only sit in the car and blink. This kind of thing had never, ever occurred to her. Jay left her to contemplative silence and drove on. The boy's face, briefly glimpsed, remained in Kala's mind, haunting her. Just how bad did things have to get before standing on a street corner sounded like a good idea? And just how bleak was life here that doing so instead of accepting outside help was a point of _pride_?

Kala had heard of teenage girls running away from home and ending up as prostitutes. But she'd never realized they did it so young. Or that boys did it, too. This wasn't _right_. This kind of thing didn't happen in Metropolis … did it?

That was just the thing. It unsettled her to comprehend once and for all that Jay had had a point about how little she knew about this side of life and how hemmed in Bruce had been keeping her. She'd originally asked to be sent to Gotham for training because she knew that being with the Bats would keep her busy, keep her mind off the utter mess she'd made of her personal life. It had been about distraction, that and the need to finally prove to the capes that they were wrong about her. No one had been in a big hurry to get her on the streets, and Kala had been content with what they could teach her in-house to brush up on her combat skills. It had been enough to stick to a routine, go through the motions, play it as safe as the Bats were willing to let her.

It had taken some time, but she finally got what had pissed Jay off that first night. That it hadn't simply been inter-family issues that set him off. Jay had blown up at them for being woefully under-informed, not to mention for having her out with them on something this level, untrained to handle an operation of that caliber. It all clicked just from having seen that kid.

Stunned, Kala stared out into the Gotham shadows as they slipped by, though she felt Jay's eyes flick in her direction once or twice. Getting past the mixed feelings of simple human fury and utter embarrassment in herself would take some time. With his territory being the Bowery and, by default, Crime Alley, she should have known. Should have guessed. It wasn't that she was unaware that it was out there; she was the daughter of two investigative reporters, which meant that she usually knew the worst of what was happening in her city, but it had never been up close and personal, happening no more than twenty feet from where she sat. All she was doing was feeding into his perceptions of her as a lily-white spoiled princess held aloft, floating above the world with no clue of what life was really like.

Forming the words was harder than she expected, even in the darkness. Admitting shortcomings had never been her strong suit, but what was the trip about now if not facing her fears? "I … I think I owe you an apology," she started, making herself say the words. "You said when I first got here that I didn't get anything about the real Gotham. I argued with you; I stand corrected. You were right. I have a lot to learn about life here."

For a long moment there was no answer, just Jay looking straight ahead and watching the road. Finally, he said, "Took you long enough."

…

At first he didn't know how to take her apology. Jay wasn't used to dealing with people who apologized; Bruce sure as hell didn't, and neither did Jay himself most of the time. Not about the big, important stuff anyway. 'Sorry' was much easier to say when you bumped into a stranger and made them spill their coffee than in the kinds of situations he found himself in. 'Sorry I never avenged you' sounded just as hollow as 'Sorry for putting my replacement in the hospital'.

But Kala had just seen one of the most dismal truths Gotham had to offer. Sure, her initial reaction had been to freak out, wanting to fix it like any other wet-behind-the-ears cape who thought there was a neat solution for everything. But then she'd gotten quiet, and thought about it, and admitted he'd been right.

Jay had no idea how to react to that. If the apology was weirdly new, then someone acknowledging he was right was a whole other _Twilight Zone_ level of freaky.

The silence was stretching out though, so he had to do something. In the end he just said, "Took you long enough." Going for the gruff mentor vibe, meaning to leave it at that. But Kala's jaw actually dropped and she looked at him in such utter shock that he couldn't hold back the chuckle lurking beneath the words. Kala punched his shoulder, and just like that, things were back to normal.

…

They didn't get too long to relax, though. Soon enough Jay found them some more trouble to get into. Oracle called in to alert both of them of an incipient gang fight, and by the time they arrived, shots were already being fired. Kala swung into action, following Jay's lead. He, with the bright red helmet and the loud guns, played target, so she fell back and outflanked the fighters on the side that appeared to be winning. While they were distracted by Red Hood, none of them saw the Blur as more than a fist or a boot the second before it impacted.

It went by the book, almost too easy, and things didn't get hairy until the end. When there were only three men left to deal with, they suddenly panicked, shooting wildly in all directions. Jay dropped them in seconds with carefully-placed shots to the limbs, but Kala had to dive for cover. It was almost funny, when she thought about it: when they'd been aiming deliberately she'd avoided harm by not being where they thought she was, but when they'd fired randomly they'd come within a few feet of hitting her.

Jay was at her side in seconds. "You all right, K?" he asked gruffly.

Kala glanced at him, shrugging too nonchalantly. "Fine. Let's scram, I hear sirens."

A moment later they were in the car, and as they drove off Jay muttered, "Enough for one night. It's getting late, and your boyfriend'll have vapors if you come home with a bullet graze or something."

Kala narrowed her eyes at him. "What the hell? Did you get whacked in the head during that fight? I can only assume you're talking about Dick the Overprotective, but either you've got your wires crossed, or you've been glancing at the local gossip rags. It's a good excuse for me to be here, so knock it off. He's not my boyfriend, Jay."

Jay just scoffed. "Sure he's not."

She stared at him, his eyes unreadable behind the helmet. Yeah, he'd gotten a dig in there. She could almost feel the car grow warmer with just that look. "Excuse you? Why do you care, anyway?"

"Oh come on. You expect me to believe Dickie-Bird's acting like this because he's such a good friend?"

All of a sudden it fell into place. Kala gave him another disbelieving glare before raising her eyes heavenward and thumping against the back of her seat with a sigh. "'Acting like this _?'_ Oh, hell. That's why you've been like this. I should've known. He came and talked to you, didn't he? After the other night?"

Jay sneered. "He came looking for a fight because I gave his precious little princess a black eye. I damn near gave _him_ one, too."

That got an aggravated groan out of her, Kala raising her hands to rub her temples. " _Shit_. Jesus, you two never stop. Jay, look, I _told_ him not to. I told him I could handle this on my own. And if I couldn't, I'd quit myself if you didn't make me first. And of course he went ahead and did it anyway. Well-meaning but nosy. And it's not what you think."

…

For a second, Jay began to doubt. Everything he'd seen in Dick's body language and in Kala's said they were close, and they were attracted to each other, but those things didn't necessarily mean they were a couple. It was just extremely likely.

And then Kala gave an irritated sigh and pulled her hair out of its complicated knot, tugging her domino off as she did to tuck it into a pocket. The blue-black waves tumbled down to her shoulders, and she ran a hand through it before going back to trying to ease her headache, and the car suddenly smelled like Jay had driven through a candy store. One good whiff of that, and his mind took a sharp turn into territory best left unexplored.

It was ridiculous, but sometimes he forgot for a while that she was a girl in that particular sense of the word. A girly girl, someone who could probably spend a hundred bucks on makeup _and_ know what to do with it all. Jay had forgotten about the freaky nail polish she wore and the videos with the streaked hair and frilly outfits. Most of the time he thought of her in terms of her potential as a fighter and a teammate, the strengths and weaknesses of her personality, the power she could put behind a punch or a kick, and the speed with which she could block or dodge a blow.

And then she pulled something like this, and he remembered all of a sudden. Inhaling some kind of candy-flower scent, Jay glanced over at her, noticing again the curve of her lips and the way the light caught her features. She was stunningly beautiful, even after a fight, even probably exhausted.

Thoughts he couldn't afford to think. Jay made himself remember the publicity shots for her band that showed Kala grinning at the camera with Dick's oh-so-brotherly arm around her shoulders. They even looked good together, a couple of showboating divas to dance in the limelight. Yeah, well, he'd be out here in the dark getting shit done while they hammed it up.

Status quo successfully restored, in Jay's brain at least, he said aloud, "You want me to just drop you at the Manor? Since we're out and all. Save you a cab ride anyway."

It was only when she turned to him that he realized she'd been sitting there with her eyes closed. "Wait, hold up a second. Are you actually offering to do something _nice_ _?_ Don't you have a reputation to maintain, Mr. Hood?" she asked, giving him a skeptical look.

He was instantly on the defensive. "Hey, I could boot your ass out right here and let you walk. Woulda done it to Timmy; he needs the fresh air. I just figured, you did pretty good tonight, why not spoil you a little."

That, weirdly, got a slow and surprised smile. "And praise, too? Wow. I'm honored. Guess the diva can manage to do something right. Either that or you've got something completely insidious planned to wreck my world for tomorrow."

A dozen replies occurred to him, most of them salacious, and Jay bit his tongue against all of that nonsense. "Yeah, well … enjoy it while it lasts," he finally said, for once caught without a handy quip.

Kala just smiled at him. They were almost to the Manor before she spoke again. "And don't worry about Grayson the White Knight. I think the two of us are going to have a long conversation about boundaries. You shouldn't have any other unscheduled visits unless you provoke it on your own."

Jay just smirked at that, but didn't say anything. She'd yell at Dick, and likely as not Dick would come yell at _him_ again, and maybe this time he'd bust his interfering older brother in the mouth and loosen up those perfect straight teeth.

A few minutes later he'd let Kala out of the car and watched her walking up the drive. God, he hoped Dickie-bird was treating her right. Sometimes Golden Boy went through women like they were an all-you-can-eat buffet, sampling every dish on offer. Mr. Grayson had better damn well know this one wasn't just another plate of mashed potatoes sitting under a warmer for six hours. Kala was … Kala was a helluva dish, the kind of thing you could only get at a restaurant where the chef trained for years before they let him so much as peel a fuckin' carrot. She deserved better than to be Dickie-Bird's summer fling. Although he could understand why Dick would be all over her, considering how big of a Superfan he was.

Jay shoved such thoughts away as he drove off. Kala wasn't his problem, not in that sense. She was just here to train with him, and it worked better if he didn't think about who her dad was. The notion that her father might see some of the bruises he'd left on her had already crossed his mind, and Jay figured the only upside to that was the fact that heat vision was probably a pretty quick death.

Although … when she wasn't bringing his big bro down on him, or being prickly and defensive and just _waiting_ for him to fuck up, Kala was actually pretty fun to have around. She was starting to get his sense of humor, and it didn't hurt that she was easy on the eyes, too. Best of all, she was one _hell_ of a fighter.

Just thinking about the way she'd been out there tonight made his chest ache with things he couldn't quite define. Pride, definitely—Jay had seen his work in action and called it good. But it was more than just pride. He wanted to keep her safe, he'd gotten far more protective of her than Golden Boy would believe, but Jay also wanted to put her to a challenge, see what she could _really_ do. It wasn't possible to know what someone would actually do when it came down to a do-or-die moment, until the moment actually arrived. Simulations wouldn't cut it; Jay knew that. He had the feeling that Kala had the guts and the brains and the sheer will to pull off some serious badassery—when she had to. And part of him longed to see that happen.

Meanwhile the rest of him shouted at that one part for being an asshole. She'd had a _summer_ of training, plus whatever catch-and-fetch skills she'd picked up along the way. No way was she ready for a real test. Not yet. And Jay couldn't stand to imagine her failing. He'd realized by now just who Kala was and why she'd come to Gotham for training, after all.

A lot of heroes had made their own way. Her father had, Bruce had, most of the first generation had figured it out for themselves. Most of the second generation—the Titans, basically—had been trained for this. Someone like Kala, someone with powers, really did need some training. Without it, she was a wildcard—the very same wildcard he and Donna had argued over, when they'd been together.

Jay hadn't known anything about the Blur back then, except that Donna was of the opinion that she ought to be benched. Forcibly, if need be, and kept out of the game until she had some training. Apparently the Blur had shown up unexpectedly to a few events, and her intervention had caused a little chaos in the process of saving Superboy's bacon. That kind of thing drove Donna nuts.

Going dimension-hopping hadn't helped, either. They'd met a blonde Kryptonian about the same age, a _Kara_ Zor-El, Superman's cousin, who wore the red, blue, and yellow with pride and flew under the name Supergirl. That had irritated Donna even more, knowing that their world's female Kryptonian didn't even use a legacy title that most people would kill for, and that she treated the superhero thing as a part-time gig. Kala had been singing in dive bars then, waiting for her big break.

As a matter of fact, that might've been the fight that ended it. The relationship had broken up a week or so later, but it'd probably just limped along out of habit when the real damage was already done. Jay hadn't known who Kala was back then, and quite frankly didn't give a damn _what_ she did as long as it wasn't in Gotham and didn't fuck with his plans. But Donna's holier-than-thou attitude had pissed him off, probably because she sounded so much like Bruce when she was ranting.

And now he was training Kala himself. Probably wasn't public knowledge yet, but he wondered what Donna would think. Of course, Jay knew a little more about Kala now than either of them had back then. He'd called Bruce early in Kala's training with him and asked the simple, obvious question: why the hell was she starting so late?

Bruce's reply still echoed in his memory. 'Their mother forbade anyone to push them into this. She didn't want either of them in training until they were eighteen. Events took that choice away from her when they were both sixteen. Jason ended up in training early. Kala wound up postponing hers, we thought indefinitely. She meant to turn her back on this life forever, but she couldn't stay away if she felt her brother was in trouble. Everyone has to face their destiny eventually.'

Jay still didn't know _what_ , exactly, had happened. He'd figured out the ages and looked through the records he had access to—and some he didn't—to know something major went down in Nevada. Lois Lane had been shot that year, and half the League had been camping out in Kansas to protect Superman's extended family while the other half dealt with whatever was in Nevada. Something to do with Lex Luthor, was all Jay could discern.

Come to think of it, Dick had been involved in that. Maybe if Big Brother did decide to pay another visit, Jay could figure a way to sweat it out of him. Whatever had happened to spook Kala off the superhero gig, Jay needed to know about it. That thought occupied him for the rest of the drive back.


	19. Mission Readiness Report

Leaning against one of the concrete pillars at the entrance to Jay's private garage, Kala sighed and hitched her bag higher up on her aching shoulder. She couldn't help shaking her head at that. Her shoulders had _never_ ached just from carrying a bag. At this point, she felt tired all the time, like she was fighting off a cold.

At least there'd be coffee once she got inside. Kala needed it, as Jay had finally cracked down a week ago. "No more sun," he'd said. "Stay inside during the day, and keep the curtains drawn. We train at night now that you're on kiddie-patrol. You're _still_ breaking out the speed to save your own ass on the street even if you don't use it sparring, so I know you're still getting at least some sun somewhere."

She'd glowered at that, but couldn't disagree with the logic. The idea of training without powers made a lot of sense. Kryptonians were vulnerable to magic, after all, and what would she do if she ran up against a villain with access to that who stripped her of her powers when she'd been relying on them all this time? Get her ass handed to her, most likely.

There had only been one problem. "Jay, you don't get it. I've still got to do some promos and public appearances with Bruce and the boys," Kala had pointed out. "The label's already pissed that I can't do anything at night and only on some days. I can't go _completely_ nocturnal."

He hadn't liked that, but Jay had hit on the idea of using sunscreen to minimize as much exposure as possible, and she'd tried to abide by that despite not being in the habit of using the stuff. Which was why, a week later, she felt run-down and achy and more out of sorts than she'd ever felt.

Any further reminiscing was cut off by the sudden sound of mariachi music coming from her bag. Kala yipped in surprise and pawed for the phone with renewed energy. It went to voicemail before she grabbed it, but rang again while it was still in her hand. "Sebast! _Chulo_ , I told you I can't always answer the phone, I'm really busy…"

His voice was a balm to her soul, even if the tone was irascible. "I know that, _mami_ , but I miss your voice so much I was gonna call your voicemail a couple dozen times just to hear you say 'KLK can't come to the phone right now, but if you leave a message I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Unless you're Sebast, and then I'm not gonna talk to you 'til Thursday, you greedy beast.' Nice message."

The aggravation was pretend; he missed her, and she missed him. Too much for either of their good. Wasn't that the whole point of this summer? Not just proving to people like Lady Sparkle-Hair that she was good enough to hang out in the big kids' club, but getting her mind and heart away from Sebast before she did something stupid and imploded the friendship that had sustained her heart and soul for the last _decade_.

"You know I love you," was all she could say.

"I know," he replied. "I love you, too. I just miss you."

He'd said it, and Kala had to close her eyes for a moment before she could muster the appropriate level of lighthearted snark. "Yeah, well, I'm sure you have plenty of fans to comfort you out there in LA, my pretty little manwhore."

"Of course I do. Hell, I'm getting my dick sucked right now," Sebast teased.

Kala laughed out loud at that, and then the rumble of a motorcycle engine sounded just up the block. "Aw, hell. Someone's here. I gotta go, Chupi. I love you. We'll talk Thursday, okay? For hours, if you want. And tell Darcy that I'll send over the sound file she wanted tomorrow afternoon. Things are scheduled a little too tight tonight."

Sebast sighed. "Yeah, okay. I'll tell her. Kala? Can't wait 'til you come home, _mi amor_."

"Me neither, handsome," Kala said, but that was no longer strictly true. There was something weirdly compelling about this whole training deal. Pushing herself to the limit, and then going beyond, was its own kind of satisfaction.

He hung up on his end, and Kala closed her phone case just in time to hear Jay taunting her. "What's that? Phone sex with Dickie-Bird on my time? Kala, I'm devastated."

She whirled to give him the stink-eye and replied in her most sarcastic voice. "No, I'm currently cheating on Dick with Tim. I figure if it irritates you so much, I might as well score both brothers."

Jay actually laughed at that, and Kala found herself smiling. "No, really. It's my friend Nunya, Jay. Nunya Bidness. So let's get to work, all right? What's on the menu?"

Jay only eyed her after he unlatched his helmet and slid it off, revealing that damnable smug expression. "My, my, aren't we impatient tonight?" he drawled, pressing a button on his bike's controls to activate the inner garage door. That unpleasant grinding and screeching filled the air long enough for Jay to dismount the bike and roll it under the door to park it safely inside, Kala following behind.

"So, what, no trench tonight?" he teased her as he pulled a paper bag from a compartment on the rear of the bike and set it on the long work bench, depositing his helmet in the usual place.

Kala resisted the urge to snap out a retort at him, instead smiling sweetly. Her tone didn't have to match her words. "Uniform's in the bag, Einstein, and it's over ninety-five degrees out there. Didn't feel much like taking a cab in costume. I also didn't want to have to listen to more bullshit over the damn thing than I have to tonight." As if she didn't have enough crap to deal with; trekking into Gotham with her alter-ego in a duffel bag hadn't exactly been ideal. Even if her reinforced uniform boots _were_ subtle enough to wear with her jeans and tank top. She'd been wearing the trench over her uniform so she didn't have to change, but it was just too damn hot tonight. The weight of the bag on her shoulder was starting to get to her, dammit.

Jay just shrugged at that, his mouth curved up in a teasing grin. "As often as you're coming down here, Daddy Bruce oughta let you have the Lamborghini for the night, dontcha think?"

"Oh, har, har. In this neighborhood, they'd have the thing stripped down to screws in seconds and we both know it. _You_ of all people should know that," she quipped back pointedly, hitching her bag up again. "Give me a couple minutes to go change, so we can get out of here, all right?"

"Not necessary," Jay countered, shaking his head. "We won't need uniforms for tonight's training."

With that, he upended the paper bag into his hand, a small box landing in his palm that Kala recognized on sight. Ammunition for a .22. Well, wasn't that an interesting development? Kala could only hope…

"Tonight, we move onto the big stuff, that you'd _never_ get proper training on in the Cave." His smirk twisting deeper, Jay reached into a holster on his thigh and pulled out his chosen tool for the evening, setting it on the bench next to the box of ammo.

A wave of satisfaction and gleeful anticipation spread out from her core at the sight, all her grouchiness and fatigue evaporated. And from his smug look, no one had told Jay a damn thing about her and firearms. The fun had just doubled, if that was the case.

Kala grinned.

…

Jay noticed Kala watching him carefully as he partially disassembled the pistol, named all the major working parts for her, and then reassembled it in the proper order. She seemed to be paying close attention, but nobody was ever comfortable with guns until they got some practice. "All right. This is the clip—the magazine, if you wanna be fancy. Just push the bullets down here and then slide them back. It'll hold eight." He filled the clip for her, then slid it into the pistol. "You can give it a smack to make sure it's seated right, like this. Then you jack the slide, which chambers a round."

Kala's nod was earnest as he finished his demo, teeth worrying her lower lip while she did. "Okay, I think I've got it."

Yeah, sure she did. Now for the only _important_ part of today's lesson. "Right. So here's the deal. _Every gun is loaded._ Even if you just unloaded it yourself, you always assume—and act—like every gun is loaded. Which means you don't ever, no matter how sure you are that it's empty, you don't _ever_ point it at anything you don't want to kill."

The nod was quick then, Kala playing the dutiful student, but something told him she wasn't quite giving this her full attention. Or maybe that was him.

"That includes me," he added quickly.

That made her smirk at him. "All right, all right. I'm paying attention, Red. All guns are always loaded, never point them at anyone you don't want dead. Gotcha. I am thoroughly warned. Can we get to the fun part now? Please?"

 _Shit, I'll be lucky if she doesn't shoot me in the foot before we're done. Or in the fucking face._ But seeing as there was a time factor involved tonight, he decided to show her how to aim and fire before making her load and unload the gun. "Yeah, come on. I've got some targets up."

Gesturing for Kala to follow him into the training room, he led her a solid red line he'd taped to the floor, having turned the space into his own mini firing range. Once at the line, around fifty feet from the paper targets he'd taped up to sandbags against the opposite concrete wall—all Joker faces, with that sick leer, of course—Jay handed her the loaded gun, warning her, "Keep your finger _outside_ the trigger guard for now." Kala handled it carefully, as if afraid it would go off, glancing up at him for instruction. "All right, now, wrap your thumb around this side so it's secure in your hand, and close your fingers here, except the trigger finger. Leave that loose for now." Jay took her slender fingers in his, demonstrating the proper grip.

"And then you wrap the other hand around like this, for stability. You can shoot one-handed, but if you've got the time, go for the two-handed grip," he said, trying not to think about the fact that he had both of her hands in his as he explained. Structure-wise, she was pretty damn delicate, but she was a hell of a lot stronger than anyone would expect; he'd had the broken nose to prove it. Jay tried to shrug that off; this was a live-fire exercise, dammit, he had no business getting distracted.

"Got it," Kala said, her tone serious. So far she'd kept the gun pointed out and slightly up, a safe direction, but her arms were still flexed. No more of that silly showiness; in the last weeks Kala had settled down to being a serious student. Even if her posture showed that she'd never handled a gun before, he could tell she was trying to impress him.

Stepping behind her, Jay reached around and wrapped his hands around hers again. He guided her into extending her arms all the way into firing position, and was surprised that she seemed not to notice how he was practically wrapped around her, the way they were standing.

 _He_ noticed. His nose was full of the scent of her hair, and their bodies were pressed close enough together that he couldn't help being aware of every curve beneath her tank top and jeans. Jay had only recently become aware again that Kala was a girl, and an extremely attractive girl at that. Lately he couldn't seem to _stop_ noticing. He was still pretty damn conflicted where she was concerned; it was like he'd become two people, one of whom still thought even a properly-trained Super had no business in Gotham, and one who wouldn't have minded keeping her.

No, on one level he wouldn't have minded having her around a little longer, like say maybe the next year or three. Especially with that damn candy-scent of hers making him wonder if she tasted as good as she smelled. "Now, you want to hold your arms out like this, but don't lock your elbows," Jay went on, swallowing down the arousal that he could practically taste on his tongue, "because the recoil is gonna bounce the gun up and you want to control that fluidly. Well, a .22 doesn't have a lot of recoil, but you want to start right. So, arms out, feet shoulder width apart…"

He trailed off as she leaned back against him slightly to alter her stance. It really, really sucked that she was the perfect height for him, the softness of her hair against his jaw and the curve of her butt socked right into his groin. _Sports. Think about sports. I fucking hate baseball. Boring ass shit._ "Okay, now what?" Kala said uncertainly, tipping her head back to look at him.

"Now you aim. You want to line up the front and rear sights on the target, okay? And don't close one eye. Lots of people do, but it wrecks your peripheral vision and screws with your depth perception." He could see enough of her face to watch her eyes narrow at first, her teeth biting down on her lip in concentration. Keeping his touch light on her hands, he let her aim, just giving her a little extra support. And no extra support from south of the belt, thank fuck.

"Got it," she finally reported, mercifully without leaning back against him anymore or wiggling around.

Jay took a deep breath and told himself to focus. If he kept thinking about her and not the gun, he'd probably wind up getting shot. "Now put your trigger finger inside the guard, and _slowly_ squeeze the trigger. Don't jerk it or anything; it'll fuck up your aim." Following his instructions, she turned her face away from the gun and partly closed her eyes in anticipation of the shot, but Jay nudged her in the side of the head with his chin. "Hey! Don't look away from what you're shooting at. There won't be much muzzle flash anyway."

"All right, all right," Kala grumbled. She took a deep breath, squared up her stance again, and ever so slowly squeezed the trigger. When it came, the bang wasn't too loud, and a hole appeared in the target about ten inches from the bull's-eye, wide and high and nowhere near the Joker's smug fucking grin.

"Not bad, for a beginner," Jay said, unable to squash the tiniest patronizing note in his voice. Clearly, he had his work cut out for him.

She turned her head toward him as much as she could within the circle of his arms then, pressing one shoulder back against his chest. "Can I try on my own?"

"Sure, if you can unload and reload it," Jay said, stepping back. No way she'd gleaned enough from his lesson to pull that off yet. Not even if she'd been paying the closest of attention. She just wasn't—

But he had the barest sliver of a second to register Kala's sudden and very evil grin before—

Before Kala stripped out the magazine, jacked the slide to eject the chambered bullet, caught the round and slipped it back into the magazine, snapped the clip back in with a practiced smack, cocked the gun, brought it up and moved fluidly into firing stance, and then squeezed off two rounds in quick succession.

His brain slowly catching up and processing what Kala had just done, Jay realized that both shots had landed within a couple inches of the bull's-eye this time, one taking out the Joker's left eye, and one smack in the center of his forehead. A perfect double-tap.

Kala was no beginner.

 _Sonofabitch, I've just been played,_ he thought. "So … you know guns," Jay said in bemusement. All of a sudden all that snuggling backwards stuff seemed _deliberate_. Thank God he hadn't popped a boner in the middle of it; she would've passed out laughing at him.

She did laugh merrily, and it was the first time he'd seen her so delighted since their sun-deprivation experiment had begun. Her grin was infectious when she beamed it at him, obviously proud of herself for fooling him. "Oh, come _on,_ Jay. It's called using an advantage. You're a better detective than that; you wanted me to step up my game, so I did."

"Yeah, but that only works if there's any kind of chance I could've figured out the girl with the laser eyes also knows how to shoot," Jay replied, but he was grinning. He'd always admired moxie, and he had to give her props for fooling him. It was a dick move, really, but a good one.

Hazel eyes rolled. "Think about it. My mother is Lois Lane. The army brat? Her father was a three-star general? I've been shooting since I was like twelve." Her eyes just glowed with mischief, then that smile went wicked. "Speaking of which, got anything bigger than a .22?"

Oh yeah, she was definitely coming up to par quickly. Unable to hide a grin of his own, Jay jerked his head toward the inner-garage, where his armory was concealed. "I've got everything up to and including rocket-launchers. But how's about we start with a nine mil?"

Kala shrugged, feigning boredom with an aggrieved sigh. "Fine, what a way to ruin a girl's excitement. So, even if I know my way around guns, this is going to be a refresher? Baby steps for the little princess whether she likes it or not, right?"

"Heh, right," he returned, but as he made to head back toward his garage to raid his armory, a high-pitched beep sounded from inside his left pocket. "Fuck," he swore, stopping in place to fish out his comm and tuck it into his ear, activating the unit with a tap. "O, this had better be pretty damn important."

"No time for snark, Red," Oracle's voice said in his ear, its usual computerized tones buzzing. "Got an armed robbery in progress at Tri-State Medical Supply on Fifty-Seventh and Grant, shots fired, two suspects. You're the closest body we have on the ground tonight."

All of a sudden the light-hearted snarky fun went out of his evening as his entire nervous system went on red-alert. "What about GCPD?" he asked as he turned to catch Kala's questioning expression, her eyebrows knitted together.

"None close enough to respond before you can get there, though they're on their way. There's a traffic snarl from the let-out of the Knights game blocking them outside WayneTech Center; it'll be a while."

"Fuck," he spat again, clenching his jaw in frustration. "Wait. Tri-State Medical Supply?" he asked, a flare of realization going off in his head.

"Yes, the main offices," O confirmed.

"Dammit, it's a distraction!" Jay shouted, already running for the inner-garage to gear up. "It's Black Mask, but Fifty-Seventh is too small for what he wants. He's moving on their central warehouse on Sixty-Ninth! Trying to pick up where he left off."

"Damn. How certain are you that Fifty-Seventh is just misdirection?" she asked, and he could hear keys clicking.

"Positive, O. Just two guys and they're already shooting? It's a sacrifice play, he knows we're watching him. We'll be at the warehouse in five. You'd better get someone else on the robbery. And tell the Commish he's slacking. Red out." But when he turned, Kala was staring at him with serious intensity, waiting to be briefed.

For a few seconds he considered leaving her on lockdown—Kala had only been on kiddie patrol. She was nowhere near ready; she still had two more weeks of training even on the compressed schedule.

Then again … when had any of them ever been ready? Kala was here, she was handy in a fight, and if it got hairy she could run for backup faster than anyone else in town. Taking a deep breath, Jay said, "Come on, you got thirty seconds to get in uniform. D'you catch all that?"

She wasted two seconds on complete shock, her eyes wide, and then she locked down. _Good_ _girl. Always be ready for anything._ Kala nodded without argument as she caught up with him, literally ripping open her duffel in her hurry when he tossed it at her. "Most of it. Black Mask is hitting a warehouse?"

"It's a supply run. He's restocking his human chop-shop. Gonna make a second go at the organ-harvesting business, the moron. Knew it was just a matter of time," Jay explained, quick-changing into the long-sleeved shirt and lightly-armored leather jacket that he kept upstairs in case of emergencies, Kala struggling to get her own gear on. "That stupid top is _really_ not practical for this kinda shit, Kala," he went on as he strapped on his weapons belt, checked the clip on his favorite nine mil and holstered it, then sheathed his _kris_ and grabbed his red helmet and snapped it secure over his head.

"Jay, for the fifteenth time, put a sock in it, will you? Even if we had the option, now is not the goddamn time for you to be bringing this up. And you bitching about it isn't making this any faster." Kala didn't even bother glancing in his direction, but he could hear the tension in her voice. She was nervous, he could tell by the stiff posture, but no protest. No matter what was happening in her mind, she never slowed.

"Let's _move!"_ he shouted at her as she finally got her duster on and pulled her hair up into a quick knot, his bike quick to come to life as he straddled it and started the engine.

"Back off, Red, _I'm_ waiting for _you_ ," she spat back, taking her place on the seat behind him and wrapping her arms around his middle as he gunned it to take them out of the garage. "You can play haute couture fashion editorialist later."

 _Of all the fucking nights,_ he bitched to himself when they hit the pavement outside. No way was Kala ready for round two with Mask's goons in her current state. He regretted for an instant that he had pushed for an almost complete lack-of-sunlight diet for her right now. Too late for that. They didn't exactly have much choice in the scheme of things, now did they?

…

With the bike left a block north, they hoofed it the rest of the way, landing as lightly as possible once they hit the warehouse roof. Or at least attempting to. Kala couldn't resist a wince at the dull thuds she couldn't quite stop her boots from making with each step as they crossed to the rear of the building and perched over the loading dock in the alley below. After Jay brought up the damn costume again, her mind had latched on that to keep herself calm. God, what was it about tonight? Nothing was going at all as planned. _Just not up to par. Moving too slow, stupid boots feel too heavy_ _. And I freaking hate it when he's right. This thing just wasn't made for stealth_ _,_ Kala complained silently while she tried to lighten her step. If only she could fly or had some speed right now, it wouldn't be a problem. Hell, even a hover would help. Her former high level of energy would have been a blessing, as well. And of _course_ , Jay moved like a freakin' ninja next to her. At least he was so focused that he wasn't nagging her about it, for once. Maybe he had had a point about this, but she'd be damned before she admitted it.

A glance down found just two of Mask's men guarding the truck that they'd pulled right up to the warehouse door. Wasn't _that_ familiar? Anger flared deep in Kala's belly at the sight of them. That anyone _dared_ to do such a thing, that they would even _try_ running something this flat-out evil, got her adrenaline racing for the fight. Powers or no powers, it would be very satisfying to bust some heads tonight.

"You know how he works. Would he do the same basic play as last time?" Kala whispered to Jay. If it was, they could play this the same way as before: distract and disarm. Easy way to play to her strengths, especially if there were fewer men involved.

But a shake of Jay's head, his helmet catching the yellowed light from the alley, squashed that idea. "There'll be at least five more inside, each hitting a different part of the warehouse."

Well, shit. Unease quivered down her spine, but she forced it away. Where the hell did she get off? She had no right to be nervous about going up against long odds without her powers. The boys did it every night. That had been Jay's whole reasoning for their training together; nice to see how well she was progressing. Shamed by the thought, Kala forced herself into ruthless focus. She'd been training for a moment just like this; now she only had to trust in what she'd learned. "Got a plan, then?" she asked more calmly than she felt.

Kala could've sworn he cursed under his breath then, looking down over the ledge again, but he turned to her and tapped the side of his helmet. "I'll take out these two. You head around front and come in that way; we'll coordinate by comm and sneak in on the rest one by one."

Coming through the front door into unknown numbers and positions of enemies? Yeah, that sounded like loads of fun. "How are we gonna find them? I don't exactly have much to work with here, and hitting the lights would be a bad move."

Jay tapped his helmet again, this time hitting a hidden switch that Kala hadn't noticed before, and his white lenses seemed to shift to a pale green. "Night vision and infrared."

Of course. Two of the very abilities she was missing at the moment. How useless did that make _her_ feel? Bracing herself for what was sure to come next, she rolled hazel eyes under her domino. Should have seen that coming. "Bats and their toys," she muttered. "C'mon, show-off. Let's roll, then." He nodded, and she headed for the front as quietly as she could.

…

They had to hurry if they wanted to catch these goons by surprise. So as soon as Kala took off, Jay crouched at the edge of the roof, looking down at the two men below. It was just too easy to pitch a piece of roof-gravel between them and into the open truck. When they both turned, he somersaulted down behind them, landing silently on bent knees to absorb the impact. They were still looking at the truck, wondering where the noise had come from, when he stood up and said in conversational tones, "Lovely night, isn't it?"

Both thugs whirled toward him, reaching for their guns in unison, but even as they turned Jay grabbed them both by the backs of their heads and smacked their foreheads together sharply. The impact was enough to stun them both, and he left them gift-wrapped in the back of the truck.

From the instant he landed to the moment he turned away from the hog-tied and gagged men, it had taken less than a minute. "You in, Blur?" he murmured into the comm as he turned and stepped into the loading bay. No noise, no movement, no heat signatures, so he was good to go.

"Clearing the front offices – one down and wrapped. You?" Her voice came tense and tight, but steady. Hell, she wasn't ready for this, but at least she was careful enough to be worried. He could only hope she wasn't worried enough to screw up—there was a fine balance of tension necessary to this work. Too scared and too cocky could both get you killed.

His own reply was steady, showing no trace of his doubt. "Dock's clear. Heading in." On the other side of the loading bay doors, Jay found himself in a large, open space with stacks of crates to his right, and another room to his left. In the far corner, beyond a conveyor belt assembly, was a smaller enclosed space, and one of the doors to it was just slightly ajar.

"See you, Hood," Kala commented, and he could pick up the faint glow of her body heat through the crack in the door to what must be the offices. Nothing else was moving or giving off heat, but there was a whole section he couldn't see around the corner from the room on his left.

"Got you, too, Blur. See anything in the corner opposite?"

She dropped to one knee before peering around the corner, a precaution when most people tended to look for movement at head-height, and shoot at chest-height. "Nothing moving. It's dark back in there – shelves to the ceiling."

Well, shit. If they checked that section out, they left the enclosed room open. If they went for the enclosed room first, anybody back in the dark area could come out and be waiting outside the door. They'd have to stay split up, each take one problem area. But there was still another complication – a set of doors in the far wall, each big enough to drive a forklift through. There was no way to cover everything all the time.

"There's doors in the wall behind you," Jay told her, since she might not have seen them. "They make noise if they open. We'll leave them for now and take the two spots we can see. Cover me while I check this room first."

"Got it." Funny, he'd expected her to be more high-handed when they were at work, already had a speech planned about experience trumping powers, but so far Kala was letting him take the lead. Interesting. Maybe he'd drilled enough sense into her after all, and his worries about her suddenly deciding to be a Super once in a real fight were unfounded. He could only hope.

Jay sidled up to the door into the enclosed room, feeling horribly exposed under the yellowish emergency lights, and peeked through the small glass window. He was tense, ready to duck from gunfire if anything moved, but all he saw was more boxes. The view was blurry thanks to condensation on the window, but his infrared picked up at least one hot spot on a box stacked near the door.

Reflex born of training had him ducking even before his mind processed the fact that he was seeing a handprint, which meant Black Mask's goons were in there, or had been mere moments ago. The condensation was easily explainable, too – that area had to be climate-controlled, so it stored more delicate stuff.

Jay put himself around the corner from it before he murmured, "Someone's been in there recently. Might still be. Unlikely but possible. We can't open the door without announcing ourselves, so when we go in, we'll do it hard and fast and take 'em by surprise."

"Right," Kala said. "On your mark, then."

"First I'm gonna check this out. They could all be in here." With that he started slipping along the end cap of each row of shelves, peering down each aisle. Infrared and night-vision gave him a view better than full daylight, and to Kala's credit she didn't bitch about being left on watch. Then again, she probably couldn't see a fucking thing back in here, either.

"Movement," Kala whispered through the comm. "I hear movement in the back corner. Be careful, Hood."

"Preaching to the choir, Blur," he muttered under his breath. Checking around a corner from a low angle was second nature, and he peered down the suspicious aisle from just a few inches above the ground.

Four men, one on a ladder handing boxes down to two others, who were loading a forklift while the fourth just watched. They had penlights flickering around in the darkness, so he and Kala could approach almost unseen. He had expected five guys inside, and counting the one Kala had taken out in the offices, he'd been exactly right.

His voice barely more than a murmur, Jay gave the go-ahead, and Kala was at his side in seconds. He pointed her down one aisle while he climbed the shelves silently to drop on their enemies from an unexpected direction.

Time to put these assholes out of commission.

…

Heart racing, Kala moved as lightly as she could to the end of the aisle. Her hearing was still sharp, sharper than human, and since it was the last of her powers left she focused all of her attention on it. Four men breathing, three of them deeply and in rhythm with the work they were doing. Footsteps, the scuff of soles on concrete. Fabric rustling. Boxes thumping into place. A faint metallic clinking, and a man's voice growling the time, followed by an angry, "Hurry it up."

"What's the rush?" Jay's voice floated down, freezing them all in their tracks. While they were still trying to figure out where that had come from, Kala was already around the corner and into the fray. She wanted the one who'd just checked his watch, the leader of the little crew, the only one not working. The only one who could be a guard.

Kala scythed a kick at his knees, and swung her elbow sharply into the back of his head as he went down. One down, three to go, all of them turning toward her and drawing weapons. She didn't charge, she rolled, an acrobatic tumble learned from the various former and current Robins, and came up under their guns and in the middle of them.

Only by the time she did that, there were two, not three. Jay had landed on one, brought him down and knocked him out, which left them an opponent apiece. He knew she was right-handed, so she'd go for the one to her left, where she could build momentum for a swing. That left the one on her right to him. Kala and Jay dove into action as if they'd choreographed this ahead of time, whirling through a series of strikes that ended with the last two men on the floor. All of that sparring practice came to good use now, with each of them knowing the other's moves and strengths so well.

Kala grinned fiercely at Jay, taking out her zip ties. "Nice work," he told her, and she preened under the praise, bending to secure the closest man.

That was when everything went to hell.

Jay was leaning down to tie one of his, and Kala heard a very familiar metallic click. Not the watch on the wrist of the man Jay was moving; further than that, and a sound she _knew_ intimately. The sound of an automatic pistol's hammer cocking. She reacted without a thought, diving at Jay and knocking him to the floor in an ungraceful tangle as the bullet drilled into the wall over their heads. Only then did the sound of the shot reach them, echoing in the high-ceilinged space.

He wasted no time. Jay dumped her off of him and went after the gunman, who must've been in the climate-controlled room when they attacked. Kala rolled to her feet, stamping down hard on the edge of panic; that had been so fucking _close_. Still, it was all right…

The struggling men crashed into the shelves, and boxes started to fall from up above, small metal parts ringing on the bare concrete floor. Kala fought not to slip; Jay and his opponent had it even worse, both of them stumbling. This was turning into a farce, and Kala leaped off the ground at the same moment Jay did. The shelves gave her enough support even if they swayed a bit, and Jay used the height advantage to kick his opponent in the face and put him down for the count.

They looked at each other for a minute, both of them starting to grin, when the bay doors in the other wall rolled open. Jay's expression went wooden, and he muttered, "They were expecting us. Get clear and call for backup."

"Fuck that," she snapped, and leaped across empty space to the next set of shelves. Jay was more agile here, more sure of his balance, but he weighed more and made the shelves rock harder when he wasn't being absolutely careful not to do so.

The four men coming up the aisles knew who to expect, that was for sure. They had their guns trained upward, and Kala dove off the edge as one squeezed off a shot. She fell thirty feet to the warehouse floor and landed in a roll that took her out of their line of fire. "I said get out of it!" Jay yelled, dropping a box of parts onto the goons. Glass shattered and scattered across the floor as they dodged it, shooting at _him_ now.

"And I said _no_ ," Kala growled, coming around the corner with every ounce of speed she had, which wasn't much. But as they turned to track her she jumped, kicked off the shelves, and pulled a hand-stand on the shoulder of one of the astounded goons, driving him to his knees. Now they didn't know _where_ to aim, and she kicked one's gun out of his hand and down the long dark aisle. "You don't leave your team, no matter what."

Swearing, Jay dropped into their midst, disarming two more. Kala was about to say something snide about how she hadn't planned on running away while there was still fun to be had, when the fourth man reached inside his jacket. He was dressed a little better than the others, and unlike them hadn't had a gun. Kala didn't see what he _did_ have until it sliced a path of brightness through the gloom.

She heard Jay hiss as the man swung at him; some kind of long knife or short sword, lethally sharp, and the guy knew how to use it. But Kala couldn't pay attention to that. She still had two men on their feet, including the one she'd originally used as a launching board, and even without their guns they were a threat. She was hemmed in now, and fought back, parry and strike and pray for a little bit of luck as they both came after her.

Up was always a valid direction; she'd learned that very well during training. Kala swung herself up onto the shelves again, knocking down a couple more boxes in the process. Nothing useful this time, nothing her enemies could trip over. The one with the knife was still squared off with Jay, the pair of them locked in on each other so intensely it almost looked like they were dancing. Jay's _kris_ and the stranger's blade met in midair a couple times, the metal chiming oddly as both of them feinted and slashed.

" _Go_ ," Jay growled, and Kala launched herself through a gap in the stacks of boxes, coming out on the other side. She probably should do what he ordered, fall back and call for help, but that meant leaving Jay with three opponents, one of whom looked to be about his equal.

No. It wasn't possible for her to run away. Instead Kala ran back toward the fight. The two men who'd been after her had split up, each taking an end so one of them could catch her, and she pulled a spinning back-kick against the unlucky one who met her. Her boot to his chest brought him to the ground, and another kick to the side of the head kept him there.

Now the knifeman. Kala rounded the corner just as he slipped inside Jay's guard. Jay sucked in his gut and leaped back to avoid it, and for a second Kala thought he'd gotten away clean. Then she saw the way he landed, off-balance and fighting the instinct to curl forward over his wound. The man's knife had been just a little bit too long.

And there was another one somewhere close by. This had to be _quick_. Kala rushed him, bringing both hands up as if she intended to strike at his head or neck. But at the last second, while he was blocking high, she broke out a move no one in Gotham had taught her.

At full speed, Kala suddenly dropped to her knees and folded her body backward, sliding right between the man's legs. _That_ little move was from the end of the final set on their last concert tour, when she ran across the stage and slid beneath Sebast as the chords crashed around her and his voice rose in a defiant snarl. Only this time, she grabbed her opponent's ankles and yanked him down on his face.

Or so it should've gone, but he was agile as a cat, and even while she was rising to her feet he was rolling over. The knife flicked out, and Kala darted in, fist to the chin slamming right into major nerve centers. A lot of people went out from that alone, but since she was already inside his range she made sure of it with a knife-hand blow to the side of his neck. The man finally dropped like a marionette with its strings cut.

Nearby, way too close, she heard a grunt and a thud. Instinct had her on her feet before she realized that Jay had taken care of the last man, grabbed him in a headlock and rammed him face-first into the shelves. A short jab to the temple had ensured his unconsciousness.

Kala and Jay looked at each other for a moment, not hearing anything else, except her fast breath which she struggled to get under control against the tide of adrenaline. "We must be doing something right, if he's sending out extra men _and_ creating distractions," she managed to say shakily.

Jay was just staring at her, holding one hand pressed against his abdomen, his helmeted gaze fixed on her arm. "Kala…"

Something in his tone, like choked disbelief, had her instantly on edge. "What is it?" Even with her x-ray vision fazing out, Kala took a quick peek under the red hood. Jay's expression surprised her, the way he paled a bit. Only when she looked down to see what had absorbed his attention did she see the tear in her duster. _Wow, that was close, he cut my sleeve wide open_ –

Then the pain hit, and she knew the man had cut more than her coat.


	20. Muddled Clarity

"Try not to bleed on the floor, huh?"

It actually took a moment for his words to get through, Kala only blinking at Jay as he dug around for the right first aid supplies in his little makeshift med-bay, her right hand protectively curled around her left forearm. The last thing she was prepared to deal with right now was the throbbing pain, so she tried to push it to the back of her mind. But _damn_ , was it hard. She hadn't felt anything like this since she'd broken her arm when she was a kid years ago. It felt as though the world was tilting slightly, all her perceptions off. She barely remembered the ride back, leaving the warehouse only once the sound of sirens reached them. Jay had pushed his bike to its limits, with both of them bleeding.

An attempt to glance down at the wound just made her dizzy. She wasn't actually dripping. Was she? "Sit down," Jay ordered her, pointing vaguely at a stool nestled between two storage boxes.

When she realized he was talking through gritted teeth, she blinked again, swayed in place a little, and let herself drop onto the stool. Why did she feel so heavy? "Stop the bullshit, Red. You're more than a little hurt, too," she pointed out, turning her gaze on his midsection, where that bastard's knife had torn right through the leather of Jay's jacket in a slice that had him bleeding a lot more profusely than she was. "Of the two of us, you need to be the one sitting down, not me. We need to get _you_ fixed up."

Jay shook his head minutely. "Lucky strike. Didn't hit anything vital. I'll live."

 _That_ got Kala's attention, making her laugh a little at the absurdity of it. The black humor in his statement shook her out of the daze she'd been in since they'd sped away from the alley behind the warehouse. Seriously? He'd _live_? What kind of macho-bullshit answer was that? "Jay, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but _you're_ the one bleeding on the floor," she said, watching the slow spread of blood down the front of his pants with growing trepidation. "You took a knife to the gut, for God's sake. Should be at the hospital, not fishing out the 'oh-shit' kit."

But even that was ridiculous, Kala knew that as soon as she said it. They both knew that a hospital was out of the question, unless one of them was seriously bleeding out, gasping for their last breaths. And even heading back to the Cave was a bad idea, both because of distance and because they couldn't afford to let Bruce see how badly tonight had shaken out. Even if Alfred _was_ the best medic outside Gotham General. Giving Bruce reason to terminate their training sessions was a non-starter.

Looking up, Kala caught Jay's half-smirk at her, his eyes bright with mischief and pain.

"Take off your duster," he ordered.

At that, Kala only blinked again. Didn't help that the world was getting fuzzy again. Maybe this was worse than she had originally thought. "What?" she asked, furrowing her brow.

…

Seeing her this out of it, Jay cursed himself. _Shouldn't have brought her out,_ he swore silently. He shouldn't have gone up against Mask with her at his side. Should've told Babs they needed backup, that they weren't in any shape to respond without it, no matter how close they were to the neighborhood, and even if it _was_ fucking vital that they head off the warehouse robbery. They just hadn't had the numbers to deal with Mask's gang, hadn't had the firepower.

Besides, with Kala, Jay had had to scale back his response; dropping a couple thugs dead in their places wouldn't have gone over very well with her, or with the family. If he'd been solo, he might've let the bullets and bodies fall where they may, let God sort out the rest—if he'd ever believed in so much crap, which he didn't.

No, with Kala … he didn't know. Maybe it was her good influence? Whatever. In the end, they'd gone in unprepared, and come out injured, the both of them.

Couldn't say he hadn't warned her that shit would get ugly around here. He'd said that from the first, tried to tell her what kind of town she'd walked into, and she'd just kept insisting she could handle it. Until she was standing there doe-eyed and bleeding and looking like the poster child for Innocence Lost. The injury itself might be minor, but the pole-axed look on her face showed that she'd never really been hurt in the line of duty before, never quite realized she wasn't bulletproof.

Still … seeing _his_ blood seemed to wake her up a bit, so maybe there was hope. If he could activate that whole heroic take-care-of-your-partner-first gene, maybe she'd be good to go. But first he had to take care of _her_ injury.

"I said, take off your duster," he repeated himself after she blinked blankly at him with those huge anime-girl Kryptonian eyes. Depositing all the supplies they'd need on the little tray next to Kala, he helped her out of the damn coat, its slightly-armored leather heavy in his arms— _Geez, no wonder she had trouble with the fucking duffel_ —and sticky with blood where she'd been sliced open across the forearm.

With the duster dumped unceremoniously on the floor and out of the way, his own jacket added to the heap since he'd need to get to his own wound shortly, too, Jay pulled up another stool and got to work, turning Kala's arm over in his hands to give it a quick once-over. As much as he bitched about this little costume she'd worked up for herself, it'd turned out to be a good thing in this situation, after all. Made it easier to see what the damage was without the extra drama of sleeves. _Go fucking figure._ Not that he'd ever tell her it was useful.

The cut wasn't too deep, but from long years of experience, he knew it had to hurt like a bitch, and would take fucking forever to heal up right if he didn't give it the attention it deserved.

Kala followed his gaze as he turned her arm over again, set it down on the tray gently, and went straight for the alcohol. Oh man, she was gonna hate this.

"It's gonna sting like hell," he warned her, but it was clear she hadn't even registered his comment before he was pouring the alcohol over the wound to simultaneously clean and disinfect it.

That woke her up in one hell of a hurry, breaking through whatever façade she'd been putting up to hide how much she'd been hurting when she snarled in pain. It also effectively put an end to whatever politeness she'd been holding onto even now. " _Jesus fucking Christ_ , Red!" she yelped, nearly leaping off of the stool, her arm not quite tugging out of Jay's grip. The infuriated look on her face was priceless … and a bit of a relief. "Little more warning next time, huh? _Fuck!"_

Jay couldn't help a snort of a laugh. "That _was_ a warning. You want to run with the big dogs, you learn to tolerate a little pain." It was a hard lesson, but better learned now than later.

Kala's scowl was almost murderous as he wiped down the wound with a thick gauze pad. " _Shit_ , that stings. Oh, go to hell, Jay. I'll manage," she groused, failing to stop the pout that tugged on the corners of her mouth, her brow furrowing lightly. He could tell the stinging still made her want to hit him, but there was no way she was going to let on how much.

"Right," he scoffed in return, turning his attention on the supplies he'd need to close her wound. "Better hope you're ready for a little more."

Eyes widening when he ripped open a fresh suture pack, the curved needle already attached to a length of dark stitching thread—impossible to say what color it was in this crappy light, but Jay was pretty sure it was blue … or maybe black—Kala sucked in a deep breath and gave an incredulous little laugh. "You're seriously gonna stitch me up yourself?"

Jay nodded with a little grin. "You expected, what, superglue? That's not how this works. Just. Don't hold your breath. Try to keep still and breathe evenly. It's gonna hurt, especially since you're not used to it. Just keep telling yourself you've felt worse. Least it's not too long of a gash. Gonna be ten, twelve stitches, tops."

As he talked and before Kala could react, he started working. Pushed the curved needle through the skin, caught the other side and pushed through again before she even made a sound. Pulled the thread, tied it, cut it. One stitch done. He felt her tense beneath his hands, saw her fingers curl up into a tight fist. She looked a little green around the gills, too, her teeth gritted tight.

"Relax, K. Gonna make the bleeding worse." As it was, he was fighting the clock, trying to get the stitches done before the wound welled up with too much more blood. Wouldn't do any good if he had to keep stopping to clean up the mess.

Letting out a heavy, shaky breath, Kala did as ordered, letting her hand go slack. But she winced as he pushed the needle through her skin again, looking away and squeezing her eyes and her jaw shut.

Jay huffed in mock-annoyance. He could feel her shivering; it had to hurt like hell for her. He was so used to pain by now, he had no realistic measure for normal people, much less mostly-invulnerable Supers. Made you wonder if she'd ever actually been cut like that before. Doubtful when you considered her reaction here. If he kept badgering her, maybe she'd stay irritated instead of freaking out. "Need to keep your eyes on this, too. Who do you think is gonna stitch me up when I'm done here?"

At that, Kala's eyes snapped open. Apparently this wasn't something she'd seen coming at all, despite the clear obviousness of the situation. "Do _what?_ Jay, come on! Have you lost it? I don't know the first thing about stitches! I have zero business doing this!"

Cutting off the ends of another stitch, Jay caught her wide-eyed gaze, the shock and, yes, a touch of fear, all naked there for him to see. "I could do it myself," he explained, starting a fourth stitch, "But it's a hell of a lot easier if someone else does it. And you need to learn."

He could practically see the wheels turning in her head, she went so rigid then. Obviously, she wasn't ready for this level of training, and especially not after a night like tonight, but there really wouldn't be a better time to learn field dressing and basic emergency medical shit.

"Calm the fuck down," he grumbled, turning his focus back on the stitches, making sure they were even as he swiped another gauze pad across the area to clean up the fresh beads of blood. "It ain't rocket science. Just sewing, for fuck's sake. All you gotta do is catch the skin, like this," he said, demonstrating with another stitch, drawing the needle down and through in a curved arc that followed the shape of the needle, "and pick up the other side the same way." Another arc, and he pulled the thread through. "Pull it taut, but not so tight that it'll pucker the skin. Tie it off with a square knot, and cut off the ends. Easy."

With the stitch completed, Jay caught her eyes again, this time her expression looking younger than she'd seemed the whole time he'd known her. "Got it?"

Kala opened her mouth, paused for a long moment as if she wasn't sure what to say, and finally slumped a little, her shoulders dropping. "Holy shit, how the hell do I get myself into this kind of stuff?" she sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. Trying to steady herself, he knew. When she opened them again, she continued, "My mom wasn't exactly the domestic type, you know? You'll be lucky if I don't poke your eye out by mistake instead of stitching your side. And how do you even know all this, anyway?"

A dark laugh escaped Jay at her odd way of dealing with the situation, and he shook his head, starting in on the next stitch. _Three more ought to do it,_ he noted silently. "You don't get through life in Gotham without learning how to fix yourself," he explained. "And Alfred's a pretty good teacher. Pity he couldn't have given you lessons before now; I'm sure I'm gonna need more than a single layer of stitches."

When silence followed, only Kala's deep, even breathing as Jay worked, he didn't press her. It was bad enough that this whole thing had probably traumatized her, but he didn't want to make it any worse with a more detailed description on the sort of care his gut wound would probably need.

"There," he announced when the final stitch was tied and cut, eleven in total, as predicted. A quick application of high-end antibiotic gel, and a taped-on gauze bandage covered with a light wrap to keep everything in place, and Jay set the rest of the supplies aside for a moment, taking Kala's hand in his. "You all right?" he asked, knowing she probably wasn't.

Kala only stared at their hands, curled her fingers over his. For a moment, she didn't speak, then answered, "Um. Yeah. Just a little shaken up, I guess. Wasn't the way I expected the night to go down, you know?"

"Getting the shit kicked out of ya and a knife to the arm will do that, you know?" he ventured. He could afford to be a little kind right now, and not just because he was about to hand her the sewing kit. "You should sleep in tomorrow, tell the family to kiss your sweet Kryptonian ass. And—" he hadn't wanted to suggest it, but with the way her face seemed so sallow, dark circles under her eyes and lips a little pale, he knew there was no other choice now "—and get some time in the sun, recharge your batteries. Think you've pretty well proven that you can do this without your full capabilities."

With that, Kala lifted her head, catching his gaze with those dazed eyes. Tired as she was, her pale lips curved into a smile, though he could see the mark where she'd been biting them to hold back the pain. Luckily he'd struck the right nerve to distract her. "Sweet Kryptonian ass?" she mocked him, an eyebrow lifting in challenge. "Really? Wow. There something you want to tell me, Red?"

Jay let out a full laugh at her sudden change of attitude, the motion tearing at the wound in his belly and stealing some of his breath. "Nothing in particular. You feel better now?"

"Gonna need a shitload of pain killers, because this hurts like a _sonofabitch,_ but yeah. I think I might just live," she said, cautiously lifting her arm and flexing her fingers, hand, and wrist.

"Good," Jay said. "Because now it's my turn."

…

Any relief Kala had felt at his silly comment about her behind promptly took a swan-dive directly into her stomach.

It took every inch of self-control not to try to talk Jay out of this whole thing when he passed her a fresh suture pack. There was no way she was in any condition to sew him up. Not like this, not when the world seemed like it was on a slow-moving carousal. Even if she'd been fully alert, she would've thought him mad to even suggest it. She hadn't been joking; Mom had taught both the twins the basics of dressing a wound when they were younger, but sewing your own stitches in the field had never been part of the curriculum.

And what good could she possibly be, what with the way Jay was bleeding?

But that was exactly the point, she realized with a start. Looking up at him then, she knew her anxiety was blatantly obvious. There wasn't much option for them to do anything else, especially since he'd just wasted all that time taking care of _her._ Her biggest fear was hurting him … well, hurting him worse.

Taking a deep breath, she braced herself. _Dammit, why me?_ "What if I screw up?"

"Then you'll have to do it over," he told her blandly. "And I really don't want to be stitched more than necessary, so I'd rather you get it right the first time. I've been through worse, but this doesn't exactly feel _good,_ you know?"

Oh, she knew. The feel of the thread sliding through her skin had made her want to throw up with every stitch; watching the needle dart in and out just made it worse. Only the fact that Jay would never let her live it down had kept down her gorge.

On one hand, he was right. It had to be done. Honestly he should have been sewn up first. He had to be losing more blood than she had been. But how could he even begin to trust her with this, with as minimal talent in this arena as she had? Answer was, obviously, that he would have to. It was a no-win situation. God help her, Jay was right. It was going to _have_ to be her. "Jesus, I have no idea how I'm going to do this, but fine. Let's get it done with," she finally relented. Pulling the fresh needle from the pack, Kala forced her hands to stop shaking. But there was nothing she could do about her protesting stomach.

"Remember, you've got to pull the stitches tight enough to make the edges meet, but not so tight it puckers up," he told her, finding a space to lean back and stripping off his shirt to bare the wound. Jay picked up the alcohol and, clenching his jaw, poured it over the slash.

Kala winced at the sight; leave it to Jay to make a point of showing how much of a tough guy he was by sanitizing his own wound. Like she was incapable of doing it for him. Reaching for the gauze, she resigned herself to her fate and settled in at his side. "Yeah, yeah, and square-knot it. I remember. Now can the grandstanding, Red, and let me concentrate. I don't want to nick anything. I can't believe I'm doing this." Trying not to flinch, Kala looked over the wound. The wave of regret she felt as she studied it made her bite her lip. _He wouldn't have this if it wasn't for me. I might as well have done it myself. He was right in the beginning; I'm a danger to everyone around me._ Those thoughts grounded her, the need to try and fix this, and she began to wipe away the blood, careful not to apply too much pressure.

"You should see two layers," Jay said, as calmly as if he wasn't talking about his own gut wound. "Well, three, 'cuz the cut's so deep, but since neither of us has the skill to stitch the sub-dermis separately—Alfred's specialty, you know? 'S how Bruce has stayed so pretty—just worry about the skin and the layer underneath, the muscle. You'll have to stitch that one first, then the skin. Can't do them together or I'll tear it loose every time I move."

If she had been a little greenish before, she was more of a seaweed tone now. Her stomach lurched at the description, despite her best intentions. _I will not throw up onto an open wound. I will not throw up onto an open wound. I am my mother's daughter, I will_ _ **not**_ _throw up onto an open wound that belongs to someone who would tell_ _ **everyone**_ _in the caped community that I barfed over a couple stitches. All I need is for that to make the rounds. It'd please Her Majesty to hear, I'm sure._

It worked for the moment, and she forced herself to focus. Donna Troy had no idea just how much her little lecture had motivated Kala. She was going to learn this stuff if it killed her. Also, there was no one else; like it or not, for once, _Jay_ needed _her_. Being squeamish just wasn't an option. Kala forced herself to center on the job at hand and just went with it. A deep breath, a moment to distance herself, and Kala used what remained of her x-ray vision to examine the extent of the wound. "Okay. Yeah, I see it. Looks like you'll need about … seven, maybe eight stitches, with the same spacing you used on me."

"That's what I thought, too. Get on it, I'm bleeding here." Jay still sounded unconcerned, and that was starting to irritate her enough that it burned through the last of her dazed fog.

She narrowed her eyes at him then, guilt burning away for a moment as she longed for a gag. "Save the snark. I already told you I wasn't qualified for this. Besides, I could always leave you to do it yourself. According to you, you've done it before. Have at it." Both of them knew she wouldn't—couldn't—do that, but it made her feel better to say it as she poked the curved needle through his muscle.

It turned out that pulling the thread was just as gross as feeling it in your skin—it caught a little bit, here and there. After a moment, though, Kala was so busy focusing on getting the stitches just right that her nausea was forced to the side. Though that still left her with enough guilt to anchor a cruise ship. "Look, I'm sorry I fucked up out there. We wouldn't have been in this mess in the first place if it wasn't for me. Maybe you were right."

"You did all right. We both lived," Jay said gruffly.

Kala shook her head as she placed another stitch in the muscle. "I should've been faster—I should've been _better."_

"Wow, you Supers _are_ self-flagellating masochists," Jay remarked.

As the flirting of earlier faded away, the stronger sting of failure setting in, she couldn't help the way her temper started to flare. This was an old insult from Jay, his opinions on her family's sometimes too-bright outlook a continuing annoyance, not that it made it any easier to take. "You are completely unbelievable, you know that?" Kala replied automatically, glaring at him. "Do I need to remind you that I have a needle in your gut right now? _Shit_. You know, only a Bat would shoot his mouth off at a time like this."

"And only a Super would obsess about shit that nobody can predict. We shouldn't have been on this one alone, but we didn't have much of a choice. Yeah, we both got hurt, but it was just two injuries, neither one major. That's a win, in Gotham."

"Yeah? Well, you know what? Gotham's standard of judgment sucks," she spat out, refusing to look up from her work.

"Not quite as bad as Metropolis's _uniform_ standards suck. What the hell is up with that costume of yours, anyway?"

 _You bastard._ _ **Again.**_ _And of all the times…_ The bright spark of fury that flamed at those words had her gritting her teeth. "Oh for fuck's sake! Would you put on another goddamn record, already?" Kala snapped, training eyes that glowed with aggravation on his own. "Goddammit, Jay, you are so fucking obsessed with my uniform, it's unreal. I'm so fucking sick of hearing it!" The urge to just hit him for being an ass was irresistible, so tempting that she felt the fingers of her right hand itch to curl into a fist. Just once. Just once and she'd make sure he'd never bring it up again…

The level of anger that brought on woke her to the image forming in her mind. He was hurt, had to be in quite a bit of pain already. And she wanted to make it worse because he was provoking her. That wasn't an option. That wasn't who she was. She wouldn't be that person, especially when the taunting was something so petty. The dark didn't get to win.

Quelling her temper, as on edge as she was, was almost impossible, but she made herself swallow the need to throttle him. Letting herself feed into that, losing control that much when she was already scared of doing irreparable damage, worked at cross-purposes. He needed her help, she reminded herself, making herself acknowledge the enormity of the situation. The amount of their blood on the floor. It was enough to get her back in check. Done with the muscle, tying off the thread, she smeared it with antibiotic before starting in on the skin. Kala's tone was still sharp, hot, but it lacked the outright _rage_ of before. "You run around in a leather jacket, jeans, and a motorcycle helmet with eye-slits cut in, where the hell do you get off?"

Jay stifled a wince. "My uniform's practical. Easy in and easy out, nothing loose to get caught anywhere, and I've got full range of motion. Yours looks like one of those 'adult' superhero Halloween costumes. So what gives, K?"

His description cut deeper than any of his earlier sarcasm. That she had _not_ been expecting. And it showed, she knew it did. That white-hot look speared him for a long second, a hectic flush of anger and embarrassment reddened her cheeks. Honestly, considering some of the other uniforms out there, Kala had always thought hers was pretty conservative. In an incredibly weak moment, she was privately horrified to realize that that might be half of the issues she'd been dealing with. _Oh God, is that really what people think? Dammit, that's probably where all that Goth Barbie shit started. What must_ _ **Dad**_ _think? And why the hell didn't Jase say something if it was that bad?_ The thought made Kala sick to her stomach. Especially when concerning her legacy. Another mistake. "You know I could sew your fucking mouth shut while I'm at it, right?" she snapped, covering for the way she knew she had to be blanching.

"You won't. I still need the skin stitched, by the way." Jay's casual confidence only made her hate him more.

Kala started to open her mouth and give him a traditional Lane bawling-out when she noticed the smug look on his face, and followed the turn of his gaze back down to his wound. She was already more than halfway through her task, most of it having been accomplished while they'd been bickering. All of a sudden she realized what he was trying to do. Jay had no idea of the monsters in her head. No idea how deeply that had cut. It wasn't his fault and maybe, just maybe, it was something to stop and consider. No point in getting angry about something that maybe just had a grain of truth to it. Being terrified had only made her more sensitive to it. That was another thing she needed to work on. And that was what this training was all about. Getting herself right again.

As furious with his pot-shots as she was, she could feel a grudging smile tugging at her lips. His little trick had worked in the end. And she had refused to give in to her anger. She doubted he even knew how he'd shaken her. It was enough.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out, Kala pushed her demons back into their prisons in her head. "You, Jason Todd, are a bastard and I hate you, just so you know," she remarked, getting back to work. "I know why you're being a dick—making me so pissed I could take your head off—it's so I won't feel bad about hurting you while I'm stitching you back together. Well, too bad, that didn't work. I'm better than that. It's a rule: Supers care about everyone, even the ones that are a whole new level of odious asshole."

That made him laugh, which forced her to stop for a minute. "Quit moving, Red. I'm almost done."

…

Stilling then, Jay took a slow breath. He had to keep talking; being silent would just make him focus on the fact that he was letting an amateur—a steady-handed sensible amateur, true, but still an _amateur_ sew him up like she was qualifying for a Girl Scout badge. "Seriously, though. Why that costume?"

Sighing in annoyance, Kala bent over him to make sure she was getting the skin stitches exactly right. "Leave it to you not to let it go even now. Fine. The first time anyone got a decent photo, I happened to have been in mid-costume change at a concert when I got the call. I still had the corset on from the first set, grabbed the pants from the third, and threw my coat over the whole thing. And once it was photographed I was stuck with it. There, you happy?"

Jay only narrowed his eyes at her, which Kala didn't see as she finished another stitch. "What the hell makes you think you have to stick with the same costume?"

A snort, and Kala shook her head. "How about the need for some continuity? In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not exactly able to wear the red, blue, and yellow. Yet. Breaking your nose should've made that abundantly clear. I'm not full-time for a reason. I need to get more in check before it's even a distant possibility." Her eyes flicked up to meet his briefly, and she continued on with her work. "And with Jase out as Superboy now, I won't be wearing the family crest for a while. No need for the world to guess that he's got a twin, especially not when Lois Lane has them. So it's a good idea to forge an identity that doesn't automatically scream 'Kryptonian Princess' to the public. And what I've got right now makes you think just the opposite, which is what I'm going for."

This time, Jay raised an eyebrow. "So? You're out wearing all black. It doesn't have to be the same design. You have any idea how many times Bruce has redesigned the Bat-suit?"

And that, Kala obviously hadn't considered. Cutting off the ends of another stitch, she went silent and thoughtful, probably remembering all the times she'd seen Batman before she'd started training with him and trying to spot the differences.

Jay knew that there had been subtle changes to the suit often enough that she might catch them in retrospect. But the theme was still the same, so the Bat been instantly recognizable regardless.

"A lot?" she finally ventured, catching Jay's gaze for a moment again.

Jay huffed out a laugh, wincing at the motion. "Bruce has had, to the best of my knowledge, twenty-seven separate suits. Some of them radically changed in some fundamental ways, but all still essentially the Bat. Ask Alfred; he'll give you the lowdown on how many different suits he's had to clean by hand, and he'll tell you about all the blood stains and the repairs he's had to make. Then ask him about all the Robin suits and Dickie's Nightwing suits, and watch his blood pressure shoot up. You want to stay ahead of the game, you've gotta reinvent yourself pretty damn often. And let's be honest; the only reason your dad hasn't changed uniforms is because he has absolutely no reason to do so. But you aren't him, are you?"

Tying off the ends of what looked to be the final stitch, Kala pursed her lips in an attempt to hide the way her face fell. That simple question took her like a swift kick to the gut. For a moment Jay felt like an ass for bringing up such a sore point—but it needed to be said.

"No. No, Jay, I'm not him. Like I said earlier, my temper kinda makes that clear," she answered quietly, finishing the stitch with a quick snip of the scissors and setting the suture supplies aside in exchange for the antibiotic ointment. "And I never can be him, no matter how hard I try, no thanks to Dr—" But she cut herself off without finishing the name. The expression on her face, however, said enough. Haunted, always so haunted by her past.

"No thanks to who?" Jay asked as she finished dressing his wound, the line of the cut much neater than either of them had expected it to come out.

Kala only shook her head, eyes on her work. Her still-hushed voice was studiedly nonchalant. "Nobody. Forget it. Suffice it to say that black is pretty fitting. And I have the added bonus of always being in style." A small self-deprecating smile flitted across her lips.

"Uh-huh," he said skeptically. "Okay, so, you're not exactly squeaky clean. Point is, you don't get the benefits of the indestructible image, or even the full-on indestructibility, so you're gonna have to tweak your uniform on a pretty regular basis, keep the bad guys guessing. I can help you with that, if you want. Got plenty of resources, as you well know."

Sitting straight and dropping the excess bandage on the little tray, Kala met Jay's gaze again, and for once he just looked back at her earnestly. He saw her throat work in what looked like surprise. Hardly the most bizarre moment of the night, but worth noting, certainly, even if neither of them wanted to admit to the weirdness of Jason Todd playing superhero fashion consultant.

…

That was definitely not an offer Kala had seen coming. After all of the events of this evening, the jumbled roller-coaster of emotions she'd been through in the last few hours, Jay offering to upgrade her of his own volition was a mind-trip. Another instant in her life where she felt like nothing so much as Alice, lost in a dark Wonderland. Life here in Gotham was a contrast in darkness and light so constantly. Training with Jay was, too. Just when Kala thought she understood, something new happened. He was capable of being such a hard-ass to her, but then would let down his guard a little. Show he was human. It threw her off-balance; it was so much easier to know his movements, his intentions, in a fight than it was to gauge his mind.

Worse, Kala found herself responding to the glimpses underneath the mask. She respected him as a trainer, but she could almost like the side of him that would talk to her as if they were on the same level. She'd never expected to trust him the night she met him, let alone care for his well-being. What she had just done to Jay's side floored her. It implied that he had either been hurt much worse than he let on or that maybe he trusted her that much. She was unprepared for the swell of complicated emotions that rose then, watching him with a frown.

That prompted a nervous head-shake from her at that thought that snuck up on her then, startling her to the core. _No, that's not productive. You're loopy from the loss of blood and lack of pain-killers. You're smarter than that._ God, she was so damn tired. Her brain was going offline, that was what it was. She could feel it everywhere, but it was apparent that clear thought was going to be the first casualty tonight.

Kala finally answered him with another snort, attempting to make light of the offer of help. "Honestly? You might just have a point. Whatever makes you happy, Jay. Maybe you'll even stop bitching about the damn thing for five minutes." And with that, she stood swiftly to break this strange moment, turning away from him to grab her duster from its heap on the floor where Jay had tossed it. "This is ruined, anyway," she said tiredly, inspecting the slice through the left sleeve. The heaviness in her chest as she looked at it surprised her, the sudden feeling of loss deeper than expected. It felt like a layer of herself was being stripped away. More proof that maybe Jay was right.

Running her thumb over the rent leather, she heaved a sigh. There was definitely no point in trying to fix it. Only tossing it back to the floor with enough force to get a dull thud out of its landing gave her any relief from the frustration that'd been building in her the whole night. The damn maudlin mood that had been dogging her when she had shown up here was back in full-force and it was taking more effort to push it away in her exhaustion. She was disgusted with herself when she realized that she was forcing back tears. Just too much for one damn night. Why was she so _weak_ right now?

"Kala." That was Jay's voice, right behind her, and her guard was so low she hadn't even noticed.

She barely resisted a startle as she realized Jay had come up behind her, his hand curling lightly around her good arm. Whirling to face him, she pulled away from what little grip he had on her and put up her palm to force some distance. "Jay, are we done for the night? I … I don't think I'm going to be much more good. I gotta go get some rest," she said lamely as her hand landed on his bare chest.

"You can crash upstairs, if you need to," he offered, laying his hand over hers gently. This was the softest Jay had been with her yet, the kindest and most patient. Almost as if … no, that was impossible. "Take my bed, and I'll sleep on the floor."

Caught beneath the warmth of his hand, his chest rising and falling slowly against her palm, Kala tried to ignore the way his gaze bored into her. In her current state of mind, this was stirring up certain things she didn't want to think too hard about. Shit, not tonight. "I'm sensing a pattern here," she said in an attempt to deflect the sudden tension between them, one eyebrow raised as it all came into sharper focus than she was prepared for. She could handle it any other time, but the world was getting so that it didn't make sense anymore right now. This was not one of those things she could handle puzzling out right now. _This is_ _ **not**_ __ _happening,_ she decided firmly. _Period. I didn't come to Gotham for a hook-up with someone, no matter how I feel tonight. Things are mixed up enough with him._ _I am_ _ **not**_ _gonna be a notch in his little Batty bedpost._

Jay raised an eyebrow to match hers, his mouth pulling up into a half-smirk. "You've been hanging around Bruce too much. Not everything's a conspiracy, you know. And I'm not exactly in any condition to take advantage, here. Just offering crash space."

Kala grimaced, despite herself. Of course she was reading too much into Jay's intensity. She must've been more exhausted than she realized, if she was this far off her game. "Shit. Right, sorry. I really am starting to shut down mentally right now." She managed to muster up a small smile. "Besides, I've heard tales of your apartment. I wouldn't trust it to be safe for you to sleep on that floor. Thanks, but no thanks, Red. I just want to get back to the Manor, okay?"

Jay's lips twitched, and he nodded, stepping back from her and looking for the world like he didn't want to, even as he went, leaving her hand cold in the absence of his warmth. "All right. Get changed and grab your bag," he said as he rummaged through a pile of shirts in a cubby for a clean tee, finding a black one and tugging it on over his head before plucking out one of his white long-sleeved shirts and tossing it at Kala. "Here, you're gonna need sleeves if you want to get past the 'night watch' without tipping them off to your injury."

Kala gaped as she caught the shirt, her expression disbelieving. Was he serious? "And how exactly is this supposed to _not_ feed the rumor mill? Your signature shirt isn't exactly subtle."

Grabbing a set of keys from a hook on the wall by the stairs, Jay glanced back at her with another smirk. "What, _you,_ afraid of the rumor mill? The girl who tells _Bruce_ to wait 'til after her press conference? Yeah, right. Now hurry up so I can drive you back to Bristol."

"Wh—huh?" she started as she slipped the shirt on over her head—way too big, but at least it covered her bandaged wound—and fumbled with the clasps of her corset underneath to take it off. "No, no way. Get over it. Not happening. You're in no shape to ride a bike all that way. I got here in a cab, I can head back in a cab. No harm, no foul."

He scoffed, looking at her with an odd little grin. "Not putting you in a cab after tonight's crap-fest."

It was her turn to scoff now, unable to help her scolding tone. "And you are in no condition to be doing anything but staying yourself here. This is a scratch compared to what happened to you. _Seriously_. Jay, you have a gut wound and ought to be stuffed in a bed somewhere, not taking me home. The bike's dangerous, and the camo car will get us pulled over in Bristol. I'll be fine."

At that he actually laughed, stifling the sound to spare his wound. "Didn't you notice the other two cars out in the parking deck?" Jay's eyes twinkled with honest amusement.

Blinking as she stuffed her corset into what was left of her duffel and followed Jay up the stairs, Kala realized that she really _hadn't_ noticed the cars, not pointedly, anyway. "Um, guess not," she admitted, the wheels starting to turn in strange configurations in her head. She gave him a calculating look. None of this added up. "Three cars, all of that downstairs… Seriously, where the hell do you get the money for all this? Pretty clear Uncle Bruce hasn't been contributing."

Jay snorted, shaking his head as he opened the garage door to lead her out to the trio of cars: a black and red Dodge Charger, a gold Audi, and the beat-up gray Lincoln. "You don't want to know, K. You really do _not_ want to fucking know."

The mental math had her watching him all the more curiously. Right. From what she was coming up with, of course she didn't. Leave it to her to start to fall—fall _in with_ a guy that had not only once been considered a psycho killer, but was probably still up to his eyeballs in illegal shit. Oh, Daddy would be _thrilled_. It had become the story of her life.

…

"O? Red. I need clearance at the Roost." Jay focused on the job at hand. It helped him ignore the pain. He had plenty of experience in that department, honestly.

It also helped him not to think about the fact that he'd just invited Kala to stay at his place. His apartment was home ground, where he never let _anyone_ in, where the windows were barred and the front door had a lethal trap rigged to it. But … he couldn't let her sleep at the bunker, could he? Tough and savvy fighter that she was shaping up to be, Kala was still a girl, and he couldn't picture her huddled in med bay or worse, sleeping on the cold concrete floor.

Still, there were other options he could've given, like driving her home as he currently was. Literally _letting her in_ , that was a big thing, and that he'd offered it unthinkingly was even bigger. Now, though, he really didn't wanna think about it. At all. She'd seemed so small, and all he'd been able to think of was protecting her, keeping her safe. Bringing her in. God, he was losing it.

Oracle's voice finally hummed in the erstwhile silence of the car, "B and R are in Gotham proper. Wing's on post in the Cave. You have clearance for the Roost only."

"It'll have to do. Thanks, O. Red out," Jay said, ignoring the note of question in her response and tapping the comm controls on the Charger's steering wheel to cut the connection. A glance over at the passenger seat found Kala staring blankly out the window. "Better if nobody was in at all, but I can get you in upstairs," he explained as they hit the entrance ramp for the Turnpike, only getting a slight nod, a tired hum in response.

Shit, she was even more out of it now that they were finally on the road. _Probably should've gone ahead and given her something for the pain,_ he realized, pointedly ignoring the sting of regret that settled into his chest. If only he hadn't fucked tonight up so royally and got her hurt, she wouldn't be—

But he put the brakes on that train of thought quick. There was no point in rehashing everything that had gone down. Injuries happened. Stitches happened. _Pain_ happened. It was part of life in this damn city, especially if you wanted to be a goddamn cape. It fucking sucked, but that's how it was, and Kala had to learn it sooner or later.

So why in the hell did he feel so bad that her introduction to the dark side had finally come to pass?

Jesus fucking Christ, he was screwed. He seriously did not need this shit, had no fucking time for it.

Really.

Blowing out a breath and shaking his head to clear out the sudden flash of insanity—must have been an artifact from the Pit, yeah, that was it, just a fucking relapse—Jay maneuvered the car across the three lanes of the Turnpike to hit the left-side exit for Bristol, nearly cutting off a tractor trailer. Dammit, he hated having to snake over the highway like this, but there was no way he was about to take the back-road stealth route to hit the Cave. If he wanted to get Kala in the Manor unnoticed, he'd have to drop her at the side door inside the garage.

With any luck, Alfred would already be tucked in for the night, and Kala would have a clear path to get in unhindered. Piece of cake.

The rest of the drive passed in silence, Jay doing a better job of ignoring the searing pain in his side than his mental self-judgment. Pulling the car up the long driveway and around to the Manor's above-ground garage at last, he parked inside and shut off the engine. "All right, K, we're back," he announced as he took the keys from the ignition.

But when there was no response, Jay turned to find Kala slumped back in the reclined seat and curled partly into a little ball, her legs drawn up, bad arm settled on her knees and good arm draped over it protectively. Out like a light and dead to the world, looking entirely too young and fucking innocent to be out doing this hero shit and getting her ass handed to her.

How the hell could one person have so many different surprises locked up inside her? When Jay first heard about her, he'd assumed she was trying to buck the family legacy a little, and he'd defended her to Donna because he knew all about the weight of expectations. Then when he saw her, he'd thought Kala was just your basic hero-wannabe, in love with the 'romance' of it all and wanting some of the spotlight. The kind of fool who got themselves killed—or ran out and got someone else killed—in their first real fight. The corset had contributed a little too much to his impression, even he had to admit—which was why he couldn't stop harping on it.

Kala had gotten in his face, and he'd started to think maybe she was just woefully unprepared for all this, which made him want to protect her just as much as he wanted to convince her to hang up her mask and go back to her day job. When she'd broken his nose, he had to admit maybe she had a few advantages that made her less unprepared. No way would he tell her that, though, and relying on powers was a cop-out. What Donna had said months back was true, Kala hadn't really known how to run with the rest of the cape-and-cowl crowd, and the training she needed would teach her that and more.

And then in training her, Jay started to see the steel underneath her attitude, and began to respect her. He caught glimpses of a fierce, wicked fighter, something far more predatory than her brother—whose files he'd read, though he hadn't met the other Jason personally. Bruce adored that other boy, who was so careful with his powers and so concerned with not hurting people. Kala, on the other hand, Jay could almost suspect that all _she_ needed was a good excuse and she'd happily start cleaning up _his_ way. But she kept hiding that dark streak.

As if all that wasn't enough, just about the time he'd decided she was a bonafide badass and one hell of a partner—she hadn't run, not even when he ordered her to, not even when her powers were winking out like little candles in a stuffy room, Kala had stayed and had his back and taken a knife in the process—then this happened. The steely-eyed warrior was gone, and this was just a slender, pretty girl pushed way beyond her limits, exhausted and bloody in the passenger side of his car.

 _Fuck._ What the hell was he gonna do now?

"Kala?" he tried, shaking her shoulder gently. "Come on, we're at the Manor."

But again, no response. She had finally passed out on the ride, not that he could honestly blame her. _Great idea, Jay, deprive her of her powers so much that she can't even stay awake. Way to go, asshole._

Unbuckling his seat-belt, Jay got out of the car and stepped around to extricate Kala from the passenger seat. This was gonna hurt like a bitch, and he knew it damn well, popping her seat-belt and picking her up gingerly anyway, her slight frame settling against him easily.

His stitches pulled, one of them managing to pop— _God fucking dammit!_ —but he shifted enough to ease the rest of the tension and heft Kala up into his arms properly, kicking the car door shut behind them. Quickly, he made his way into the Manor, past the coded security panel at the door, treading as lightly as possible to avoid alerting Alfred as he hit the main hallway, headed toward the stairwell. If only his boots weren't so fucking loud in the—

"Master Bruce?"

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck._ What the hell else could _possibly_ go wrong tonight?

"No, Alfred, it's Jason," he whispered through gritted teeth as the old man came around the corner from the kitchen, looking surprised to see anyone around at this hour, with patrol hours not even up yet.

Both of Alfred's eyebrows shot up when he saw Kala nestled in Jay's arms. "Is she hurt?" he asked as he hurried over to them, clad in his pajamas but ready for anything, as usual.

Jay shifted in place and shook his head. Damn if he'd gotten her this far only to have Alfred discover what had happened. "No, no, she's all right. Just exhausted. The whole 'no sunlight' thing didn't quite work out as planned, that's all. Didn't expect her to fall asleep in the car, though." It wasn't a lie. Only a slight omission.

Giving Jay a slightly skeptical look, Alfred tipped his chin up and crossed his arms. "You're sure? Master Bruce would be quite put out if she'd been hurt on your watch. I dare say her father wouldn't be so pleased, either."

Another shake of his head, and Jay started for the stairs. "She's fine. Just, make sure she gets a good sun-soak in the morning? She just pushed it too hard this week, is all."

"If you're quite sure, then," Alfred relented. "Will you be staying the evening?"

"Nah," Jay said. "Heading back into Gotham as soon as I get her upstairs."

"Very well. Your old room is available if you change your mind. And I'll be in the kitchen with the medkit if you decide you want to change that bandage and fix your stitches before you go."

A glance down and to the side, and Jay saw at last that he hadn't even changed out of his blood-soaked pants, the fact that he hadn't done so completely having missed him. A chill ran down his spine with the realization as he noticed he was even bleeding through his bandages and t-shirt, a growing spot of dark wetness clearly visible even on the black.

If he'd seen that, Alfred had surely noticed that Kala was wearing one of Jay's long-sleeved shirts in the middle of a muggy midsummer night. No wonder he'd asked about her injuries. Just proved the adage Dickie-bird had once told him: 'You can fool all of the people some of the time, and some of the people all of the time, but you can't fool Alfred at all.'

 _Fuck!_ "All right, yeah, she's hurt but it's minor," Jay sighed. "She'll be fine. Most of this really _is_ exhaustion. Lemme put her down, I'll take you up on the medkit. Okay?"

"Of course," Alfred said smoothly, patting his arm.

…

Once finally upstairs, Jay wasted no time getting Kala to her room and tucking her into bed after tugging off her heavy boots. He'd have taken off her pants, too, if he didn't think she'd try to murder him for it later. Instead, he pulled the covers up over her and unwound the tie from her hair to let it down from the tight knot she seemed to favor.

As much as he wanted to bitch at her sometimes that she should just cut her hair and be done with it—better to give the bad guys nothing to work with—he couldn't deny that it looked good on her, fanning around her head on the pillow in soft waves as he ran his fingers through its length to undo the knot. The movement released a wave of perfume, the usual candy-flower scent he'd been smelling on and off around her for weeks, unique to her. She sighed softly in her sleep before he moved away, barely stirring, nuzzling her pillow before stilling again.

 _Shit._ What the hell was she doing to him?

Barely managing to keep himself from kissing her or doing something equally creepy, Jay just patted Kala's hair down, whispered, "Sweet dreams," and straightened, shaking himself mentally.

All this protective bullshit was softening him up and turning him into a damn freak. This wasn't a romance novel, for fuck's sake. It was _Gotham_. That kind of crap was a fairy-tale for kids; this city was all about watching your partner's back.

Stepping out into the hallway, he pulled the door shut behind him and scrubbed his face with a hand. Fuck, he needed to get the hell out of here.

But across the hall and three doors down was his old room, the heavy oak door beckoning him to go ahead and crash for the night. It would be so fucking easy to just give in and stay. He'd resisted long enough, hadn't he? Put off enough of Bruce and Alfred's invitations? Dug in his heels against it too long already?

No. No. Not now. Not tonight. It'd look pretty damn suspicious if the rest of the household woke in the morning to find Kala in Jay's shirt and Jay asleep only a short distance down the hall. That was the last thing either of them fucking needed right now. Not to mention their injuries. Alfred could keep a secret—and fuck, they should've just come to him in the first place, since there really was no hiding anything from him, anyway—but Bruce would know too well that something was up.

A glance back at Kala's door, and Jay clenched his jaw, turning to head downstairs, his hand on the old railing to steady himself as the pain in his side finally caught up with him, burning and itching in a slow spread outward from the slice and popped stitch. He could at least take Alfred up on his offer to check his wound before he left, Kala's surprisingly good work notwithstanding. Whether Alfred gave his usual lecture on proper wound care or just restitched him in stony silence, at least Jay knew that he wouldn't say anything to Bruce or his brothers.

That much was a given. The rest … the rest would just have to shake out as it would.


	21. Of GQs

Like it or not, Kala started to wake the moment the sun rose over the horizon. Usually the feeling was a gentle warmth, waking her slowly over the course of an hour as her body started to respond to the presence of sunlight. This morning, though, it was an insistent prodding that wouldn't be ignored, that brought her up from sleep, the urge actually painful. Groaning, she opened her eyes to slits and stared across the room until her vision cleared, still feeling worn thin from a restless night. Her mind was still so frazzled about the previous night's events that it shocked her when the stretch she started ended in searing agony. Her forearm stung, deep, like a really large cut. _What the hell—?_

With a frown, she pushed up the sleeve of the white shirt she was wearing and saw the slightly-bloodied bandage wound snugly around her forearm. Well, that explained the worst of the pain. _Jesus, what happened last night?_ _After the warehouse…_

Somehow she'd managed to mix it up last night pretty well. Couldn't have been a normal training night. Her arm was throbbing at a rate that told her that this wasn't some small little scratch; there were flashes of a fight, of being out-numbered. Memory filtered back in: Jay yelling for her to get out, her yelling right back that she wouldn't. The realization of the fight they'd been in brought her wide-awake then, but the sight that met her confused Kala even worse. Impossibly, she was in her bed in the Manor, and … had no memory of coming back after the previous night's fiasco. Somehow, even wounded, Jay had gotten her out here to Bristol from the Bowery. How? There was no way he'd taken the bike. She knew she wouldn't have let him do that, would've fought with him rather than let him. Shaking her head a little cleared things out a little, with only minor wooziness.

Kala babied her arm a little while she wiggled her way up out of bed. Using her legs to push back her covers, she realized she was still fully dressed, only her boots gone, the pair set neatly beside the bed. Brow furrowed, she glanced closer at the shirt she was wearing and startled when she recognized it. One of Jay's uniform shirts. The memory of her ruined jacket came back to her. The shirt had been to hide the bandage, the corset no disguise for it at all. And then … nothing, really. The sound of Jay's voice at some point. She cocked her head, raking at her memories, only to become aware that her hair was brushing her cheek. Her brow furrowed at that. It had been in a tight bun when they'd come in, she'd thought, but there was really no telling. Most of the night before was still pretty misty, little bits coming back at a time.

God, her arm was killing her. Had to get something to at least dull that. She really ought to take the tape off and look at the damage, but she hadn't quite worked up the guts yet.

The notion triggered something then, her own words coming back to her. _**Seriously.**_ _Jay, you have a gut wound and ought to be stuffed in a bed somewhere, not taking me home. I'll be fine._

Then it hit her. The fight with Black Mask's people had gone wrong, she'd been too worn down to fight properly. There'd been wounds after, both with a long knife, and they hadn't gone to Alfred for them. Which explained whatever was wrong with her arm. There hadn't been many options. The only safe one would've meant going to Alfred; that would have meant admitting that they'd messed up to Bruce. Kala had expected that he would find out, anyway, but they'd done it themselves and kept the secret. Even now, she couldn't believe that Jay had trusted her to doctor him the night before. The whole evening felt unreal, like it had been something that had happened to someone else.

Another twinge from her damn arm. There had to be something she could do about it, at least to tame the agony a little; just gritting her teeth wasn't helping much. Jay would be laughing at her annoyance and pain, she knew. She was being a lightweight, especially considering _his_ little souvenir. Kala spared a thought for Jay and how he had to be coping. It'd been her fault that he'd been sliced, her lack of speed and too-slow reaction. As soon as she felt up to it, she'd head into town and check up on him, find some excuse to get out of here early. But she'd see if maybe, just maybe, her all-natural Kryptonian morning-after-smack-down diet worked for something like this. She did remember Jay saying two things specifically: sleep, and sunlight.

Honestly, with her body practically screaming for photons, nothing sounded better. And at last she had permission. She couldn't help a weak grin as she slipped out of bed despite the pain, sweet relief coursing through her at the mere _thought_ of heading up to sunbathe. It had been over a month since she'd been able to take a full-fledged flight, longer still since she'd had a proper sun-soak, and _thank God,_ that streak was about to end. It was almost a delirious relief to know it. While it was happening, she hadn't realized just how deep the craving had been. Never had she understood her system's needs so completely.

Only taking moments to shed her clothes from the night before, Kala changed into a pair of shorts and her smallest camisole. If she'd brought a bikini, she would've worn that. The thought made her laugh; she was going to soak up as much solar energy as possible, and she wanted as much surface area exposed to receive it as she could manage. Hell, she'd go naked if she thought she could get away with it at this point. If only the Manor wasn't in such a populated area, and there wasn't the danger of snarky Bats catching her…

Anyway, it felt like getting a 'get out of jail free' card just to realize that the weakness she'd been suffering would be banished at last. Everything else faded in light of it, and she was grinning to herself when she left her room to head up to the roof. After this long, she'd probably need to sun-soak for a hour or so just to maintain a hover before heading up. Thankfully, no one else in the household besides Alfred would likely be awake for some time yet, so she'd probably be up and back before any of the Bats had opened their eyes. Plenty of time to just soak in photons to her heart's content.

She could only hope that Uncle Bruce wouldn't give her too much hell for it, since she'd be breaking their agreement to go easy on the sun while she was here. But she'd deal with that later. Jay was her current trainer and he called the shots. In light of last night, it would have been inevitable in short order, anyway. There was no way she could've gone on much longer the way she'd been.

But for now, the sun beckoned and Kala had no intentions of refusing its summons.

…

Turning over in his bed and burying his face in the pillow to stave off the steadily encroaching sunlight, Jay winced as the morning finally cut through his fog of sleep. "Just ten more minutes," he groaned to no one, expecting no answer save the drone of his TV that he always fell asleep to.

Except. Except, there was no drone of a TV. There was … nothing. Silence.

"Man, don't tell me I lost power again," he grumbled, flopping over and pushing himself up on an elbow, a hand pressed against an eye to rub out the sleep. He blinked hard, shook his head, and—

This was _not_ his apartment. The room around him was too opulent, too big, too … too _clean_ to have ever been a place Jason would choose to sleep.

"Oh, _fuck!"_ he spat, tossing back his covers and sliding out of the bed to search frantically for his pants and boots. How in the flying fuck did he not remember sticking around the goddamn _Manor_ last night? What the hell had even made him stay?

The sudden fire of pain in his side when he reached too far for a boot reminded him in an instant. His fucking stitches. Alfred redressing them. And Kala…

 _Shit,_ he swore to himself, sitting gingerly on the bed and dropping the boot. Pushing a hand through his hair, he forced himself calm. Just because he was royally screwed, was no reason to panic. So Bruce was gonna murder him for getting Kala hurt? Shit, _Dick_ was gonna harangue him 'til murder looked like the humane option, all for getting his girl sliced and diced. So what? He'd been dead to the family before, anyway, so what was another go at it? And that was all assuming Kala's _dad_ didn't get wind of this and decide to get creative with the heat vision. _Fuck._

A slow glance around the room as he took slow, even breaths to dial down the pain in his side, and Jason realized at last that he really _was_ in his old room, practically unchanged from the day he'd left it, complete with his favorite posters on the walls—Megadeth, Rocky Horror Picture Show, Friday the Thirteenth, Marilyn Manson—and his old school textbooks lined up neatly on the bookshelf, the way Alfred had always insisted. Jay hadn't been here in … years. A lot of years. Too many.

Had Bruce seriously saved all his shit all this time? How in the hell did that even track?

Or had it been Alfred's doing?

Shaking off the thought— _way too early for that shit,_ he reminded himself—Jay eased himself up from the bed and headed to the bathroom. The least he could do was get a damn shower and clean off the crud from the night before, wash off the rest of the blood that had dried to his hip and leg. He'd have to put his dirty clothes back on, but—

But his eyes fell on the neatly folded stack of clean clothes left on the counter next to the sink in the bathroom, that all appeared brand new. From the look of it, there was a white tee, red boxer-briefs, a pair of jeans, and even socks. And next to that lay a tray with fresh bandages so Jay could redress his wound after cleaning up.

Yep, definitely Alfred's doing. No one else was that thoughtful.

Unable to help the sense of relief that coursed through him at the discovery, Jason scrubbed a hand over his face, feeling the stubble that he definitely needed to shave if he wanted to be in any way presentable.

A glance to the other side of the sink found a complete set of toiletries and shaving supplies. Even his favorite brand of razor.

He could only hope that breakfast would go so well.

…

Mornings in Wayne Manor nearly always involved a semi-sleepy shuffle down to breakfast, waking up along the way and talking over the previous night's events. A comfortable, sociable routine, one that helped make some kind of sense of the lives they led. And while Dick was on leave from the Blüdhaven police department for the summer—he'd claimed family matters once he heard Kala was inbound—it was almost like old times.

This morning, however, the routine was interrupted by the arrival of the mail. Tim didn't pay much attention to his stack of reading material at first, more interested in getting caffeine than anything else. Dick, more of a morning person, started flipping through as soon as he sat at his usual spot at the table. Bruce hadn't come down yet.

Today's mail consisted of the usual charity requests, some financial stuff … and the latest issue of _GQ,_ to which Tim also subscribed. Hmm … the timing was right, so maybe… As soon as he slit open the 'renew now and get three issues free' advertising cover, he started grinning.

Tim hadn't seen it yet, focused on his coffee, so Dick stole his copy and smacked him in the shoulder with it.

"Ow! What is your problem?" Tim griped.

"Read that first," Dick told him, smirking. When Tim just glared, Dick took out his own copy and held up the cover.

"Holy—is that _Kala?"_

"Yes indeed. Our very own KLK is on the cover of _GQ,_ in little more than a leather jacket, no less." Grinning, Dick flipped the issue open, and it was his turn to have his eyebrows shoot up. "Oh. She's on the index, too."

"Really? They must've…" Tim trailed off, tilting his head to the side. "Oh man, Jason's gonna have a fit."

…

Far above the atmosphere, Kala hovered midair in the brightest wash of sunlight she could find. As it baked into her, her eyes closed against the intensity, she felt the moment when she began to fully-recharge, and let out a little sigh of relief. The sweetness of it was almost too much to bear, and it had been years since she'd welcomed it this much. Learning to fight like a normal full-blooded human had been essential, but _this_. Oh God, she had missed this.

Once up, Kala wasn't sure just how long she basked. Jase always described it as molten gold and Kala had never agreed so much as she did now. After so much time with only the slightest exposure, she couldn't help tipping her head back in pleasure. It felt as if all the warmth and light in the universe had been withheld from her, like she'd been ill for ages and hadn't known it until now. She shivered a little as the power seeped back into her, every cell firing fully to life. A laugh bubbled from her lips as she stretched her arms out to greet the sun.

So caught up in how wonderful it felt to be healthy again, she nearly forgot the stitches. They would only cause more problems if the rent skin healed over them at this rapid a rate. Bracing herself for what she needed to do, she held her arm up before her and trained the thinnest beam of heat vision on the dark thread peeking through her skin. Once it was loose, she took a deep breath and tugged it out, cutting through all of them as quickly as she could. That curious slithering feeling of the thread pulling through her skin still cramped her stomach, but she handled the taking-out much better than the sewing-in. The wound knit back completely as she watched, without a hint of scarring.

Huh, so the all-natural sunlight diet _did_ work for this sort of thing. Would wonders never cease.

Smiling to herself, Kala let herself hover there for just a moment more, until she was satisfied that her body was back in full working order, then let herself free-fall down through the cloud-cover, steering back in the direction of the Manor as she went and only putting on the breaks at the last second.

God help the Wayne boys. They had no idea what they were dealing with, now that she was fully recharged.

…

"What am I gonna have a fit over?" Jay groused, moving carefully into a seat at the kitchen table.

For a few seconds silence reigned, Tim and Dick glancing at each other as they tried to unobtrusively hide the magazines. Dick knew Jay had come in the night before to drop Kala off, but he'd somehow missed the fact that Jay had actually spent the night. Then again, he'd been down in the Cave and had only heard about their arrival when Babs alerted him.

He hadn't paid much attention, though. Jay … well, he wasn't exactly a threat that needed monitoring anymore, and Dick hadn't gone up to see him after their last exchange. He'd walked away from it feeling like a heel, and wondering if maybe, just maybe, Jay had come full circle at last. If he had, Dick was going to personally kiss Kala on national TV for having brought it about.

Meanwhile, the man himself was no less grumpy. "Spit it out, Drake. What's gonna give me fits?"

"I wasn't talking about you," Tim said, obviously just as weirded out as Dick was. "I meant Jason Kent."

"Huh," Jay said noncommittally, and it was odd how he sounded almost _relieved_. What had gone down at the warehouse to leave him injured enough to stay at the Manor? Oracle had said he and Kala took care of the problem successfully, but her report had been thin on details. Then again, most reports involving Jay were thin on details.

As if suddenly remembering that he was the resident jackass, Jay looked at Tim with a smirk. "So, what's your boyfriend gonna have a fit over?"

Narrowing his eyes, Tim didn't rise to the bait. "Nothing that concerns you, Jay."

But further discussion was interrupted by another arrival, Bruce walking in and heading straight for the coffee, already suited up for a day at his office. "Morning," he announced to the room, not really looking at anyone until he had his mug and had lifted it halfway to his lips. Then his eyes widened and he blinked, seeming frozen in place. "Jason," he said quietly. "Didn't expect to see you today."

Jason tensed for a moment, perfectly still, and Dick held his breath wondering if a challenge was coming. Then Jay lifted a shoulder, sipping at the coffee Alfred had supplied him, and slouched back in his chair at the table. "Didn't expect to be here. Was late when I brought Kala back, thought I'd crash," he explained.

A lifted eyebrow, and Bruce nodded, taking another sip of coffee. "Okay," he said, and slid into a chair at the end of the table, turning his focus on the mail and newspapers waiting for him there.

On the other side of the table, Dick watched the exchange, or lack thereof, with a knitted brow, noting to himself that Jay's excuse was about as thin as those sparse details about his other life were, and that Bruce was being entirely too blasé about it. Trading a look with Tim, he nodded, and at least they were on the same page; nothing was ever clear-cut where Jay was concerned, and obviously something had happened that made him want to stick around. Bruce's response had been unexpected as well, and Dick couldn't help thinking that maybe he had something up his sleeve. There had always been at least _some_ friction between the two before. If Bruce was acting like Jay coming to breakfast was pretty much business as usual … hell, Dick had no idea what that meant.

That'd have to wait, though, because when Bruce's gaze landed on the two magazine copies on the table, both lying cover side down, he huffed out a breath. "Knew that was a bad idea," he grumbled, just before the final member of the household made her morning entrance.

…

Kala strolled into the kitchen late by their standards, but not late enough to miss breakfast entirely. Fully charged, she felt like a completely different person. Finally, she understood the full weight of her father's insistence that the Kryptonian metabolism ran partly on sunlight. These last three weeks she'd been going without something essential to her well-being, and the difference in her attitude and bearing were blatant.

Coming in with her head up and shoulders back, relaxed and happy, Kala felt her skin still faintly tingling and warm from the sun. It was even possible she'd gotten a slight tan, as her skin looked a little more golden than usual against the material of the white sundress she'd picked out. Jeans, t-shirts, and yoga clothes had been the order of the day most of the summer; the dress had given her a chance to just be herself for a while, even if only for breakfast. She was already grinning impishly when they glanced up. Looked like she was the last one again. Oh well, could be worse. "Morning, gentlemen. Sorry I'm late."

It was only when she was sliding into her seat that she saw Jay, unable to hide her double-take at his presence. Either he'd come back this morning, unexpectedly, or he'd never left the house the night before. At least he looked all right this morning, his color fine. If the pain was bad at the moment, he didn't show it. "Oh, good morning, Jay. This is a surprise."

Dick stopped with his fork in midair, his eyebrows rising, while Tim cocked his head, looking at her curiously. Jay, however, completely froze, his expression unreadable. Kala was fairly certain it was her sunshine transformation. She couldn't help chuckling; she probably looked a lot different from the previous night, her broken-down demeanor and wounds all healed now after her long soak and back in her usual makeup. Though her training wasn't over and she was certain that she'd have to tone it down again, it had just been so long since she'd felt this good. It was like having been ill for months, fighting a particularly strong cold, only to wake up one day to feel strong and wonderful again. She'd cherish however long she could feel like this.

From his place at the end of the table, Bruce simply said, "I thought we agreed that you would limit your sun exposure," not even looking up from the paper.

 _Annnd here we go. I knew it. Knew it the minute I went up. Oh well, hopefully Jay will back me if he nails me to the ground, but it's not his job to bail me out._ _I_ _ **needed**_ _it._ Kala winced, trying to come up with an explanation that didn't involve personal injury.

"Yeah, well, change of plans," Jay cut in, shrugging. "She's been so run-down lately, I thought she was coming down with the flu or something. She proved last night she can fight without powers, so I told her to get a sun-soak."

Bruce stared at Jay, and Jay stared back. Several seconds ticked by as they locked gazes, no one speaking. Kala still wasn't privy to what'd been discussed when Jay had told Bruce he wanted to train her, but just the look passed between them told her with sure clarity that Bruce had been testing Jay as much as herself, and this was just another pop quiz.

Finally, to break the tension, Kala added, "You know, Dad said once that our metabolisms partly run on sunlight. It's like going without an essential vitamin—in the long-term, it could actually be dangerous."

"So … you're … no, wait. You _and Jase_ are part plant?" Tim asked, one corner of his mouth tugging up as he clearly fought a grin. "Wonderful, next time we deal with Ivy we'll bring you in and let you explain how you're one of her people."

"She's not always _wrong_ , you know," Kala shot back easily, thanking Alfred with a sweet smile for the coffee that appeared at her elbow. "On a lot of environmental issues, I can't disagree with her. It's just that she's so freaking crazy-pants over some things, her legit points get buried in the landslide of 'zomg super-villain psycho'."

Tim's reply was deadpan. "Kala, she killed a guy for spraying Round-Up on weeds growing in the sidewalk cracks. I don't know about you, but I think the 'psycho' part is justified."

"Yeah, yeah, she's a nutjob, but she _does_ have a point sometimes. It's just that no one listens to her at all because of all the other stuff. Do you have any idea how much knowledge she could share if we stopped for a minute?" Kala groused. This was a losing battle and she knew it; it was just going to be a question of which of them bit the dust this time.

But thankfully, it didn't take long. "All right then. If you're going to start defending villains, I'm going to have to ignore you until you finish your coffee," Dick said, provoking an eye roll from her and a side-eye from Jay. This wasn't the first time he and Kala had argued this particular point. "And in the meantime, I'll just be over here, reading my magazine." And with that and an obvious glance at each other, he and Tim both opened up their copies.

Looking up from her breakfast to snap out a retort and glare at them both sourly, Kala froze. Whatever she'd been about to say died on her lips. _Shit. Not_ _ **today**_. Seeing the twin covers of this month's _GQ,_ with a shot she'd been promised would be on the interior, Kala groaned. It _had_ to be the one with the damn leather jacket, didn't it? In worrying how soon she'd have to do damage-control, she completely missed the way Jay's jaw dropped at the picture. "Dammit, that dropped _today?"_

Dick grinned devilishly. "Was in the mail before we even woke up this morning. The infamous photo-shoot starring our own Kala finally makes its debut after much discussion in these hallways." She wanted to wad up her napkin and throw it at him. From the moment Bruce had protested it, she'd known she'd given Dick a reason to harass her. Might as well just take the medicine.

"Let's see, Kala, we have the cover with the jacket." Gesturing grandly, Dick proudly turned the magazine around for the whole table to see.

"Which was _not_ supposed to be on the cover, thanks very much," Kala snapped, cheeks flushing. She'd known it was going to happen, she had _known_.

"Looks like we missed out on a little because of the lettering," Dick added.

"Thank God for small favors," Kala shot back. Mercifully they'd cropped out the rest of the shot; the shirt had been longer on her. It had all been leg, but she knew she'd have heard about that.

Dick, meanwhile, rattled on with his showman's tones. "And you're on the index, too, in … a white shirt and not much else. With like three buttons buttoned. You look gorgeous, though." Helpfully, he opened the magazine and showed it to her as Kala blushed hotly.

"Yeah, and it's damn conservative compared to most other magazine's editorial shoots. I'm not showing anything too revealing, wise guy, so there. You guys are ridiculous. You act like you've never see a girl in a dress shirt before. Grayson, _give me that magazine_ _!_ Like you even have room to talk, King of Spandex," she growled through clenched teeth. Ever the gentleman, he did so, smirking at her expense. Kala just glared back in embarrassment. "Thanks, _Richard_."

Not one to just let it die down when he knew that he had something else he could razz his best friend over regarding his sister, the youngest of the boys just grinned deviously. "I dunno, Dick, I'm kinda partial to the one in the chair with green heels and the striped socks," Tim said, and he yelped as Jay stole his copy. "Hey! Get your own subscription, Todd!"

Jay looked at the page, looked at Tim, looked back at the page, and looked at Tim again. "Drake, her skirt is _transparent_ and all you noticed was the _socks?_ What kind of foot fetish do you _have?"_

 _It's_ _ **what**_ _?_ Immediately her brain was flashing back through the shoot and everything she'd worn. God, why hadn't she been paying more attention that afternoon? She should've gone back on the scheduled afternoon to see the contacts rather than allow Jenna to choose them for her, but Bruce had laid down the law that day and she'd buckled. Dammit, she should have gone herself.

The horror on Kala's face just made their amusement worse, and she felt herself going pale under her blush. She was going to be on the phone to her agent so fast. Pawing through the magazine, she flipped at speed until she found the shot. _Oh God, it_ _ **is**_ _transparent. Jase is going to_ _ **kill**_ _me. And Dad…. God, you just know someone's going to bring it up at work. Mom's just going to laugh at me._ _ **Shit.**_ But she kept it all inside, only allowing herself a sigh and a roll of her eyes.

Jay, of course, was flipping back through. _Oh well, let's just make the humiliation complete._ "Hmm, index is nice, gotta love the black nail polish. So very _Goth Queen_. Oh, and page 106 is nice, too. All sprawled all over the floor," he commented with a suggestively raised brow.

Okay, that tore it. Dick and Tim teasing her for her carelessness was one thing, but somehow, Jay even mock-leering at her photos was just too much. Especially after last night when she'd been struggling not to puke into his gut wound while she stitched it. Seeing his taunting grin now was just too much of a disconnect for Kala, after weeks of training, of barely getting even a tight grin out of him at times. He'd been so tough, so down on her for so long, that this level of playing around left her confused and a little hurt. Kala had no idea how to take it except as an insult. "Give me that!" she yelped, reaching across the table, but Jay leaned away.

"What's your problem?" Tim asked with a laugh, oblivious, shrugging. "It's a nationwide magazine with high circulation, Kala. You knew that when you posed for it. And it means more ticket sales for the band, you said it yourself. Just calm down. It's not like everyone in the _country's_ not gonna see it."

Oh, the scowl that she shot him. The worst part was that Tim was right. It was just that it didn't present as well as she'd hoped it would. "Sure, _Timmy_ , but not everyone in the country eats breakfast with me! And it's not like I don't know that you'll be on the phone to Lizardboy the minute we're done eating." On her feet then, she tried to grab the magazine out of Jay's hands. "Seriously, Jay, give me the damn thing before I rip it out of your hands!"

"No, the next page is way better. I like a girl who can laugh about taking her shirt off."

"I was _not_ taking my shirt off, that's a candid, you ass!" Kala fumed through gritted teeth. Never in her life had she been so ready to kick her own ass. Why couldn't she have timed the shoot for before she'd come to Gotham? Unlike Morgan, Robb, Ned, and Sebast, who would've hooted but given her an ego boost over it, this was like being in a house full of clones of her brother. Only, ones who weren't too embarrassed to point out the sexy stuff. God, why did she do this while she was _here_? What had made her think she could do _both_ things at the same time, no problem? Biggest mistake ever. "The damn photographer wanted me to smile and told me to think of my boyfriend, and I said I didn't have one at the moment, so he said, 'Oh, right, Goth band, think of your girlfriend' and I cracked up!"

"And why is that funny?" Dick asked speculatively.

"Because I just broke up with my girlfriend two months ago, and she's in the industry, so hush," Kala spat, not even thinking about the tidbit of information she was dropping, then redoubled her efforts to snatch the magazine away. _"_ _Jay_ _._ I am not kidding!"

"You're not kidding on page 102 either," he said thoughtfully. And was that a look of pleasant surprise in his eyes after the girlfriend remark? Kala thought it was, and could've kicked herself again. "And what is this, the photographer outlawed pants or something? Are you wearing _anything_ but the shirt there? Because you can't tell _at all_. Nice back-lighting through the open half of the shirt, too."

Kala's eyes heated briefly then, as she tried not to be mortified. She'd taken a chance with the shots with the button-up. They'd been very tastefully done, bathed in bright light, and everything had been covered. They'd honestly been her favorites of the shoot. But now … Kala's lip curled up in a vicious sneer, her face fever-hot, and the next thing anyone knew, the magazine had been forcibly ripped from Jay's grip, and Kala was across the room with both copies in hand. "That's it; if you can't do anything but act like you've never seen a girl before, you don't need them. Every one of you has the emotional maturity of a thirteen-year-old," she snapped, and pitched both magazines into the garbage can. She couldn't remember being more self-conscious in her life.

"No superpowers in the house," Bruce reminded her blandly, sipping his coffee and never taking his eyes off his copy of today's _Gotham Gazette._ When Kala just stared at him with singular fury, unable to believe he hadn't made the slightest effort to rein in his wayward sons—as if he would _ever_ imply that she was unable to deal with the situation herself—he added, "If you have this much energy, you could put some of it to use by washing the cars after breakfast. And do the Lamborghini first, I'm driving it in to work today."

Kala scowled, her eyes narrowing, but she didn't say a word as she stalked back to her chair and dropped into it. Jay, however, just couldn't seem to let the subject of her photo shoot go. "And if you've still got that semi-transparent shirt from the shoot, I suggest you wear _that._ It'd be just the thing. Maybe those twits from the _Tattler_ will catch a glimpse through the telephoto lens and get you some more publicity."

Well, she'd had more than enough of this. Resisting the urge to aim and fling her fork at his head, she turned her narrowed eyes on the man himself, making it clear that she was _done_ with this. Playtime was over. At this table, in this situation, he wasn't her trainer and they weren't working. It was _her_ turn to bluntly say what she thought. "You know what, Jay? Quit pushing your luck. The main reason you're being a douche is because you just realized that you can't handle _this_. So _you_ can kiss my sweet Kryptonian ass!" she spat before she could think better of it.

By the surprise in Jay's eyes, he'd just now caught on to the fact that he'd really ticked her off, and he shut his mouth with a snap.

Then Kala remembered who else was in the room, how she'd been trying incredibly hard to curb her swearing in front of the rest of the Bats, and glanced over at Alfred with a pained expression. Wow, what a way to break an impression to pieces. She added in a small voice, "Sorry, Alfred. It was provoked."

"Pardon me, Miss Kala, I'm afraid I didn't hear a word," he replied graciously.

And at least _that_ was a relief. The rest of breakfast went more quietly, the boys still snickering at random moments and Kala just fuming and glaring at them, at least until her phone went off. The ring tone was mariachi music, which made everyone stare at her as her eyes lit up. _Oh, thank God._ Someone who would appreciate the issue. She should've known that the boys would've gotten theirs a little earlier. The anger drained from her as she stood up. "Sorry, guys, but I have to take this. I swear I'll be back to help with dishes," she told them, leaving the room to take the call in the hallway.

…

Last night Kala had been the most miserable and pathetic thing Jay had seen all month, and all he'd wanted to do was protect her. Now, though, with a little sunlight in her, she was feisty as hell, talking smack to all of them even when they were ganging up to tease her.

Jay hadn't seen Kala this animated since … well, he'd never seen her _quite_ this animated. The sun had apparently made a hell of a difference. He didn't remember her being this vibrant even before they started the sun-starvation in earnest, but then, Bruce had mentioned not getting any extra sun. He couldn't help wondering if this was what she was like _all_ the time in her regular life.

Then there was that photo shoot… He was definitely seeing her in a whole new light today. A light that made him glad he was sitting down at a table and could focus on decidedly un-sexy breakfast food for a few minutes.

But when her phone rang out of the blue—mariachi music, _really?_ —and Kala scampered out of the kitchen, practically bouncing on her toes as she went, Jay's interest was piqued. It obviously wasn't her golden-boy Big Blue Jr. brother, not to put that expression on her face. Intrigued, he finished his coffee and stood up; by then it was safe to do so. "I've … got stuff to do," he said to no one in particular by way of excuse, but on the way out he stopped to nod to Alfred, "Thanks. For everything."

"My pleasure, Master Jason," came the old butler's reply with a gentle pat on Jay's shoulder, and that was enough to tell him that, yep, everything since he'd come in the night before had been Alfred's doing.

Making his exit, Jay found Kala in the hallway, phone glued to her ear, grinning like a lotto winner. "I miss you, too, Chupi," she said in syrupy tones Jay had never heard her use. God, it was almost sickening, the sweet way she spoke. And … and he probably shouldn't be eavesdropping like this, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him, a tiny ember of … of something he couldn't quite name growing in his chest, and he couldn't just walk away now.

Who the hell was 'Chupi', anyway? Did Dick know about this?

Finding a concealed spot from where he could listen and not be heard—at least, he _hoped,_ considering Kala's focus was pretty well trained on whoever she was talking to—Jay settled in to take in the conversation.

"Yeah, feeling a lot better than last night. I got a full night's sleep, _finally._ Hey, did you and the boys get your copies of _GQ?"_ She paused, and he heard the smile in her voice when she continued. "Aww, thank you. At least _someone_ knows how to give a compliment… Oh, the Wayne boys are being jerks. I didn't think about the fact that everyone here subscribes to _GQ,_ too." She laughed then, a carefree merry laugh. "Oh, _please_. It's not like that! … Hey, listen, serious question here. The pictures don't look too … slutty do they?"

Jay could practically hear her wince at whatever this Chupi said to _that_. "Calm down, nobody told me I look slutty, and I don't think you could get past security to kick their asses, anyway. I didn't think about how some of those would come out, and the boys just like to tease. You remember that I had to let Jenna okay the contacts because I couldn't get there? Yeah, big mistake. Should've known it would be the showier ones that would make it in. And I didn't know that green skirt was transparent, so I'm a little self-conscious. I should've been more involved with it."

She laughed again at whatever response that got, a low amused sound. " _Gracias, señor_ Gomez," Kala purred, with the appropriate accent. "I really do miss you, you know… I wish I could! Uncle Bruce is keeping me running around, and there's that charity thing this weekend. It's crazy… I know."

The other person spoke for a while, and Kala chuckled. "Yeah, well, you deserve to suffer. Whose idea was it to take Robb to the taco truck? … _Exactly_. I wouldn't do anything that stupid." Another pause, and her voice softened. "I'm counting the days, trust me. God, we haven't been apart like this in _how_ long?"

Just who the hell was she talking to? The wistfulness in her voice was obvious, and it set Jay's teeth on edge for no reason he could name.

Finally, Kala said, "I've got to go; I promised I'd help wash dishes… Yes, of _course_ Bruce Wayne can afford a dishwasher; he just says chores build character. I'll call you tomorrow. I promise… _Te amo_." When she flipped her phone shut, she leaned her head back against the wall and sighed heavily.

Oh, that cracked it. Jay remembered plenty enough Spanish to know damn well what _'te amo'_ meant, and it was way too damn obvious that Kala had meant every syllable. He just didn't know why he even gave a flying fuck; a couple of traded sutures and a mutual appreciation for guns didn't exactly make for a relationship, not even in Gotham.

But that wasn't even the worst of it. What stuck in his mind was the 'slutty' comment. How in the hell could _Kala_ think she'd looked slutty in those pics? Jay knew from slutty, and no way in hell did Big Blue's daughter fit that bill.

And shit, it was him and Dick and Tim that'd put that thought in her head in the first place. _Fucking fantastic._

He was so busy berating himself, Jay almost didn't hear her droll voice. She didn't sound upset as much as irritated, when she called him out, "Are you _seriously_ gonna hide over there skulking in the shadows, Jay? Or are you just gonna file away my private conversations for later use? As if you didn't get enough of an eyeful in the kitchen. And don't bother trying to sneak away; I can _literally_ hear you breathing, and I can hear your heart beating like a jackhammer."

An ice-cold spike of adrenaline shot up Jay's back at Kala's questioning, and he knew he'd been caught red-handed. _Fuck._


	22. and Catching Hell

Somehow, the fact that Jay was hiding in an alcove, listening in on her conversation, didn't really surprise Kala all that much. Okay, maybe it irritated her a little, but it actually amused her more. Only Jay would have the guts to eavesdrop on her, when he had to know damned well that she'd catch him. The question was, why the hell did he care?

Once she'd called him out, she slid into his hiding place before he could get away, crossed her lightly-tanned arms, and leaned against the wall across from him, fixing him with a pointed look and a sardonic smile. "And we're skulking in the morning shadows like a stalker, why?"

"No reason in particular," he shrugged, mirroring her posture. It was clear to Kala that he was deflecting, trying to hide his defensiveness, but watching him try not to squirm under her scrutiny was just too funny. "You seem pretty damn chipper for a chick that got beat all to hell last night," he went on. "Guess all that photosynthesis works wonders."

That narrowed Kala's eyes. Normally she'd let it go, but Jay had shaken her up this morning, something she hadn't quite expected. Still trying reconcile what had happened at breakfast with the man she'd been training with the last few weeks, Kala wasn't sure quite how she felt. With Dick and Tim, she'd known they would give her hell, even if the entire photo-shoot had been innocuous—it was what brothers did—but Jay, was a different story. Sure, it would have been a given at the beginning; he would have done it just for the hell of it. That said, two months of the kind of training she'd had, paring down to bare basics to learn everything he could teach her, and, with five photos in a magazine, he was back to the overcritical asshat he'd been when they'd first met? Uh-uh, she wasn't having that. Not now, not after having to trust him the way she'd had to.

No, as minor an offense as it should have been, that burned. Her thoughts were out of her mouth before she could even calculate the damage. "Yeah, it made a huge difference, clearly," she retorted, a little growl in her tone. "So, mind telling me what the hell that was in there, Jay?"

"Whoa, whoa," Jay said, raising both hands as if she were about to shoot him. "That was typical Wayne breakfast table conversation, K."

That had her arching her eyebrows then; was he really going with that as an excuse? "Typical?" Kala spat, her glowering expression telegraphing her incredulity. " _Typical_? Really?" Leave it to Jay to miss the point. "Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but I've been getting up _every morning_ to eat with these guys. All three of them, at the same time. Which I don't recalling you four ever doing before today. I don't remember that level of _bullshit_ going on at any point in the last six weeks! I swear to God, it doesn't matter how many times you show a guy you can kick his ass, guys see pictures of a girl showing any skin and they forget everything they've learned and turn into rabid animals." That was the part that really infuriated her; that feeling like she had something to be embarrassed about, especially when she had started to. There was nothing wrong with those pictures, nothing. "My mistake. I expected better of you guys!"

"Yeah, well, the last six weeks you've been on sun deprivation, and today you came to breakfast all full of sunshine and piss and vinegar. You were acting like you wanted to play, so we played," he shrugged, raising his hands to show his open palms. "I didn't mean to piss you off or anything. And why're you yelling at me, when it was Dick and Tim that started it?"

He had a point, she knew he did, but she had expected to get a little shit from Dick and Tim, had known it from the first discussion of her being in the magazine. It had been Jay's unexpected reaction that had nailed it. "Neither of your brothers did more than start it. Who was the one who had to make a big damn deal out of every fucking picture, _Jay_? You had to do a whole play-by-play, and you sounded like a shocked thirteen-year-old boy who'd just seen his first bikini or something."

"Well _excuse me_ if Babs and Cass and Steph never did a photo shoot for a men's magazine," Jay shot back. "At least not that I ever saw, anyway."

"Last I heard, you don't even know Steph or Cass personally, so check yourself." Kala felt her blood pressure shoot up despite herself. There was no way she was going to examine just why Jay's opinion infuriated her. "And would you shut up about that for two seconds? There was nothing in that shoot that would be worse than shoots for _Vogue_ or _Cosmo_! It's not fucking _Playboy!_ Dammit, Jay, can I have just _two seconds_ where I'm not catching hell from you for something I'm wearing? Please?" Kala almost shouted.

"You're right; those were too classy for _Playboy_ ," Jay replied just as sharply.

Kala stopped then, incredulous. Never had she ever been so tempted to take off a shoe and beat someone. She wasn't armed, but she could improvise. One perfect shot to the temple with her heel and he'd be out cold. "I swear to fucking _God_ , Jay," she growled her furious glare from earlier almost friendly in comparison. How could he possibly be this damn obtuse?

Jay raised his hands again. "Hey, calm down. Look, I thought they were classy then. I was just _teasing_ you, Kala. I figured if you felt this good, you could handle a little verbal rough-and-tumble. I really, truly, did not mean anything serious by it. Pinky-swear on that, if you wanna. But I didn't see you have any issues with Dick and Tim giving you hell; figured you could hold your own."

Kala frowned, giving that some thought. Any other morning, he might have been right. She and Jason had been bickering practically since the womb, God knew she had taken more than a few hits from his brothers, but Jay had struck a raw nerve in there. Just the thought of the hell she was going to get from her own family was bad enough after having seen them—so much for being so proud of her first major published shots—but it had just been too much on top of that. Then, too, she could take teasing from friends who were like brothers to her, but Jay was different. "Tim and Dick are different. They're both my friends and I kind of expected that. The pair of them have known about it since I got here; I had to tell Bruce and they've been lying in wait for it even since. You were never supposed to see it, for obvious reasons; hell, I was honestly hoping they wouldn't see it, either. But that doesn't change things; from you, it's not the same thing. Neither of them is my trainer, Jay."

He persisted in being annoyingly logical about the whole thing. "But they _were_ training you before. And the end of summer isn't that far away; you're getting damn close to graduating anyway."

That took her by surprise, that thought not having occurred to her. Kala watched him carefully, considering. Huh. That was … unexpected. The implication that she had been friend and trainee to the boys couldn't be missed, that they had been both. Tilting her head slightly, she just looked at him curiously. Was this what it sounded like? Was he trying to negotiate some sort of official cease-fire? Still smarting over the whole mess, part of her wanted to tell him to take a flying leap, but she thought she might just be starting to understand what he was trying to say. A tiny frown wrinkled her brow, and she tilted her head a little. "Wait. I have to be reading this wrong. Are you actually _asking_ for legitimate license to be on the boys' level, Red? You're admitting that we can stand each other when you're not being a snarky shit?"

"More like admitting we can stand each other when you're not being holier-than-thou and judgmental," he fired back. Kala's jaw dropped, ready to return fire, but Jay overran her with a serious look. " _Are_ you feeling that much better? I mean, with the arm and everything? This isn't all show for the rest of the family, is it?"

This was likely as close as he'd come to calling a truce. Inhaling a deep breath, she closed her eyes and let herself calm. _This is Jay._ _Asking permission isn't something he does easily. Take what you can get._ It was a step in the right direction, at least.

Letting her eyes flare for just an instant, she gave him an aggravated sigh before stomping down on her vexation. Nope, irritation just wasn't a strong enough word. Sometimes she had to force herself to remember, despite life experience, that he was still a guy and let it go. "Could you possibly be more of an ass?"she muttered, trying to push her muddled feelings away as she glared at him. Why was it always so complicated with him? _God._ "Yeah, fine. Truce, if you let this drop. I'll even backlog any plans to blow up your bike in retaliation at the moment." Taking a deep breath, she answered his last questions. "No, it's not a show. I actually feel pretty damn fabulous. Better than I have all summer. So, we were right about the sun. Think I get why people go crazy about spring after a long winter now. Pretty apt, even if I'm a winter-baby, myself."

 _He didn't have to let you go up; give the guy a little bit of a break, Kala._ That was a point she had to concede. He hadn't had to, but he had. Hell, he had even offered her a place to sleep last night when she couldn't function. Never mind where her own mind had gone; he had gone out of his way to take care of her. Maybe she could throttle it back a little.

With that in mind, Kala took a deep breath, trying to release the tension before giving him the tiniest glimpse of a smile despite herself. "I do owe you some thanks besides. I wanted to play by the rules, and I would have waited for the stitches to heal normally if you had told me to, but yeah, I was at the limit, I think. It's never been like that before, not being able to stay coherent. You didn't have to give me the okay to go up, but you did. So thank you. Sorry I couldn't hold on longer, but I think Dad's right. Powers or no powers, the solar rays have to fine-tune me and Jase, more than him. Maybe it's the allergies I had growing up; they may revert back to original settings and make my immune system weaker without the sun. I've tried to stay powered-up enough that I've never known for sure. We know that most of it has to be the difference between species." It was awkward to bring it up like this, but hybrid systems worked differently and she wasn't ashamed of what she was.

That said, she couldn't help turning the screws on _him_ just a bit for payback. Taking a closer look, the differences between the Hood last night and Jay this morning was a little bit of a surprise. "And I'm not the only one who's looking better than expected, if we're going there. I sure wouldn't be up and around this early, if I were you. All that last night, and you even shaved. I was starting to think that that stubble was permanent or something. The twelve-thirty shadow look wasn't bad, but this is a good look on you," she said with an affected little purr in her tone, smirking up at him; she hadn't seen him clean-shaven since they'd met, and the effect was an eye-opener. The man she'd worked with, fought with, snarked with, was there, but just the little changes made her look at him differently; something she realized that she wasn't entirely comfortable with, especially after that bull this morning. That said, there was nothing wrong with admiring a good-looking guy. Even if he was an asshole. Really.

… what the hell was wrong with her?

"Wow, all that sunlight's gone to your head, too," he shot back easily, matching her smirk and raised eyebrow. "Just so happens that Alfred left me some stuff in my bathroom, and I decided to take advantage. It certainly has nothing to do with _you."_

That prompted a delighted grin from Kala, relieved that he hadn't taken it as entirely serious. And if they were going to play at verbal sparring, he'd left her a nice opening to score points off of him. "Oh, clearly. Far be it from me to imply such a thing."

Jay showed his teeth in a wicked grin as he made his own implications. "And besides, you get enough play between Dickie-Bird and whoever 'Chupi' is; I don't need to throw my hat in the ring, too."

She couldn't resist a laugh at that taunt. Cute, real cute. " _Ouch_. Two is too many for you to potentially steal me from? Are you implying I'm not worth it, Red? You're breaking my heart with your cruelty," Kala singsonged dramatically. "Also, you're forgetting Timmy." But then the implication of Jay's statement hit her, and she frowned at him in disbelief. No wonder he was being such an ass; Jay was _still_ assuming that she was double-dipping here in Gotham. A cackle of a laugh escaped her. Why hadn't she guessed after his comment on her first baby patrol? If she didn't know better, it sounded like there was more than disapproval in Jay's voice.

Something more like … jealousy. Well, that explained a little more, then.

Crossing her arms at him, she shook her head slowly and drawled, "Not that it's any of your business, Jay, but you're still stuck on that? I told you the other night, _I'm not sleeping with Dick_. Hell, I'm not sleeping with anyone but me. Again, not that it's any of your business. And like the dead, at that. _I am here to_ _ **train**_. How many times do I have to say that? If we're gonna try to get along, let's get a few things straight here, Jay. Dick's a treat for the eyes, I think the world of him, but he's like a kid in a candy store. He wants to try a little of everything, and he's so utterly fascinated with it all, you can't blame him. But I demand more than a little attention, and every day for him brings new and interesting challenges. Variety is essential for Dick. Me, I like to be more than a passing wonder. And we're both good with that. We're much better friends and allies. The way things worked out, it was easier to use Dick as a good excuse for why I was in town for the summer, part of a family favor, and the entertainment media took it as a potential romance. Neither Dick and I have minded, but don't believe the hype. That's all it is."

"Oh really?" Jay said, his expression moving from what had looked like grumbling disappointment into amusement. And interest.

"Not to mention that he's O's ex. I know that that ship sailed forever ago, but I was a fan when I heard about it, though it was already over by then. I wouldn't touch that with a fifty-foot pole now, either, because I've seen them together. Whoever permanently catches Dick had better toe the line or I pity them," she added, all too aware of how protective those two were still of each other, no matter how Babs fobbed it off. "It's impossible not to love him to death; that said, still not happening. For either of us. It's absolutely the same thing for Tim, though Tim is even more off-limits. It would be like hooking up with Jase, which _yeah_. Gross and practically-twin cooties, for lack of a better term."

Pausing, she watched Jay's expression move on into the land of confusion. _Interesting._ "And 'Chupi' is Sebast, and it's something of the same situation," she went on, though she guiltily knew she was oversimplifying. "You weren't watching as you came in; I was on the phone with him when you pulled up last night. We've been best friends since we were fourteen; he's the other lead singer for the band and stuck doing both of our jobs while I'm gone. Which includes having to be Wendy and Peter Pan at once; no mean feat." Kala smirked knowingly at him at that, arching a dark brow. "You'd know that if you'd read the article that went along with the picture, you ass."

A shrug as he schooled his expression at last, and Jay quirked his lips. "Okay, so I didn't get that far," he admitted. "Get me a copy and I'll read it." Naturally, he had to waggle his eyebrows with that.

Kala figured she could hardly be blamed for the dark look she shot him then. "Uh-huh. I forgot, poor boy, too distracted."

"Well, if you'rel gonna put it out there…"

Knowing the snark for it was, Kala just ignored the urge to swat him she felt at the comment. He was just doing it to desensitize her to it. Actually, he was probably doing it for both reasons, knowing Jay. When you thought of it that way, she couldn't help but laugh. Leave it to him to find a two-fer in this. "Oh, just keep running that mouth of yours, Jaybird. And I'm at full power? You're just _begging_ for it today."

The smile he gave her was the very definition of sinful. "I _never_ have to beg, Princess."

Thinking back over what she'd just said, she could kick herself. How did she keep giving him ammunition to snark at her? It didn't help that the implication in his comment startled her—and got to her in ways she didn't dare think about. They'd teased, yeah, but this was different. Something had shifted within the last few weeks, though she didn't know just when. In the midst of training, Kala realized that she was starting to see him as more of a person, less of a machine, of a force of nature. And the dislike had dissipated, bit by bit. Did this make them … something like friends, like he'd implied that they could be? Who knew? Stranger things had happened.

With that thought, she let herself relax and lobbed another jibe at him. "Of course you don't, Jay. Not a clue why I'm not wading through women every time I walk into the bunker." But had to laugh then, shaking her head at him. Now that the initial smarting of the _GQ_ debacle was wearing off, it was easier to face him. "So all of that was just about riling me up? _After_ I got my powers back. You honestly have a death wish, don't you?"

Jay just shrugged again, seemingly unwilling to answer the question as he smiled faintly. He probably didn't want to get himself into any more trouble. "Maybe I'm just feeling up to a little cat and mouse today," he answered instead, deflecting. Again.

Oh, a part of her wanted to take him up on that, but only if she knew how level the playing field was. After a moment, Kala shook her head to herself. If he wanted to play, she'd make him chase her to do it. Hands on her hips, she smirked at him before turning on her heel and starting away. Constantly being a target just wasn't an option. "Cat and mouse, huh? Have fun playing with yourself, then," she shot over her shoulder. "Thanks to this morning's fiasco, I've got work to do before we can train."

But a hand fell on her shoulder, feeling like an echo from the night before, and Jay was entirely too close for comfort. "Wait," he said quickly.

Well, she hadn't expected that so quickly, or how the touch startled her. A glance back over her shoulder, and Kala only arched that sardonic brow at him again. She should probably still leave, make him work for it, but damn him, he just looked too pitiful in that moment, the light in the hall shining in his blue eyes. "What?" she asked, turning to slip back into the alcove despite herself, feeling as if this might be important.

Jay crossed his arms again and averted his gaze, and the thought struck Kala that he didn't want to have to say whatever he was about to. "You didn't look slutty, okay? I mean, have you _seen_ what half the caped community wears? Your costume's inefficient and a little risqué, but you've never looked slutty. In the raciest of those _GQ_ pics you had more covered than Diana does on a daily basis. And you've met Kori, right? And Mister 'Sculpted Ass' Grayson in there?"

Well, _that_ was Unexpected Occurrence Number Two. Of all the things he might have said, she never would've seen that one coming. She'd never heard him say that demeaning word to anyone anywhere within her hearing; it just didn't seem to be something he was capable of. So, _this_? For him to so decisively declare that she _didn't_ look slutty in those snaps, to counter all the teasing from the kitchen, was a hell of a curveball, even if it meant that he'd heard every word she'd said to Sebast.

A slow smile started to move back over her face. That, that was _huge_. "Wait just a second. Was that an _apology?_ From _you?"_ she asked, brow still ticked up incredulously. "Are you _sure_ you're feeling better? Maybe it's a fever; maybe you're delirious." Holding a hand up to his forehead as if to take his temperature, she let her smile widen. Just when she thought she was starting to figure him out, Jay somehow managed to come up with something out of left field. How was it that he kept throwing her off so bad?

But then Jay flinched a little, as if involuntarily protecting his side, and Kala felt the color drain from her face as she remembered that he'd been hurt a lot worse than she had the night before. Now that she was awake and fully aware, she remembered the fight and his injury all too clearly. There was no way he should've trusted her to tend to his wound. God, how had she let him talk her into doing it in the first place? Without thinking, she put her hand on his forearm as she tried to read his face. "Oh crap, I didn't mean—are _your_ stitches okay?"

Jay shook his head. "They're fine. Alfred redid one that popped last night after I brought you in. Got 'em redressed and all, and I had a shower, so they're all clean. Not like you screwed 'em up or anything," he finished with a shrug.

Somehow, Kala knew that that wasn't the whole story—a popped stitch was nothing to shrug off—but she figured Jay would tell her if he really wanted to. Which was okay; she'd get the lowdown from Alfred later.

Still, she couldn't help frowning a little at that, sighing at herself in self-recrimination. "You never would've gotten hurt in the first place if you hadn't had to tow my dead-weight around. Not to mention that I could've taken a cab. You likely wouldn't have busted that thing if you'd stayed at the bunker." She gave a him a tiny smile then, trying to make it sound less like nagging. "Besides, I'm pretty sure my arm would've survived the journey without a trip to the trauma unit. Not so sure we could say the same for you. Did Alfred do the deeper stitches you needed after he pulled mine out?" She paused then, thinking about it before adding with a serious expression, "Because you know I just couldn't live with myself if the masculine beauty of your side had been compromised. It would lie on my conscience forever." There was no smile to indicate the teasing, but her eyes sparkled with deviltry.

"Cute," Jay smirked back at her. But then he lifted a shoulder. "You weren't dead weight, you know. I'd've had trouble if I'd been running solo – at least, unless I decided to just shoot them all. As for my impeccable masculine beauty, Alfred just fixed what needed fixing. Wasn't a big deal. And I'm sure the scar'll blend in just fine with the others. Don't mind a little souvenir of a fun night."

How he could make light of the utter disaster that was last night, she'd never know. If anything, she'd half-expected him to come down pretty hard on her for the loss. Instead, he seemed to be teasing her over it. Grinning despite herself, she shook her head at him. "Only you would call it that," she laughed; clearly, Jay had a lopsided view of what 'fun' was. Although, she'd be hard-pressed to deny she was learning to enjoy it. "We shot the Joker in effigy, and then were totally out-numbered. E-ticket ride, surely. Oh, and did I mention that we both wound up with stitches? Yeah, it was a regular night out at the carnival. Too bad we missed out on cotton candy. Gotta charge Mask for that."

But Jay just grinned more widely, tipping his chin up. "I seem to remember you lighting up like a Christmas tree when I pulled out my .22. Never seen anyone bounce with so much utter glee."

Rolling her eyes at the double-entendre, Kala relaxed against the opposite wall of the alcove and resisted the obvious comeback about everyone else fleeing in terror when he pulled out his gun. "Okay, point to you," she said instead. "I shouldn't have been a brat and told you that I have a way with guns. I'd better by now. Like mother, like daughter. Now, you had if you'd let me mess with something a little bigger…" Her breath caught in her throat as she realized just how that sounded. A hot flush rose across her cheeks, and she glanced away with an irritated groan. For the first time since she'd met Jay, nothing she was saying was coming out right. Unable to stifle her laugh, hazel eyes went skyward in a silent plea for some sort of sanity. What a morning.

"I aim to please," Jay said, smirking darkly. Something in his eyes told her then that he was about to unleash a world of snark upon her. "And bigger, huh?" he went on. "Never heard any complaints before. Got a whole arsenal, you know."

Another laugh escaped Kala, and she grinned wickedly. She couldn't help it; God forbid that she turn down a challenge. Some of it, though, was amazement that she was joking like this with Jay. Hard-ass Jay, who had been nothing but short and snarly when she met him. Never had she thought a conversation like this was possible. "Oh, I'm sure. So, you're saying that, while Uncle Bruce has a utility belt full of gadgets, the Jaybird edition of Robin not only comes with a belt, but also comes with multiple accessories? That'd be a neat trick. Got a weapon in your arsenal to fit every lady's tastes, then?" _Oh my God, what am I doing? Stop it, Kala!_

Jay chuckled, low and deep. "Well, if you're into tentacles, I'm sure there'd be a way to oblige. Maybe get Ivy on the line. But nope, just the one. It's all I need. And not just for the ladies."

 _That_ was an eye-opener. _**Huh, okay.**_ She just stared at him for a beat, completely wide-eyed and scuttled. It was a hell of a thing to process. The thought didn't change her perception of him, though, just made her snicker. Okay, maybe it was safe to be a little more honest with herself about last night. It was pretty damn clear, then, that he could play both sides, considering that moment on the range. She'd been around boys her whole life, knew involuntary reaction when she felt it, but that hadn't been disinterest, regardless of how he might feel about her. No wonder they had each other's number. "Oh _reeeally_?" she said, fixing him with a mischievous look. "Well, that practically guarantees that you and Sebast would get on great with that attitude. He's always up for ridiculous challenges. "

"Bring it," Jay shot back, heat creeping into his gaze as he straightened up and loomed over her, crowding into her space. "I'll ruin him for all other men."

When Kala tipped her head back to look up at him, she could feel her grin just blaze then, a little disturbed by the reaction she felt to him trying to intimidate her, the sudden tightness in her chest. Dangerous, this, regardless of the whos and hows. Oh boy, this was a bad idea, starting to see him this way. "Oh, you have no idea how much competition you have there. Trust me, he and Dick could battle it out for time served." God, he just didn't hold back anything _ever_ , did he? Her and her big mouth. It was impossible to rein in her smile now. Arching an eyebrow and trying not to blush and crack up at the sudden and unexpected mental image of Jay and Sebast trying to out-top each other, Kala gazed up at Jay and poked him in the chest with a finger. Funny, how seeing more of this side of him made her just a little more curious what was going on in that head. "You are absolutely the worst kind of influence, sir. Anybody ever tell you that you're entirely too dangerous for polite conversation?"

"Only everybody that's ever met me. And certain Titans that shall remain nameless," he replied, backing out of her space as he tucked the tip of a finger under his nose and lifted his head. "If you catch my meaning."

Suddenly she could breath again, doing it and not acknowledging it as hard as she could. "Oh, I definitely gotcha." Kala allowed herself a little snort; it was the first time she'd even seen or heard a negative comment about Troy, however veiled. Thank God someone else knew how it felt. The memory of her dressing-down would only spoil her mood, so she decided to steer them back on track and out of the land of lame dick jokes and bitchy Titans and Jay's personal life. "You gotta admit, though, they've got a point; being around you does tend to result in some pretty epicly unpredictable … complications. Good thing I don't have any issues with life-threatening situations or large firearms—all allusions to human anatomy aside," she added with another quirk of a brow and a teasing smirk. "Even if my choice of uniform is a basic disaster. Which, by the way, I request a lack of spandex in the redesigned model."

"Hey, dangerous is part of the job," Jay shot back easily. "And no problem. I should have some preliminary designs made up by tonight or tomorrow. Gonna take tonight off, anyway," he said, waving a hand vaguely down at his side and the wound hidden beneath his t-shirt, "if you don't mind. Cuts through muscle are a bitch to heal up from."

Kala widened her eyes fractionally, and she started to open her mouth to protest. She'd just been joking about the uniform, but she remembered that Jay had been fairly serious about it the night before. And he'd had a point about how complicated her current outfit was. Maybe … maybe Jay was right on that one. "No pressure on the suit, Jay. Really. And no worries about tonight. Easily a rain check. I was going to suggest it if you didn't; I didn't play fair or we'd both be out." But then she couldn't resist a conspiratorial smile, teasing. "This keeps up, maybe next time we train I can do all the work while you sit to the side with your cane, barking orders, Master Splinter. Might be safer for you, really." Unable to resist, she gave him her most sincere, concerned look, though she knew her eyes gave it away.

"What?" Jay spat, a short laugh escaping him as he gaped at her. "Oh, now it's on." And with a quick move, he straightened from his place in the alcove and planted his hands on the opposite wall, framing Kala's head. His not-so-suppressed wince told Kala he'd probably pulled his stitches, but then he smirked down at her. "We need a real rematch anyway. You know, since you're all sun-infused now?"

This second attempt to intimidate her had the exact opposite effect. _Oh boy._ This time Kala let herself laugh huskily, challenging him with a look as she tilted her face up again to his. Oh, this was trouble. She knew it was trouble. What the hell was wrong with her that he was getting under her skin? Obviously, Jay had no idea what he was proposing. And though this wasn't a direction she'd been expecting their conversation to take, she wouldn't deviate. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to let loose a little. If Sebast could unleash himself on the unsuspecting population of Los Angeles, why couldn't she play? It had been a hallmark of she and Dick's relationship thus far. None of it was serious, most of it simply grandstanding, and he was having his moments of being less savage, besides.

So what would it hurt to just let herself enjoy this a little? Where was the harm?

Yeah, maybe there wasn't anything wrong with playing back. Just returning a little of what he'd been giving her on and off. "Be careful what you wish for," she said, grinning up at him teasingly, before leaning her face just a little closer to his, a breath away, then ducking out of the cage of his arms and dancing out of the alcove. The look of slow registration on his face that she'd moved brought a laugh to her lips. "Next time we spar, you had better be prepared. It's about time you met the _real_ Kala, finally. You wanna play, Jay, let's play. You need to know everything I can do, as my trainer, right? And no one takes anything personally at the end of the day?"

Sputtering as he stood again, he was quick to turn his surprise into a smirk, and he crossed his arms again, facing her. "The real Kala, huh?" he teased back. "Trying to tell me there's more than one of you?"

Her grin widened, and Kala gave another chuckle as the tingling of warm sunlight streaming into the hall against her bare back made her feel invincible. Just like the look he was giving her, though she refused to acknowledge it. "You wanted me down to human-level, remember? The real Kala's a Kryptonian hybrid, Jay. You only know half of it, especially after I've had your training under my belt. The difference is night and day, Red. Rest up that side. You're gonna need it, I think. Call my cell when you're good to go." Again, the day was looking up, and from an unexpected source. Now if she just didn't think too hard about the 'why'. With a final grin over her shoulder, Kala disappeared back up the hallway and into the kitchen.

…

As Kala slipped away, Jay just shook his head, staring after her. This certainly hadn't been the sort of morning he'd expected, especially waking up in a place he hadn't spent a night in since too many years ago to count. He'd definitely thought he'd get more attitude from Bruce, and a hell of a lot more shit from Dick and Tim. And Kala … he hadn't thought she'd be so … so cheerful, even with the long sun-soak. He'd figured on broody angst and circles under her eyes. Damn if she hadn't proved him utterly wrong.

Not that he minded. Hell no. In fact, he could kinda get used to this side of her. It was … refreshing. Night and day, like she'd said.

As for whatever the hell was happening between them … Jay didn't want to think about it too much. Yet. Especially since he'd gone and made such an ass out of himself over Dick, and Kala's little boy toy, Sebast. The little ember in Jay's chest flared again just thinking about it, and he finally recognized it for what it was: fucking _jealousy._ Oh yeah, like he needed _that_ shit on top of everything else. As if it wasn't bad enough that he'd gone all defensive and hit her with stupid dick jokes. Somewhere in time, thirteen-year-old Jay was laughing his ass off.

Adult Jay wanted to punch him in his smart mouth.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he finally uprooted himself from where he stood in the hall, staring like an idiot at the kitchen door, and headed back upstairs to collect his dirty clothes and used bandages so Alfred wouldn't have to clean after him—no point in getting too used to being taken care of, and no point in hanging around any longer. He had too much shit to do back at his place anyway. Like cleaning up the bloodied floor and the suture supplies, cleaning up the mess from their ruined clothes, taking down the Joker face targets they'd left up in their haste to get to the warehouse, and getting to work on Kala's new costume.

Shit, he was designing a costume for a _Super._ How the hell was that supposed to work? He was completely screwed. And he—

He was starting something with Big Blue's _daughter._

The thought stopped him in his tracks as he made his way upstairs, and Jay shivered, forcing down the little spike of panic that tried to shoot up his spine. No, Kala was a big girl, dammit. She was old enough to have risqué pictures in _GQ_ , she was old enough to take on a training regimen that had nearly gotten them both killed the night before. She was old enough to do whatever the fuck she wanted, and _not_ have Daddy Supes come swooping in to fry off the protruding parts of Jay's body.

Silently ordering himself to stop being a complete moron and asshole, Jay headed the rest of the way up to his old room. Utterly screwed didn't even _begin_ to cover it.

…

Kala strolled back into the kitchen with a self-satisfied little smile on her face, still lost in thought, and promptly became aware of two intense stares burning into her. She arched an eyebrow at Tim and Dick, who both just grinned at her. "What?" she asked, crossing her arms and staring at them both.

"So did Jay figure out who the mariachi guy is?" Tim asked, stifling a chuckle.

"I didn't know we had competition," Dick added, not bothering to hide his amusement.

"Grayson, you're a jerk," Kala sighed, changing her choice of words at the last second in deference to Alfred, who was unobtrusively straightening the table linens. "It was Sebast checking up on me. Don't be jealous; it doesn't suit you."

The two boys had started the dishes, the right half of the sink full of suds, but at Kala's remark Tim rinsed his hands. "Since you're more awake, Kala, I figure you can finish this," he said.

She scowled. "Great, I've gotta wash _all_ the freakin' cars and you're giving me the dishes, too? Just wonderful. I'm obviously getting all of the love today. Thanks, guys. Thanks a lot." It annoyed her that she couldn't even complain about how she'd been injured last night and deserved a break. The sunbath had totally ruined any chance of that being viable. That'd cause more problems than it solved.

"It'll take you ten seconds," Dick told her gently. "Besides, Tim and I will give you a hand in the garage."

"We will?" Tim said archly, and Kala glared at him through narrowed eyes. _I'll remember this, Drake._

"We will. C'mon, Tim," Dick said. On his way past Kala, he tweaked one of the stray curls of her raven hair. "I wouldn't want to interfere with your reminiscing, anyway. Anyone who can put that kind of smile on your face is worth thinking about for a while."

That, finally, made Kala blush. Was it a bad thing that she'd been smiling about one man when she walked out, and another when she returned? Even worse, she'd been thinking of _Jay_ , and she knew without being told that neither of his brothers could find out about their little flirtation.

That's all it was, flirtation, no more serious than Dick tugging her hair. Just another game like she'd been playing with pretty boys all her life. And never mind how Jay's pale blue eyes captured hers, the way his nearness made her go still and quiet. Never mind the way she couldn't breathe for a minute when he'd gotten up in her space. Yeah, never mind that at all.

Starting in on the dishes with a sigh of defeat, Kala determinedly kept her mind off of boys of all kinds.

When Alfred appeared at her side to dry the dishes, though, she gave him a grateful grin for the help. Which reminded her… "I didn't get a chance to tell you, but thank you for carrying me upstairs and tucking me in last night, Alfred. You'd have been well within your rights to leave me sleeping at the door or wherever Jay dropped me. We were both about that tired."

"Oh, no, Miss Kala, that wasn't me," he told her, amusement sparkling in his eyes.

"Then, who—?" Kala trailed off, wondering if that was why Dick was being cute. Had it been him? He'd been on the docket for home last night, pulling time in the Cave, monitoring surveillance, she knew. Someone had taken her boots off, pulled down her hair, and tucked her in. He really was the only choice. It couldn't be Bruce or Tim; they hadn't been home yet.

"Master Jason, of course. Once he'd carried you inside he felt it best to take you to your room himself. I believe he was attempting to sneak in without my knowledge—but that, as you know, is quite impossible."

Her eyes meeting his, she startled. That couldn't be right. "Wh—he what?" Kala sputtered, nearly dropping a dish and catching it before it could fall into the sink. Jay never babied anyone in the family, for any reason, and she wasn't even technically family. Not when he could've handed her off to one of the others and was hurt himself. The very idea that Jay would actually do that for her was ludicrous.

Or … or was it?

Alfred smiled at her knowingly. "Oh yes, he was quite adamant," he answered, drying a dish as she handed it over. "He seemed quite worried for your well-being, to be honest. Poor boy didn't even realize he was bleeding profusely, until I pointed it out. That, I believe, was the catalyst for his staying the night."

At that, Kala's jaw dropped and she gaped at Alfred. After all Jay had done, stitching her up, bringing her home at all, offering to design a new costume for her … tucking her in when he'd been bleeding all over the place was the last thing she'd expected. God, especially considering how torn up he'd been. What on earth had he been thinking?

Her brow furrowed further then. Why hadn't he said anything? Most other guys she knew would've played the 'Prince Charming' card in a heartbeat if they were in his place. That he hadn't mentioned it…

Nah, she had to be hallucinating. Maybe it was another side-effect of the long sun-soak this morning. There was no way that Red was playing down his good side. Unless he just didn't want her to know. But why would he want to hide that from her? With all that hard core flirting in the hallway, she'd have figured he'd be pulling out all the stops to—

 _Oh._

Politely thanking Alfred for letting her know what'd happened the night before, Kala finished the dishes quickly, and headed out to the garage to get to work on the cars, all the implications of what Jay had done swirling in her head.

She was so lost in her thoughts, she never saw the way Alfred's smile followed her out.


	23. Intervention

Dick found a good spot to watch over Mask's offices and made his way to it, careful to remain unobserved. The scattered clouds helped, crossing the face of the moon and offering mobile cover. Just before he dropped into the little well of darkness between two angles of the opposite building, however, Dick heard a familiar voice mutter, "Boo."

After a startled moment and a whispered Romany curse or two, Dick growled, "You weren't on the roster."

"I do my own surveillance," Jay's voice drifted back. Now that Dick knew he was there, he could see the vague form that a moment ago had appeared to be only deeper shadows. He could also see there was room enough for both of them—and in another ten seconds the cloud would move and expose his current position.

No choice but to drop down beside Jay, the younger man automatically making space for him. Jay scoffed. "Might as well. Keeps you from giving away my position."

"Yeah, yeah," Dick sighed, resigning himself to a few hours of putting up with Jay's attitude. "Look, I've got sensors inside."

"I know. I'm listening to them now," Jay replied smugly, and grinned at Dick's look of consternation. "Babs gave me a comm, D. Not to mention, I reverse-engineered your headset and figured out your usual frequencies years ago. Why bother placing two sets of bugs when I can just skim off yours?"

Dick sighed. He should've expected that. "Anything interesting so far?"

Shaking his head, Jay replied, "Nope. Just Mask ranting at his usual guys about getting set back by us, and them standing there and taking it like the idiots they are. He clocked one of 'em upside the head a few minutes ago. The only one he won't punch is that assistant of his, the one he calls a consigliore. Doesn't even bother to pronounce it right. All these assholes think they gotta follow the mob's example, but they're about as Italian as Spaghetti-Os."

They passed a few moments in silence, listening to Sionis rage, but eventually that died down and the lieutenants were dismissed without anything useful being said. "What I wouldn't give for a rocket launcher right now," Jay sighed.

"You did that. Mask got out in time," Dick pointed out.

"Yeah, but it was worth it to see him run," Jay chuckled.

"We wouldn't get any more info out of him, and someone in the organization would just take his place." That, Jay couldn't argue with, and Dick sat in thoughtful silence. For once it seemed like Jay was going to let things ride, act like they were actually on the same side, and Dick was grateful for that. It didn't always have to be a fight between them. Not anymore. At least, as long as Jay would _let_ it be that way.

There were many things Dick could've asked, but he didn't want to upset the fragile accord between them. After Babs had taken him to task, he'd reevaluated things, and it _was_ beginning to look like Jay was serious about coming back into the fold. The fact that Bruce had let him stay over without comment—that Bruce continued to let him train Kala without any apparent supervision, despite the times she'd come home bruised—was very telling. And if Bruce, who trusted so few people, trusted Jay with Kala, Dick had to give him a chance at least.

Eventually the silence began to get on his nerves, though. Mask was going over his ledgers with his right-hand guy, nothing especially incriminating, but they couldn't just leave. For one, if Mask happened to look out the window, he might see them. And for another, if they left, they'd both be haunted by the thought that Mask had let something crucial slip while they weren't watching, something that sounded innocuous on the tapes but would have import combined with his gestures and stance.

So to break the quiet, Dick asked, "How's Kala coming along, then?"

Jay snickered nastily. "Not talking to you, is she?"

"I don't actually see her that often these days," Dick replied. "She did say she went on patrol with you."

"Kiddie patrol," Jay said with a dismissive shrug.

Kiddie patrol in the Bowery meant thugs, dealers, muggers, thieves, pimps, and other urban wildlife, but for people who went up against the mobs and the masks, it was small time. Dick controlled his knee-jerk spike of alarm at thinking of Kala out there. He and Tim and Bruce had taken her out after some of Mask's men—with plenty of backup, true, but she'd gone out. And Babs had sent her out with Dinah and Helena. She was doing fine with all of them, Dick had even begun to relax about her taking point on occasion. So the only difference was … well, the Bowery. Home sweet home to Jay, Hell on Earth to anyone else. Gotham wasn't like any other city, and the Bowery wasn't like any other neighborhood in Gotham. Heck, Dick didn't even like _Jay_ being down in that mess, and Jay was _from_ there.

"She did good?" Dick asked, keeping his tone light.

"Pretty good. She'll get better." Jay's reply had a note of finality in it, as if he had no intention of discussing his training plans with Dick. To reinforce that impression, Jay turned to him and spoke with a wicked grin in his voice. "Still looking after her even though she's not your girlfriend, huh?"

So Jay had finally figured that one out. "I never said she was," Dick pointed out.

"Yeah, you never said she _wasn't_ , either. Had your eye on her, huh?" Still that snicker under the words. "Too bad she says she figured out on the ride from the airport that she wasn't gonna be your summer special."

Dick blinked behind his domino. That sounded … way too triumphant. It also sounded like Jay had gone and _told_ Kala he thought she was Dick's girlfriend. She'd obviously denied it in just the right way to actually convince Jay there really wasn't anything going on between them … but because Dick hadn't corrected him, Jay now thought Dick had a crush. Which told him way more about Jay's thoughts on Kala than he expected Jay would want him to know.

His contemplative silence made Jay chuckle. "C'mon, Dickie-Bird. Didja really think K was gonna leap at the chance to be a new notch on your very-much-notched bedpost? Get real. She ain't that kinda girl."

 _Careful, now._ If he wanted to pump Jay for information, he had to play this very carefully. "A guy can hope," was all Dick said, stiffly as if offended.

"Yeah, well, any guy who sees that ass in tight jeans is gonna _hope_ , but hope doesn't get you anywhere with someone like K," Jay remarked.

"So you've been checking out the view," Dick said, trying to keep it casual.

Jay was instantly defensive despite that. "I'm not blind. Neither are you."

"Oh, she's beautiful," Dick agreed. "Problem is I remember her as a kid, all eyes and curly hair and bossy mouth." That hadn't been on his mind at the airport or in the limo, but he and Kala had gotten themselves firmly settled into their current roles, and remembering her as a kid helped keep them there. Jay didn't need to know he'd ever been tempted, especially not when Dick was fishing for info on where Jay's mind was at the moment. Better to let him think that it had been all brotherly from the first moment.

"Could get used to the bossy mouth," Jay muttered.

"As I recall, you don't like taking orders from anyone," Dick teased. Gently, though, with a little smile.

"Never said I'd _follow_ orders. I do like the attitude. Shows she has grit." There was a warmth in his tone that Dick hadn't heard directed at anyone except Alfred, at least not since Jay almost-died.

Dick decided it was time to warn Jay off a little. It was good to see him showing interest in something other than putting bad guys in the hospital—or the morgue—but Kala was his trainee. And that was always a bad situation. Mixing mentor/student dynamics with romance tended to end badly. "Yeah, she has grit. She also has Superman for a dad. And he could be in Metropolis and _still_ hear you admiring her derriere."

Jay just snorted. "Oh, is _that_ why you didn't make a play? Nah, D, you're reading too much into this. I like the look of her, but I like her guts and brains better. She's gonna be every crook's worst nightmare when she comes into her own."

"And you like that about her," Dick said softly. Jay turned to glower at him, and he continued, "Just be careful, Jay. That's all I ask."

His brother snorted and shook his head. "The things you don't know, D."

For once Dick wondered what those things might be. Just what _else_ had happened to Jay along the line? Before he could begin to question it, though, Mask was on the move, and both boys focused their attention on the audio feed.

To their disappointment, Mask was turning in for the night. Nothing good tonight, just time spent cramped and sweating for no profit, but they both knew if they'd stayed away they would regret it. Dick waited a few minutes for Sionis and his assistant to clear the area, then stretched a little before rising.

Jay, who had been lurking longer, stretched too, his back popping. "Well, D, I gotta admit I like the heart-to-heart better than kicking your ass on a rooftop. Still have no fucking clue what your angle is here, but whatever. It beats messing up your pretty face."

His automatic reaction was to bridle, thinking that if he and Jay had actually fought it out on that rooftop, Dick wouldn't have lost. But then he realized that rising to the bait was exactly what Jay wanted him to do, so he clapped Jay on the shoulder. "Good to see you too, little bro, and when you're not stealing anyone's magazine, at that."

Jay scoffed. "Yeah, so I'm gonna go back to what I'm doing, and you can go back to being K's fairy godfather. See you, D." With that he was gone, dropping from their perch to a lower ledge with far more grace than a man his size should've had—although not as much as he usually did.

Dick frowned. Was that a slight flinch when Jay landed? That looked like an injury … and he _had_ stayed the night when he brought Kala home. Yet another line of thought to pursue.

…

It should've been a restful few days, Uncle Bruce and the boys leaving Kala mostly to her own devices and the Birds' patrols being much quieter than the Bats', but that wasn't quite how it turned out. The nights were fine, but the days suddenly got stressful. Her own fault for the phone call to Sebast about that damned photo shoot, and within half an hour, there was Jenna on the other line to remind her, very clearly, that she'd _barely_ been available the whole summer. The whole summer before a very large concert _tour_. If she'd been able to come down and make the final selection herself, then maybe…

Not the first time that she'd pulled this particular tactic, and Kala found herself wishing once again for the days before there had been image consultants, agents, and the like. It had been so much easier when she'd made her own decisions, had planned her own and the boys' schedules. Her band, her vehicle, her rules. Back then, no one would've taken her to task for failing to be able to drop everything while she was technically on leave.

Okay, so the excuse had been bullshit, no actual family crisis currently going on unless she considered her training a hardship from within. That said, Sebast was also the acting head of the band in her absence, so all of the choices should've been fielded to her through him rather than be allowed by someone from without. Chupi should've been given the option to approve the proofs, if she'd been unavailable. Although it was a moot point now, she'd ground out. The pictures were out there in the public domain with no chance at a decision now. Jenna's sarcastic response had ended the conversation with gritted teeth on Kala's part and the indignity of being a virtual prisoner of the label for the following forty-eight hours.

As much as she was loath to admit it, she'd welcomed the fact that Jay had called to push back their return to training and patrol a bit longer. The voicemail he'd left for her had made her smile with his explanation. To hear him tell it, it was making her damn uniform that was causing the problem. Kala knew better; she never doubted that making someone a whole new ensemble would take time, but it likely also had something to do with the fact that time had to be made to heal, not to mention that they had a rematch looming ahead. Just the thought amused her so much that she could take a deep breath and dive back into her real-life dramas.

Long-distance phone calls that lasted for hours catching up to the adjustments for the first few tour stops, appointments to see the costumers once she was back in Metropolis. More papers to sign. Several taped interviews for the concert DVD that was just now being crafted for the performance at the end of the season. Calls to Sebast to make sure that what she was being told was what _he_ had been told. She managed to get in her workouts, but actual patrol with anyone was off the table. Luckily the case with Black Mask was more in the surveillance phase, and they didn't need her for that, but she missed the rooftops. For two days, Kala had left the Manor for the nearest recording studio at nine in the morning, finally dragging herself back in about the time the boys were going out to rounds.

Dick had been the one to stop her on the third day. "You have to take some time for yourself or they'll run you ragged," he told her seriously.

"It's the label, Dick. I do kinda work for them." Kala had sighed when she'd said it; at that point even her dreams were full of contract negotiations and tour plans.

He had a differing opinion. "No, they work for _you._ You're the talent, they're basically the salespeople. C'mon, Kala. We're gonna have a day out."

Before she could reply, her phone rang. Muttering under her breath, Kala answered it. Of _course_ it was Jenna, and of course she had another question. More like fifteen.

She'd barely gotten the first words out of her mouth before Dick calmly plucked the phone from Kala's grip. "Sorry, Kala's not available right now," he said in his smoothest Wayne Heir voice. "Can I take a message?"

"Dick!" Kala hissed, grabbing for her phone, but he avoided her.

"Sure, I'll have her call back. She's got a pretty busy day scheduled, so it might be tomorrow. … What's that? You _do_ know why she's here, don't you? … Who am I? Her boyfriend. … No, you can't speak to her. I will deliver that message though. … Yes, thank you." Dick clicked the 'end' button and grinned. "Well, you have _one_ day free."

"I cannot believe you did that," Kala groaned.

"What, called you in to work?" Dick laughed.

"No, told them you were my boyfriend." She crossed her arms and glowered. "That'll be in the tabloids, you know. She probably heard me say your name. It's bad enough we're already out in public together, but you actually confirmed the rumors. And Jenna knows a publicity gold mine when she hears one. The fans are gonna explode. Get ready for an onslaught of band-fic, Dick."

He looked appropriately shamefaced, except for the twinkle in his eyes. "Well, what's done is done. Let's drag Tim away from the computer and go _do_ something." Dick gave her no option, grabbing her elbow and dragging her downstairs to get Tim.

All things considered, it ended up being a pretty ordinary day. That was, as normal as a day out with two Bats and a Super could be. Or even two Waynes and a rockstar, for that matter. Kala wasn't sure how Dick had gotten _Bruce_ to let the boys have the majority of the day off. Somehow. She had to admit, if any of them could manage it, it was the favorite son.

So far, the afternoon had consisted of running various errands: hitting a few specialty shops to replace things they'd run out of, stocking up on first aid supplies, following Tim on a couple of detours into tech shops. Not that she could complain; it'd given her a chance to replace the headphones she'd broken during a workout the week before, no thanks to a sneak-attack from the boys. She almost made them pay for it, but she'd been the one to let her guard down. That said, she'd glared at them both while she handed over her card. And, as expected, neither did more than smirk.

Finally, about mid-afternoon, they landed in a diner for a late lunch. The mood had been light most of the day so far, all laughter and more than a little friendly snark, but Kala was about halfway through her bacon cheese fries when she caught the look on Dick's face.

Oh, that didn't bode well. Intensity wasn't exactly Dick's style out of uniform and it was clear he was thinking pretty deeply about something. At the same time, she realized that Tim was making a concentrated effort to eye the diner's goings-on through the open window of the inner kitchen. She felt a little thread of unease then, none of this matching the festive mood that had been in effect all day. _Uh-huh. Something's up. I should've known._ Smirking, she took a pull of her soda and popped another fry into her mouth. Might as well just get it out there. "You know, from the way you two are acting all of a sudden, you'd think you got me out here under false pretenses."

Dick actually tried to pull off an innocent look, his eyebrows rising as he pointed to his chest. "Who, me?"

Kala scoffed, shaking her head at him. Ah, the signature Grayson charm was turned up on high. Another hint. Time for her to turn up her own. "Don't even try it. No, I mean the both of you. This is a conspiracy, I can tell – you two have been ganging up on me in training often enough. So you might as well spill it. What's the deal?"

Tim looked skeptical at that, giving his older brother an arch look, and Dick looked apologetic. "Actually I just brought Tim along so you wouldn't punch me. Although he knows a bit about what I wanted to talk to you about, too. And he needs to get out more."

Scowling, Tim let that go, but he didn't look surprised. That was when Kala knew something was up for sure.

"Well…" Dick started, dragging a fry through the puddle of ketchup on his plate absently. "I just wanted to make sure things are okay. You know. With Jay. He can be kind of intense."

Wait a minute. She had a feeling she knew where this was going. Again. "Intense? Richard Grayson, does this have anything to do with a discussion we had earlier in the week?" she repeated with a raised brow.

"Well, you were pretty worn out when you got in the other night." The comment was tossed off lightly. A little _too_ lightly.

It took a moment for the statement to sink in, and Kala couldn't help but gape at him when she realized what he was talking about. She was sure they had no idea about that night at the warehouse, the ambush they'd all but walked into, the stitches Jay had sewn into her arm afterward. Or the fact that Jay had brought her home and practically tucked her into bed.

Barely schooling her surprise, she scowled. "D, we already had this conversation. You worry too much. The sunbath took care of me being worn down, and I'm getting better every day. So much so that I have a few days off to patrol with the Birds. And Jay shifted our training focus, anyway – less hand to hand, more advanced combat. He thought he'd teach me how to shoot, poor thing." A little snarky grin curved her lip at the memory. "The big brother concern is sweet, and I miss you guys too, but trust me, we're fine."

Trading another look, Dick and Tim both sat forward conspiratorially.

"That wasn't exactly what I meant," Dick said, looking her square in the eyes now as he pushed his plate away and folded his hands on the table. "You guys were flirting pretty hard the other day at breakfast."

They _what_ _?_ There was no way Dick could've known about her and Jay's little discussion in the hallway. Unless he was checking the surveillance tapes. Which would be prying. Kala knew her expression was stormy when she cut her eyes at him. "Dick, I was threatening to kill him! Repeatedly. How can that possibly be misconstrued as flirting?"

"That's flirting for Jay," Tim put in dryly. Kala had to fight the urge to beat her head against a wall.

Dick, however, just said, "He noticed you, and you noticed him noticing you. And … I know my brother."

Oh, dammit. The idea that she'd been doubly caught struck Kala in the chest, stealing her breath for a moment and sending heat up the sides of her face. As if things weren't getting complicated enough. What the hell gave them any right to police who she _flirted_ with, especially in light of the fact that they'd just started? As far as she knew, there wasn't any Bat protocol for interpersonal relations outside of 'how to intimidate an opponent'. And for _Dick_ of all people to bring this up…

"You're reading more into this than is there, Richard, _"_ she finally shot back, feeling suddenly defensive with Tim watching her pointedly. God, how did she just know who the main instigator was with this? Tim might not have arranged today's outing, but the concern being aired was as much his as Dick's. It hadn't been something that they'd discussed, but the disapproval was there just the same. She gave her twin's best friend a hard glare. "In case it escaped you both, I was in a good mood from finally getting some sun, almost high on sunlight in fact, and when I'm in a good mood, I flirt. Without thinking about it. With whoever is close by. As if neither of you do that?" she finished, firing the last barb right at Dick. That was something that they both had in common and he knew it. _I expect this out of Jase, but not you_ , the look she shot him said.

"Well, yeah," Dick replied, seemingly unable to stop the grin that moved over his face. "Of course I do. It's what I do best," he added with a wink that made Kala roll her eyes. _Typical. It's such a reflex with him sometimes._ But a tiny smile curved her lips. "But, Kala, this isn't _me_ we're talking about. It's Jay. And when Jay wants something—"

Tim cut him off quickly, "Jay doesn't flirt unless he's going in for the kill."

' _Going in for the kill'? Jesus, Tim, really?_ That made it abundantly clear where the boys were going with this. So much for her and Jay being subtle. God forbid that they enjoy each other's company. "Where the hell is this coming from, guys? Last I checked, you were worried about him _actually_ trying to kill me, now you're worried about him trying to sleep with me. Do you boys only have two settings or something?"

"Don't deflect, we both know how to do that too," Dick said, getting serious now. "He's a good-looking man. Don't tell me you haven't noticed, because I know you have. And he's definitely noticed you, more now that he's not trying to chase you out of the city."

Kala gritted her teeth. "Yeah, I noticed you're ridiculously pretty, too. You and I flirt all day. Nobody's warning me off _you_ – well, except Helena. Anyway, the point is I haven't jumped _you_ , what makes you decide you need to have a freakin' _intervention_ over Jay?"

"If Jay wants something," Dick went on, "he gets it. Eventually, somehow, possibly out of sheer persistence, he gets girls who say they're totally not interested in him."

Did he just…? Both brows raised in disbelief, she just stared at them for a minute. A full minute. Good God, what did they think she was, a brainless toy for them to use in a tug-of-war? Talk about getting the cart before the horse. She'd _just_ started to think she might actually be interested in the little flares of humanity Jay was starting to show, but these two acted like her seduction was _fait accompli_. Time to put the brakes on this. "Are—are you trying to tell me you think Red's gonna take advantage of poor innocent little me? Tim, come on, give me a break. Even if Dick doesn't know better about me and capes, you do," she said with a bark of a laugh. "You've gotta be kidding me. _Jay?_ Treats-me like-a-kid-sister Jay? She's-a-lightweight Jay? Over a magazine shoot? What world are you living in? Get real."

The boys just blinked at her for a moment as she drank some more of her soda and ate a few more fries, chewing fast to cover her irritation with them.

Finally, Tim piped up again. "Look, we know you know he's bad news. Jason would have a fit if he even had a clue that Jay was being allowed around you. No matter how much progress he's made, he still isn't stable."

But that was where Kala drew the line. Knowing what she knew, that just tore it. They should both know better. "He isn't _stable? Really?_ When he's giving you his intel and training me for you? Good to know, _"_ she spat back, bristling at the reflections of her own ghosts. It hit her again exactly what it must take for Jay to walk into the Manor every time, knowing the reception he'd receive. That put his showing up at breakfast in a completely different light. "No, he wasn't right back then. It also wasn't even his fault. You _both_ know that. _Bruce_ knows that. Babs has her eye on him. Bruce has been trying to forgive and forget, but it's clear just how far that extends."

With that, she stood to leave. If they were just gonna rag on Jay for their entire meal, she might as well head back to the Manor and try to get in a workout. Kala found herself wishing that Jay hadn't called off their patrol for tonight, too. The urge to hit something was irresistible. God, she should've known better, the rivalries between them making it necessary to try to make her choose sides. "Sorry, guys, I'm not doing this. All three of us know what's going on here and I'm not going to be a party to it. Regardless of which way any feelings lie, I _do_ respect the guy, and Dick, you of all people ought to know that I understand where he's coming from. You were there with him from the start."

"Wait," Dick said hastily. "Hang on. Tim didn't mean that."

"Yes, I did," Tim put in.

"Shut up. Kala, _wait_ , I was just trying—"

But whatever else he meant to say was forestalled by Kala dropping a bill on the table to cover her meal. "No. Just no, Dick. It's done. You've said enough for one day." And on that note she stormed out, already planning to call Jenna back while she was righteously annoyed.

…

For one day, but Dick hadn't said enough. Not nearly. After giving Tim a stern lecture about when to keep quiet, Dick brought him along to corner Kala again the next morning after breakfast. She made it as far as the main living room before Dick tried his gambit. "Can we talk?" he asked.

Kala folded her arms and stared at him, her eyes flashing fire. Yeah, still pissed. She'd made herself scarce after their discussion in the diner. The sounds of her working out had echoed late into the night downstairs and she'd left the house afterward. He had the feeling she'd only been walking the grounds, but he hadn't pushed his luck by checking up on her in more detail.

And now she was watching him as wary as a cat. Oh yeah, she was still angry at him. "Honestly? I really can't, if it's over what I think it is. But I'll do it, if you're willing to listen as much as talk. No repeat of yesterday afternoon."

"I promise I am. Truly," Dick said hurriedly. "And listen, Kala, I'm not trying to trash Jay. Both of us are just worried for you, we know more than you do."

"Watching him tear apart your city and some of your friends will do that to you," Tim said quietly. "Just because _I'm_ willing to work with him, doesn't mean I want to see him take anyone else down."

Narrow eyes trained on them both, she lifted her chin. "I get that, Tim. But a lot has happened since then. You get one more shot. You want to make your case, make it. Just to be clear, I'm not choosing sides. I have to work with all of you, so let's get on with whatever dire warning you're determined to pass on," she said tartly, arms still crossed over her chest as she dropped onto a couch.

Dick smiled softly at her, blinking a few times, and took a deep breath as he and Tim sat down across from her. Where to start … well, the beginning was the best place. "Jay doesn't exactly have the greatest track record with women. He didn't date much before he went … missing."

Kala's reply was as quick as it was unexpected, that flare of challenge bright in her hazel eyes. "Don't bother mincing words, Dick. I've already done my research, so the shock value isn't going to be what you want. We also know that I'm not exactly a stranger to the dark side of this life, don't we?"

At that, Dick looked at Tim and saw an expression of surprise that matched his own. "He … he told you?" Dick said.

She nodded, not quite hiding her smirk. "Yeah. Surprise, surprise, he trusted me enough to talk about it. Left a few details out, but I managed to fill in a few blanks with the help of a few sources," she finished.

Dick wondered just how much Kala knew, and decided not to bother adding more just now. "Then, you know he wasn't in a good place when he came back."

"Yep. He was pretty much on a one-man crusade to clean this town up. Like I said before, I was here for a little of it. Remember, I was the one that stopped Stephanie from confronting him when Tim was laid up." Another significant look at both of them then, deeply serious and firm in her convictions. "That said, I've been training with him for weeks now and I have yet to see him start foaming at the mouth or start shooting invisible enemies. He may not have the best temper and yeah, he can be a first-class bastard if he has it in his head to be, but he's not the man he was back then.

"He's not a mad-dog killer. Hell, from what I've observed, he's been trying to show you guys that for a while now. I've only been here for a couple of months or so; before he showed up that night, I hadn't heard anything about him even being back in the city. There hasn't been a high body count that can be attributed to him in that time. He's working his demons out. If I can see that, why the hell can't you?" Her tone was as challenging as the look in her eyes.

Tim just frowned. Dick muttered a few choice words in Romany under his breath; he rarely swore in English, but some frustrations needed a curse or two. A couple weeks ago Kala had been ready to kick Jay into orbit, and now she was _defending_ him. Vigorously. It boded ill that her opinion had changed so much, so fast. "Kala, look, I _know_ he's trying to claw his way back up onto the ledge. I've seen that. I'm glad about it – I want him back, too. But recovering isn't the same as recovered. And right now he's in a precarious position."

Her dark brow arched up. "He's back in the city _how_ long?"

Dick gave a little groan of frustration. "I just don't think this whole flirting thing is a good idea. For either of you. And I have reasons for that, Kala. Trust me."

Her expression said she didn't. "What kind of reasons?"

Dick shook his head at that. He was going to have to tell her after all, which he really should've expected. This was Kala. She didn't like to take anyone's word for it. Especially not when she'd decided that he completely doubted Jay. That was the worst of it—Dick had hope for his brother. But it was hope, not certainty. "See … Jay's dated some since he's been back, but it hasn't exactly worked out. I mean, he was seeing Rose Wilson for a while—"

"After she lost the eye," Tim cut in.

That obviously threw Kala for a loop. "Jay dated Ravager? And right after the whole brainwashing business with her dad? Wow. That … yeah. Oookay."

"If you call that dating," Tim muttered, and Dick kicked his ankle lightly.

"Yeah, after all that," Dick agreed. He knew he was butting in, overstepping his bounds, and he knew Jay was gonna be pissed. But some of this needed to be said, and Kala had been out of the loop long enough that she couldn't find out any other way than being told about it all. Still, it felt a bit like betrayal.

But what he was doing needed to be done. And not just for Kala. Jay … given his recent history, Jay was _not_ ready to get seriously involved with someone like Kala. So in a way it was a favor to him.

Collecting his thoughts, Dick continued, "Anyway, things went bad. As in, she nearly wiped out a handful of Titans who were trying to keep her from putting her sword through her own chest. Rose has always been a handful, she really can't be anything else considering who her father is, but after she and Jay broke up she went completely off the rails."

He could see Kala chewing it over. Finally she winced, and said, "But that can't be all Jay's fault. From what I heard from Jason about the incident at Titans Tower, there were a few other factors in her life at the time that didn't include her love life. Rose has been battling demons for years. But then, when you consider her family, can you really blame her for the mental garbage she's been left to deal with?"

"Not really," Tim admitted. "She was trying to get it together, though, and _something_ spun her out of balance again. Not that I think Jay _meant_ to hurt her, but he's not exactly a stabilizing influence. He was just more than Rose could handle at the time—and _she_ was more than _he_ could handle."

"And then there was Donna," Dick said with a heavy sigh. Despite his best intentions, the statement was so loaded with pent-up aggression that it was a miracle he didn't spontaneously combust with the heat of it.

Kala narrowed her eyes, not bothering to hide the fact that he'd struck a nerve. He'd known this would happen as soon as her name was mentioned. They'd managed to avoid any mention of the Amazon the entire time Kala had been in Gotham, and now he had to introduce his best friend into the middle of an already unwelcome conversation. And he _knew_ half the reason Kala was here this summer was to refute Donna's accusation that she was a half-trained liability.

Dick knew why Donna felt that way. She despised the notion of anything being out of control, for very good reason. It was right there in Terry Long's autopsy report: 'lost control of the vehicle'. No wonder maintaining control was so important to Donna, and no wonder that someone like Kala, who flew on intuition and reflex, drove her nuts.

Then Kala seemed to realize what he'd just said, and if the revelation of Rose and Jay had thrown her for a loop, this one might as well have kicked her into the stratosphere. Yep, it was all there in her face. Hazel eyes wide and distrustful, Kala stared at him. "Donna?" she said, her voice flat-lining. "As in Donna _Troy?"_

He took a deep breath. This wasn't going to be good, not at all, and Dick reminded himself that it all had to be worth it in the end.

…

Kala didn't know why she hadn't seen this coming. Most likely because dragging out their brother's relationship resume was the last thing she'd expected. As awkward as it made her feel to hear it, she had to admit that having this related to her reminded her just how far outside of the community she'd been. How sheltered. In that time, she'd worked with Rose, fought beside her a few times. Her twin had never once even mentioned it in passing when Ravager had been having her breakdown. Just that he'd been worried about her.

And this about Donna? Just floored her. The thought was absurd. _Jay_ had been involved with perfect Titans princess Donna, who sighed rainbows and butterflies. Anything she might or might not feel about Jay aside, this was like bitterest gall on her tongue. Wasn't it bad enough to have been utterly humiliated by the damn Amazon in front of everyone important of her generation, that she'd found herself charmed by Dick and found herself loving him to death even if he was best friends with a hypocrite? Now, after all of this, to find out that her trainer was Donna's ex? Didn't that trump all?

Kala found herself struggling to sort out her emotions. Beyond a distinct sting of betrayal, that was. Just how much did Jason Todd know about that little conversation, she found herself wondering. The crushing embarrassment came back to her then, knowing her cheeks were burning. Just the thought that it was all interconnected made her nauseous. And she just hated herself more for actually caring. "So you're trying to tell me that the Princess of the Titans came down to earth? For a fling with the infamous Red Hood? Just how long were you going to sit on that little tidbit of information? Guess telling me before now would've ruined the surprise." Everything in her was seething, her gut roiling, and she just couldn't make up her mind what was worse.

Dick narrowed his eyes at her in return, and through her mental haze of … of—she was _not_ about to call it jealousy, dammit—whatever it was, she knew he was onto her. Time to turn to turn this around, then. Yes, the coincidence made her want to throw up in her mouth. As much as she wanted to grit her teeth, she could do exactly jack about the past and she was already too involved in this situation to cry 'fuck it' and walk out. She was bigger than that, better than that. Donna didn't get to win.

"They dated for a little while, if you could call it that," he answered after a long moment of scrutiny, under which Kala forced herself not to squirm involuntarily. It was a struggle. So was not feeling stupid for letting this get to her in the first place.

"Two months, one week, and three days," Tim clarified, ever so helpfully. And that just set her teeth on edge.

"Yeah, that," Dick nodded. But he rubbed his chin for a second, looking like he was considering his words carefully. "You have to understand, Jay had only been back for a bit under two years. He was still fighting the family. Still trying to control the gangs. Still killing. A lot, actually. And then he disappeared, him and Donna both. Nobody's ever dragged it out of either of them where they went, but when they got back a few weeks later, they were an item. Pretty serious, from what little Donna's said.

"Anyway, for a while, things seemed okay, which was odd, considering," he said with what looked like a stifled expression of disgust on his face. "But then everything went straight to hell. The way I understand it, Jay went back to doing what he'd been doing, and Donna … well, Donna got out," he finished, shrugging. "She won't tell me what all happened, but it sounded to me like Jay had lost his mind again."

Kala stared at him skeptically at the 'again', not at all believing it for so much as a second. For one, Dick was naturally inclined to be biased where his best friend was concerned, especially considering the strained relationship between the boys. And God only knew what Donna had told him. From Kala's standpoint, Princess Sparkle-Hair just couldn't handle the hurricane that was Jay. The reality was that he'd been through hell—but it wasn't as if Donna hadn't been around the hero block a time or two. So, why had she run? The answer was easy: Troy was a control-freak and there was nothing restrained about Jay.

Unwittingly, she remembered with a loathsome twist in her chest just how much of a fit Donna could throw. The stinging reprimand the Amazon had given her a few months ago still sat fresh in her mind. The sharp retort about her 'dangerous lack of training' and how being Superman's daughter would only get her so far had been way over the line, when it was _Kala_ who had swooped in to save the Titans' mission from going sideways. Hell, Donna hadn't even officially been a part of that field trip, from what Jason had told her later; she'd only dropped in halfway through, and still hadn't managed to right the mess that'd been made.

Of course, the reminder that her twin was already fully established and respected within the ranks had only made it worse. Being a full-time hero had never been an option with Kala's past and she'd only been letting herself help where and when they really needed her. It had been a miracle that she was able to get clear of the band long enough to get there in time. Being dressed-down in front of the assembled group afterward, and by one of the founding Titans no less, had left her reeling. The looks her peers had given her then, ranging from horrified embarrassment and contemptuous amusement, were the icing on the cake. Cassie had looked almost sick, Jason pained. Once away, she'd been physically ill with humiliation. So yeah, no love lost there. Obviously this little event had also never been mentioned to Dick, or else he'd know better.

But Kala was drawn out of her little side trip down memory lane by the wave of fingers in front of her face. "Jeez, this really must piss you off," Dick laughed, looking a little spooked by the way she'd gone off into her own thoughts. She would've bitten his head off for that laugh – but he wasn't laughing _at_ her. Even as furious as she was, she could see that he was trying to defuse the situation.

And Dick, of all of them, knew why it was a bad idea to push Kala's temper to red-line.

Shaking herself, Kala drew in a deep breath and schooled her expression, trying her damnedest to bring it all down to neutral. Which was a joke. She could feel the trapped expression on her face. It floored her both how much she knew about Jay and just how little. It also made her feel like an idiot. How in God's name did that even make sense, when he'd been flirting his ass off with her, Donna's equal in powers and complete opposite in personality? And what did that say about her mixed emotions?

Hating to do it, she forced herself to change tactics. Being thrown a curveball like that was no reason not to defend her trainer, even if it weirded her the hell out. "I'll be fine. I just didn't know about Donna, that's all," she said evenly. "After what the Joker did to him, it shouldn't have been a surprise if he lost his way again, Dick. None of us were there for what happened between them either, so you don't know Jay's side of things. Maybe there was more than one catalyst in that, don't you think? There are always two sides." Kala gave Dick a telling look at that. _I wonder exactly what she told him. Especially with the way he bristles over it_.

"And then there's what Uncle Bruce did, or _didn't_ do, for that matter. You have to consider that. I mean, he was in a coma for a _year and half_ and none of you figured out where he was. The best detective in the world is your father figure, trained you all in his image, and _no one_ ever figured out Jay was lying in a hospital? What do you think that would do to you, Dick? Wouldn't that make you a little crazy, too?"

The look she saw pass over Dick's face hurt, confirming the guilt she'd been sure he felt over it, but she wasn't about to acknowledge it. It had clearly been too long since someone had reminded them of exactly what their brother had been through. The shame it caused them wouldn't change the facts, but those forced to occasionally remember the past sure as hell wouldn't make the same mistakes again. She gave a bitter little smile; wasn't that something she knew better than most?

But pointing fingers at each other wasn't what this was about. It also wasn't about her past and the need to defend Jay because of similarities. With a deep breath, Kala forced herself to settle and smooth out her upset. The boys had pulled her aside because they didn't know her eyes were already open to the situation. Dick and Tim actually cared enough that they were trying to protect her from what they perceived as a potential threat to her, the past giving them what they saw as a good reason to worry. With a cooler head, she could see why they'd staged this little intervention. As usual, they were only seeing one side of the story, which wasn't their fault in her case. It wasn't fair to be angry with them.

Especially when she considered the thoughts that had been floating around in her head lately. Even more when she knew in her heart of hearts that they had reason to worry. Jay was taking up more of her interest than he really should be, considering she'd come to Gotham to get away from drama. It was all too much to tangle with right now. The dynamics of this family were so completely different from her own; even at their most discombobulated, the Lane-Kents couldn't match the Wayne clan's drama. _Bless Alfred for staying all this time._

But it was time to mend fences, even if she still didn't know exactly how she felt about all this. _Let the guards down, smile, take Dick's hand to reassure him. Acknowledge Tim with an exasperated sigh. Make a joke of it. Hit the reset button and let Dick think you're letting it go. You can process it all later._ "Then again, Jay being literally 'batshit insane' might just explain his fairly abysmal taste in women, huh?" she snarked, smirking at him. There would be one way to break the tone of the current conversation, by turning it on its head. As much as it made her want to blush in her current tangle of emotions. One dark brow arched as she drawled out with affected jadedness, "But I mean, Jay has his pluses. Good thing those all-night training sessions have been doing something for changing my opinion of him. I mean, as long as he doesn't talk, we're fine…"

Dick just gaped at her, Tim frowning as his left eye seemed to twitch.

Time stretched out, as Kala thought that maybe this hadn't been the right tactic after all. Jeez, if they were gonna be this hardcore about warning her off of Jay, then—

She barely dodged the pillow that Tim threw at her then, both of the boys cracking up and setting her off, finally, as the tension broke, much to Kala's relief.

"You're nuts, K, you know that?" Dick prodded her, swatting her arm as he caught his breath, his entire demeanor changed and relaxed at last.

 _Oh thank God. I couldn't breathe for a second there._ The last thing she wanted was the Brothers Wayne playing stalker while she figured out this situation with Jay. "Now that you mention it, I've been told that a time or two," she shot back, grinning impishly at them both. "But seriously, you guys can dial it back a few notches. The two of us are fine these days, for a given value of fine. We've even managed not to bruise each other for the last week or so. And, really, especially with the powers back, I can take care of myself. When we rematch, he won't know what hit him."

Tim raised a hand, his mouth opening to make a point using the opening she had left him, and Kala tossed the pillow back at him. "Shut your face, Timothy Drake. You know what I mean."

"Okay, okay," Tim conceded as Dick cracked up again.

How had she not realized the two of them had become hyper-protective? Smiling, Kala shook her head at them both with an exasperated sigh, arms crossed as she leaned back on the sofa. "You two are a lost cause. I promise that I can take care of myself. Really. No joke. Even without the powers, I was capable of blocking out any overly-hate-angsting behavior from Red."

"All right," Dick said after a moment, composing himself again. "We just want to make sure you don't go into anything blind, you know? Training is one thing, but the Jason Todd charm is nigh irresistible. Just, don't go getting yourself hurt or anything. At the very least, I don't think any of us want Big Blue to bring the hammer down on Gotham. If your dad were to ever do it, it'd be to flatten Jay."

At that, Kala could only roll her eyes. Oh yeah, as if she hadn't heard _that_ one before. Or at least, versions of it that all equaled the same thing. 'I don't want your dad to kill me', 'Kala, your dad's eyes look like they just went red, think I'll just study at home by myself,' and the ever popular, 'Kala, your mom has a gun, and I value my boy parts.' But most of those had happened _years_ ago. And without any of them having a clue what her family was truly capable of. Ah, memories. Was it any wonder that she rarely brought anyone home with her, even if their fears were far from the reality?

"Give me a break, you guys," she said with a sigh, shaking her head and running a hand through her hair. "You guys are overreacting to something that hasn't even _happened_ yet and blowing that possibility _way_ out of proportion. We're nowhere near Defcon Blue. And I'm grown, if you hadn't noticed," she added, sitting a little straighter to emphasize the point. "If my honor needs avenging, _I'll_ be one coming to collect, not my dad. Not that there's anything for you to mother-hen over. Everyone just relax. I promise that my eyes are open, okay?"

Dick sighed. "All right, but don't say we didn't warn you, 'kay?"

"Consider it done. Little Red Riding Hood is totally warned about the Big Bad Wolf in the motorcycle helmet. Not only that, she also has a copy of his rap-sheet and a full description. So can we please change the subject now?"

Tim and Dick shared another look, one that said they believed her … but that neither of them were completely sanguine about the whole situation. Kala narrowed her eyes. And to think Jase had worried she wouldn't be adequately over-protected and fussed over during her summer … they were almost worse than he was.

"All right," Dick finally relented. He gave her that smile she couldn't help returning, the one with the dimples that had probably charmed far more women than she wanted to think about. At least the interrogation was finally over, and Kala sighed with relief as the boys turned the talk to safer subjects.

Sometime later, she'd find out the _rest_ of the story regarding Jay and Donna Troy. Kala was pretty sure she didn't want to know, but she was too much her mother's daughter not to follow up on a lead like that.


	24. Act Three: Strangeness and Charm

Hey, all! Just popping in with an author's note to say that we hope everyone is enjoying the story so far and we are grateful for every single one of you reading! Well, that and to tell you that we're going to need to take a brief break and don't panic. We have vacation coming up the 27th, which generally means extreme insanity at both of our jobs, so we're going to take this week off to breathe while we prepare our jobs for ten days of well-deserved rest for us and utter chaos for them (leadership roles in shipping this time of years? UGH!). That said, we will be posting Halloween Week (yes, that second capital was on purpose) and, as long-timers know, good things always happen around here when we get time off. All things considered, we figured this was a good place to leave you until we can get back. Once again, we love and appreciate all of you. Saavikam, love, once again, we couldn't have done this without you. And now, on with the show!

* * *

Dick decided to do a little early training, and Tim joined him. At first they sparred silently except for measured breath, Dick's escrima sticks against Tim's bō staff. Once they were loosened up, Dick grinned, and tossed the sticks to his little brother, catching the staff in return. Having a favorite weapon was no excuse for neglecting other styles; weapons broke or got taken away, and knowing how to use whatever came to hand could be the difference between life and death.

Tim managed a good strike to the ribs that Dick wasn't quite fast enough to block, so he tried sweeping Tim's feet with the staff. That just got him another strike on the shoulder. "Jeez, Tim," Dick laughed, even as he pulled off a spin that cracked their weapons together sharply. "You could give me a point here and there, I won't tell anyone."

"Never give away an advantage," Tim replied, quoting Bruce.

"Unless doing so wins you a more valuable objective," Dick finished.

They were both very highly trained, and very experienced, so a match like this almost always ended in a draw. Eventually they headed off to the showers.

On the way there, Tim caught his gaze and gave him a stern look. "Do you think Kala will take us seriously?"

 _Probably not,_ was Dick's assessment, though he didn't say so immediately. She'd still been more pissed off than anything, and he couldn't help wincing at the thought of all the ways this could go wrong. Jay deserved something positive and hopeful in his life, when he thought about it from Jay's angle he could only be happy his troubled middle brother was interested in someone. That it was someone _good_ , someone who was _not_ Donna, was even better.

Looking at it from Kala's angle, though, it was bad news. The very last thing _she_ needed was to get tangled up with a guy who had as many issues as Jay. Dick knew about Nevada, knew that Kala wasn't really made of sweetness and sunlight the way most people thought. Jay could bring out the worst in her.

But they were both adults, and the more he and Tim tried to dissuade Kala, the more likely she was to completely tune them out. And, from what he knew of her, end up sneaking around with Jay out of pure defiance.

"We did the best we could," he told Tim, clapping him on the shoulder. "It's really up to her. She can't say she wasn't warned."

"If he screws this up somehow, I'm not going to be around when Jason hears about it," Tim said pessimistically. "I'll go on a Caribbean cruise or something until _that_ settles out."

The idea of Tim, who had been building his own computers since he was eleven, going on a _cruise_ , was enough to get Dick laughing again.

…

It was later that night when the text came through, after dinner and before she'd been left alone long enough to really digest this afternoon's disclosures. Kala had made up her mind to head down to the Cave's training area as soon as her meal settled and work out this tangled ball of she-wasn't-sure-what. All of it swirled around in her head, forcibly ignored and thrown in a corner to wait for a few solitary minutes out of the keen gaze of both Robin One and Robin Three.

Like it or not, it was Robin Two and all the complexities that came with him that loomed in her thoughts. Worse, he wouldn't go away no matter how hard she hit the heavy bag, no matter how much she concentrated on the acrobatics Dick had taught her to mask her use of flight, how brutally she tried to shove him away. Kala wasn't sure what to make of what the boys had told her. All she knew was that she felt as if the man she'd been getting to know might not be the man she'd thought him to be after all.

And none of it would've stuck in her craw if it hadn't been for the truth bomb about Troy. It would be easier if it was just something like jealousy. Her cheeks flushed again, the memory of her dressing-down echoing for the second time that day. Kala had never felt so wretchedly shamed, barring a few of her lectures from the Giant Floating Head. And knowing that Jay had been closely associated with her would've left enough of a bad taste, but knowing that he'd likely had that incident related to him as pillow-talk, well, _that_ turned her stomach. Thinking back on it, his reception that first night made more sense, along with his scathing comment about ending up in the river.

And he'd never said a word about it. Never even hinted that he knew about that in the slightest.

But why did that make her so angry? So hurt by the realization? Was it just because he'd maybe walked into this with a bias or because she actually cared about his opinion of her? If she were honest, it might just be more of one than the other.

 _This is counterproductive. There's no point in dwelling on this. He's your trainer for the summer, even if you two were actually acting like idiot teenagers the other day. After this, what's it going to matter what he thinks of you? Except gratitude for not having your ass handed to you, what's it going to matter to you? Not matter how ridiculously you two were playing, no matter if there is tension, it doesn't matter. When the summer's over, you got home. That's it. And he has so much going on with him that he'll probably forget you the minute you leave Gotham. Grow up, Supergirl. Get your head in the game._

Somehow that little pep-talk had the opposite effect she was hoping for, uncomfortable and confused by just how much the thought hurt. And irritated with herself for that. Kala furrowed her brow, shaking her head to clear it. Enough; that was crazy and she was being a child about this.

Landing gracefully on the mat, Kala sprinted toward the pair of rings suspended from the roof before springing into the air and catching them securely. She was so perfectly focused on this that she wasn't even aware of when she'd steadied herself with pure strength and turned through three revolutions, only to swing out and land like a cat. She knew she was trying to outrun her mind and also that it was a losing battle. But she'd suddenly found herself on dangerous ground; she'd battle it away as long as she could.

It was only after she'd run through all of the katas she'd been taught by both Bruce and Jay that Kala was willing to admit defeat. A shower and bed were the only things on her mind right now. Maybe, if she was lucky, she'd feel like dealing with this tomorrow.

Limbs sore, her blood up, Kala was picking up her towel to hit the showers when she felt the buzz of a message coming in through the towel. No ringtone, text message then. She'd carried it down here in the event that her parents called or Elise, who had left a voicemail earlier with a vague message asking her to call when she could. The thought of her family was a relief and she glanced at the screen.

 _K, designs done, got a surprise for you._

 _My place, any time._

 _J_

That cut through her tired haze like a blast of frozen air. The nervous flutter in her stomach had come back. There was still supposed to be time to figure this out before she had to face him. Gritting her teeth, Kala sucked in an infuriated breath, letting it out in a huff. Of course. He _would_ finish it now, when she'd look like an ungrateful bitch if she threw something at his head as soon as she saw him. _Dammit, someone up there really hates me._ _ **Really**_ _hates me._

And she hated herself for being incapable of making a decision about all of this. Jay had been training her, not holding back, teaching her what he knew. He'd taken care of her when they'd been ambushed. He'd brought her up and put her to bed, even with popped stitches. Hell, he was making a _uniform_ for her.

Even if he'd known all of it, every shameful thing, from the beginning, even if he had strange tastes in women, she owed him the benefit of the doubt. Jay deserved it. Kala just hoped she was wrong, that he hadn't known about her dressing-down, and that part of his motivation in training her wasn't _pity_.

Biting her lip, she paused a long moment looking at his text before replying. Maybe she should've waited, but better now before she had more time to second guess and wind herself up worse. If she could face him now, maybe it wouldn't poison the rest of their time together. Pulling the elastic out of her hair, she ran her fingers through it as she headed up to get ready to head out to Jay's, already reinforcing her guard.

…

Apparently Kala was looking forward to this almost as much as Jay was, because she texted him right back that she was on her way and turned up at his private garage within fifteen minutes. He met her with a grin and ushered her in, closing the loudly grinding door behind her. "That was fast," he greeted her, teasing right off the bat.

Kala hesitated a moment before sticking her tongue out at him, and her laugh sounded just a bit forced. Jay, being well-attuned to the moods of his opponents and therefore also the moods of his allies, watched her carefully as she went to the stairs leading down to the bunker. "They don't call me Blur for nothing. I understand you have something for me?"

Jay kept his tone light. If something was up and she was gonna try to play it off, he'd let her think he bought it. For now. "Right down to business, huh? Come on," he said, starting down the stairs and flipping on the light switch as he passed it so the bunker would be well-lit for Kala's surprise.

Following him, she stopped dead at the bottom of the stairs when she saw what waited for her on a heavy-duty wooden hanger, hung from a stand settled in the middle of the small space.

"Already?" she asked, her eyes going wide at seeing that he'd gone a lot further than just the preliminary designs. "Now who's fast?" she quipped, turning his teasing on its head with a twinkle of mirth in her eyes.

"Only when I need to be," he shot back, letting his meaning linger between them as he watched a faint blush try to move up her cheeks. And yet her jaw tightened, prompting him to ask, "Hey, K. What's going on?"

She shrugged it off. "I've been dealing with the label for a couple days. Fallout from _GQ_ ; if I wanna bitch about the pictures, I have to take a more active role in promos. That, and finding out a couple things I didn't wanna know."

He nodded; her day job was supposed to be her lifelong dream, but it sounded like the label had been giving her more grief than anything else. Fine, then. He could get on to business and let Kala work out her stress in her own time. A little pleasant distraction from the new uniform ought to be useful.

Lifting the prototype from its hanger on the stand, Jay started, "After considering a few design options, this is the one I figured you might like the best. This is just the first mockup, of course. Most of it is high-tensile strength fabric, somewhat resistant to heat, cold, and water, and there's a wire mesh beneath the surface that'll ground out electricity if need be; especially good for a flier that isn't a hundred percent invulnerable. It's the same stuff that's in all our uniforms, really. Nomex, Kevlar, and a bunch of shit so classified it doesn't have a name. It's got plenty of give to it so you can move, but should fit close enough that no one can grab it and hold on."

Kala raised an eyebrow at the last part of his description. "'Close enough'? It's a catsuit, Red."

Jay couldn't stop a smirk. "Not quite." Holding up the suit so she could see the details more closely, he went on, "I know you like the corset thing, so…" He paused at the sardonic smirk she leveled at him. True, she was probably thinking that he liked it, too, and he did. Except that it sucked as costume design. "The bodice here is armored. And it'll cover everything you need covered. No spillage. The elbows, shoulders, and shins are lightly armored too, standard for our suits to give you some protection when you tumble. It's WayneTech's proprietary armored fabric—15 layers of micro-weave. It'll stop an ordinary bullet, though I'd suggest you dodge any explosive rounds headed your way."

She seemed suitably impressed by that as she looked it over, her hands brushing over the thicker material of the body. "I'll try to remember that," Kala said, smirking when she glanced up at him again.

"Best part is it zips down the front—there's a concealed zipper in this reinforced seam down the bodice, and the pull for it hides up here in the neck. You just step in, pull the shoulders up and stick your arms in, then zip it up. Ten seconds, tops. Two, for you."

At that, Kala cocked her head and really _stared_ at the suit, examining it more closely as she turned the sleeves over in her hands and pulled up the legs to give them a once-over. Jay had made it black, of course, no insignia whatsoever, since Bruce hadn't approved the Bat logo for her yet, and she couldn't wear the good old red, yellow, and blue. It did have a touch of color, though. In the right light, the black gleamed faintly bluish, just like Kala's hair. Not enough to ruin the camouflage value, but enough to distract anyone who saw her for more than a second or two. She looked intrigued, probably trying to inspect it on a microscopic level with her quota of enhanced vision, and Jay guessed that was a good thing.

"Go ahead, try it on," he told her.

Kala cut him a sharp look before glancing around the bunker very obviously, then rolled her eyes. It took him a minute to realize what she was looking for. Cover to change behind. Damn. He didn't even have a bathroom down here, she'd have to go up to the lobby for that.

So, she had a point, and yet … he couldn't help smirking at her dilemma. The perfect line came to his lips and he opened his mouth to speak only to startle at the small whirlwind that rose up in front of him. The next thing he knew, her blouse had hit him in the face and she was zipping up the new suit with a wary glance in his direction. Jay had to laugh. "What, you thought I was trying to sneak a peek? Get real. I saw more of you in that _GQ_ issue."

"Bite me, Red," she retorted, but he couldn't tell if it was playful or annoyed. "Next time at least have some kind of shield lying around for a girl to change behind, okay? I'm sure Alfred raised you better than that."

Jay caught himself grinning back, and paced slowly around her as Kala stretched her arms upward, twisting her torso from side to side.

"Hmm. Just about right," she said after a moment. "Just a little uncomfortable in a few spots. It's a little loose in the chest, and a bit tight around the hips." That sarcastic curve to her lips reappeared as her eyes followed his trek, and she added, "Of course, you got the sweet Kryptonian ass down perfect." The droll look on her face practically demanded a smart-ass comeback.

"Yeah, well, I didn't get measurements before I started," Jay replied. "Since you were out running around and not answering your phone, I had to go through the stuff in your room at the Manor to get an idea of size. But you cut the tags off all your clothes so I had to just guess. Got it pretty close, though."

Her hazel eyes widened, then narrowed at the admission that he'd been rifling through her clothes. Exactly the reaction he'd been expecting. "Well, doesn't that just figure," she snarked back. "I assume that included a trip through my lingerie drawer. Did it ever occur to you to just _text_ me?" Her eyebrows arched in a disdainful way, glaring at him. "Hope you didn't feel the need to 'borrow' anything."

As if he'd do that. The only panties he'd kept were ones women had left behind at his place – stealing them out of her drawer was too crass. Her snide suspicions stung, though, and Jay knew only one way to respond. "I only take _legitimate_ souvenirs, K. But since you mention it, I did like that black and purple bra. The one with all the lace? Very nice. Someone has good taste in clothes. An ex-boyfriend buy that for you?"

Her response, sharp and quick, made it pretty clear she was aggravated about something. "I told you the other day, Jay, no ex-boyfriends on the pipeline for a while. No, my ex-girlfriend Marlene got it for my last birthday."

Jay couldn't help the rise of his eyebrows. He remembered her mentioning a girlfriend when they'd been fighting over the magazine, but it really percolated now. "Somehow I thought the girlfriend wasn't that serious. I stand corrected. Superman's baby girl really _does_ play for both teams."

Her gaze rose heavenward then, as she pursed her lips at him in aversion. "I should've known better than to even bring it up," she groused, tugging at the shoulders of the suit. "I had thought that _you_ could at least manage not to be a _boy_ about that. My mistake."

Leaning back against the nearest table and watching the way the suit moved over her body—she was right, it was loose through the chest—Jay couldn't resist taunting her. "It's okay. I mean, every chick does the bi-curious fling with one of her college friends these days. It's fashionable now," he finished with a shrug.

Her narrow glare was full of aggravation, and she gritted her teeth when she shot back, "Fact check, Mr. Todd. First, you should know that Superman's baby girl isn't exactly college-educated. No Brown or Berkeley for me. Thanks to the Giant Floating Head, I know all I need to know about how the world works, thanks much.

"And secondly, try the best part of two years, with my tour manager, who was a bit older than me. The main reason we broke up was because there was a chance that the label had figured it out, not to mention months apart between gigs. It was never going to work full-time. It couldn't."

Kala took a minute then, her arms crossed now, though her expression had gone melancholy. "Anyway, that was back in March, right after the last tour. Got any other snide personal insinuations to make, Jay?"

Now _that_ was a surprise, especially given her father's reputation for white-bread Midwestern values. The annoyance in her voice warned him to change the topic, and for once he decided not to kick the hornets' nest. "So, uh, how's the fit, other than the chest and hips?"

Kala blinked at him, her expression still fraught before she drew a breath and let it out slow. That seemed to even her out again. "Pretty good," she said after a moment. "I've got room to move—I won't know if it's perfect 'til I fight in it." Turning back and forth again, she stretched and twisted to make sure the costume had plenty of give in all directions.

"Perfect reason for a rematch, then," Jay said, walking slowly around her again. The devilish streak in him woke up then, and he continued casually, "I should make some adjustments before we do that, though. I'll need measurements this time."

"Sure," Kala nodded, obviously a veteran of many costume-changes in her chosen profession. "Something more specific than a measuring tape, I hope?"

"I've got calipers and a laser scanner," he confirmed as she turned once more, checking the stretch of one sleeve. "It'll fit like a glove." From behind her, he touched her shoulder lightly. "You're right, you know. The costume you had is the reason I guessed wrong. That duster doesn't follow the curve of your hips, and the corset emphasizes your chest."

He heard her make a small, amused sound when he said it, and just barely caught the way her lip curved up. With that he ran his hand down her back, past her hip, and over the curve of her rear. "I did get the ass _just_ right, though." Jay _did_ always love playing with fire.

It felt like Kala's entire body stiffened when he touched her, her spine straightening with a quick in-drawn breath. Suddenly she was looking over her shoulder at him, hazel eyes startled, cool, yes, but also seeming to be searching for something. As if she wanted to demand some sort of explanation from him. Up until this moment, she'd never given him a look quite like this. Silence fell for a long moment before she broke it with a sigh and a shake of her head. "You can be such a trolling jackass. Knock it off before you get yourself in too deep, Jaybird. So how long before you can get it finished, once we get the measurements? And how long are said measurements gonna take?"

Jay grinned back as she turned, stepping just barely out of his reach. "Hey, like I said, I'm quick when I need to be. Another day should give me enough time to make adjustments, get you some new boots, and finish healing up from my little slice and dice."

A small wince, and Kala nodded slowly, understanding why. "Yeah, that. I don't want to have to explain to Alfred how I busted your stitches beating your ass. But who said I needed new boots? Mine work just fine."

At that, Jay could only shake his head. "I called in a few favors. You need boots made for speed, reinforced and super-durable, something to give you better traction. Wally's gonna bring me the materials. All I need is your shoe size. As for your other measurements, give me five minutes. You don't even have to strip."

"Will wonders ever cease?" she taunted back, a little of that teasing light coming about into her eyes. She leveled a somewhat cool look at him, not quite able to suppress her amusement. "Well, hop to it, then," she ordered. "And try not to be so handsy this time."

"Yes, ma'am," Jay shot back, and with a laugh, he did as he was told. Even kept it strictly professional, though the temptation to provoke that assessing look again was very strong. _Something_ was up with her, and he wanted to nudge her off balance to find out what it was.

Once she was gone, he sat down with a glass of emergency scotch and wondered what the fuck had just happened. He'd gotten to K for a minute there, with his hands on her body, but other than that she seemed almost pissed at him. Excited about the uniform, yet not glad to see him the way she usually was. Like he'd done something personal to get up her nose.

Jay honestly couldn't think of what that could be. Unless Dick had told her about their conversation … but how would _that_ piss her off?

He sipped, and wondered, and ultimately gave it up, figuring he'd find out at the rematch.

…

Kala made sure to get plenty of sun before heading back to the bunker the next afternoon for the new costume and suit-testing-slash-rematch. She might've gone easy on Jay to thank him, but since he'd just _had_ to sneak in that little grope, he was getting his ass kicked today.

And it was absolutely because of the gratuitous grope, _not_ because she was jealous. She had no reason to be jealous. Jay could run around screwing Donna freaking Troy if he wanted to. It wasn't like Kala had anything to be jealous about. He thought of her as a kid, and all of this between them was just the usual flirting that always happened when a guy and a girl worked closely together. He was just trying to see what he could get away with, if he could fluster her. And she was just messing with his mind. After all, she was going to be gone in a couple weeks, so what did it matter? It was completely unfair that she was noticing him now that she knew about his history with Donna.

Never mind that once he'd gotten down to the serious business of exacting measurements, she'd held still and bitten the inside of her cheek at the feel of his hands on her, framing her body. Neck, shoulders, arms, chest, waist, hips, legs, inseam, he'd touched her damn near everywhere. And that was an ordinary occurrence for her. In the last year, with the band prepping for this tour and doing actual videos, she'd been fitted for dozens of costumes. Strangers' hands on her body weren't something Kala even paid attention to anymore. She'd famously _slept_ standing up through the fitting for the burgundy and plum dress she'd worn in _Anything for You,_ exhausted from a long day in the studio the day before.

The problem was, as much as she found herself now wishing he was, Jay wasn't just a stranger. She'd thought that she knew him, had liked to think she'd gotten to know him fairly well. The man wore a helmet _and_ a domino to keep people out of his head, but she had enough x-ray vision to get past them, and from what he'd told her about his past so far, she had a good enough understanding to see how much he kept hidden beneath his metaphorical mask as well. There was no denying that he liked her, at least enough to hurt her if he had to do it to keep someone else from hurting her down the line. She couldn't deny that she'd learned a lot from him, the kinds of things that might save her life or someone else's in the field. Jay had taught her not to glibly rely on her powers to save her. He'd made her actually _work_ at training the way not even Bruce had. Which didn't make what she'd learned any easier to take.

Add to that that he was so damn pretty it was distracting. And she was hating herself for letting herself notice it. That dark hair, always mussed, and those icy blue eyes that damn near hypnotized her when he invaded her space. The face, the body, chiseled to perfection—even if thinking in those terms made her wince and wonder when a romance writer had invaded her brain. And then that snarky flippant attitude that cut across everything else in her history like sharp white wine cleansing her palate. He was _Jay_ , irrepressibly and impossibly Jay. How could she possibly have grown this attached in just over a month? Especially when she'd started out pretty much hating him and was currently still considering it.

Kala remembered the night she broke his nose, wincing. Not one of her finer moments. He'd made her angry, and anger made her vindictive—and careless. Something that she needed to remember at the moment. Jay had been teaching her even then, pushing her to use her powers in new ways, showing her once and for all what a mistake it was to let her heart rule her head, she thought ruefully. Still, Jay hadn't held that against her. After all the snarling at each other, once she'd proven she was for real, not just playing at the hero game, he'd backed her up one hundred percent. From not telling Bruce or anyone else about the pair of them getting sliced and diced, to making her this suit, Jay was being pretty damn supportive.

So maybe he saw her as more than a kid. Still, he was just fooling around. He couldn't be serious, not with his track record and the fact that she was leaving so soon. If she could somehow put aside the fact that he'd been with Donna and likely knew all about her disgrace, Kala could enjoy the attention without making it more than it was. She did it all the time with Sebast, didn't she?

Not that she was all that successful…

Kala shook the thought off before landing at Jay's building, hurrying down to the garage. The grinding metal door opened ahead of her and she strolled in, careful to keep her train of thought from showing in her expression. Jay was waiting for her, grinning in anticipation as he closed the door behind her again. "You're gonna like this," he said confidently, and as before, he turned to lead her down into the bunker, flipping on lights as he went.

"No preliminaries?" she said as she followed him. "Wow, must be something special."

When Kala hit the bottom of the stairs, Jay grinned darkly at her over his shoulder, and pulled a crudely hung improvised curtain aside to unveil her new suit, complete with accessories.

The boots weren't the same stiletto-heeled model every super-vixen tended to wear. No, these were serious boots, with a block heel and some deep tread on the soles. Boots she could run in easily—boots she could _land_ in, even from her top speed, since by her guess there was a quarter-inch of shock-absorbing gel in the sole of each one.

And there were gloves, too. "Kinetic dispersal weave," Jay pointed out. "So when you punch some poor bastard's nose in, it distributes the force and you won't bruise your knuckles even if he's got a really thick skull."

"Should come in handy about ten minutes from now," Kala taunted.

"Well, this won't," he told her, and tossed her a new domino.

It was the same sleek blue-black as her costume, curved elegantly to contour her features, probably aerodynamic, and when she slipped it on, it was a perfect fit. She expected no less considering that he'd measured her face in great detail the other day, too.

"You don't really need the infrared and night vision, but they're there as backup just in case your powers conk out. Better to have it and not need it, than need it and not have it, y'know. The everyday lens is slightly polarized so you don't get sun glare. I figure with your speed, any kind of lenses are good for protecting your eyes from wind sheer."

The mask she'd had before had no protection for her eyes, and he was right, that could be a problem once she broke the sound barrier. This was perfect, the specialized lenses large enough that they'd protect her and allow her a full range of vision. "Let me see how it all looks together," she said, ducking behind the makeshift curtain and pulling it around.

"You're welcome for the changing space, by the way," he called, that teasing note in his voice.

"Jason Todd, perfect gentleman. Who knew?" Kala managed to thrust certain things out of her mind long enough to chuckle a bit before blurring into the costume, boots and gloves and all, and throwing the curtain back to prop her hands on her hips and pose dramatically. "Well?" she asked, giving him a small smirk.

Jay let out a low whistle, crossing his arms over his chest and looking on with obvious appreciation. This time it followed every curve as if it had grown there, and with all the accessories, she looked a lot less sex kitten and a lot more high-tech. Add a trench coat, and the new look was more Matrix than dominatrix. "Looks good," he said, making a slow circle around her as she stepped out of the little changing space. "What do you think?"

She flexed her fingers in the gloves and smiled. It felt _good_ , meant to be, almost a second skin. "I love it."

"Knew you would. It's a damn sight better for fighting in than a stage costume," Jay said, continuing to admire his work. Or admire her. One and the same, really. "Wanna take it for a test drive?"

"The better question is 'how're your stitches'?" she asked, smirking. "You up to this, Red?"

Pulling up his uniform shirt, he showed her the wound, healed to a reddened mark. "I'm good to go if you are." Both of them were suited up, leaving off only the masks, as Kala had taken hers back off after checking the fit.

"Then let's get this party started," Kala said, and led the way back upstairs, pulling her hair up as she went. For the moment she was completely unaware of the way her back arched when she did that, or the view she was giving Jay. Or how much he was admiring it.


	25. Settling the Score

Jay's training area wasn't much more than a few mats and a rack of weaponry against one wall in another closed-off area of the parking deck, adjacent to his private garage, but it'd sufficed so far. It'd do for tonight's rematch, certainly, even though he'd have liked to take this one to the rooftops to show her what a good moving fight could do at ten stories up.

Eh, there'd be time for that later, he supposed.

For now, he'd settle for a close quarters fight. It'd give him a chance to assess how well she'd picked up some of the techniques he'd taught her. Well. And other things. Maybe. Whatever the hell was bugging her would come out in the fight, he was sure. Kala tended to broadcast her emotions anyway, and sparring was too intense to keep them under wraps.

But that wasn't the point, he reminded himself as they got to the training room and he shut the door behind them. Cracking his knuckles, he circled her again, this time not in admiration of the way the costume fit her, but in anticipation of matching wits with her. He wasn't really all that worried about dealing with her powers. Most of a fight was about the mind, not the body, and Jay knew he had superior experience and training.

Following him visually, with just a turn of her head to track him, Kala smiled, settling into a fighting stance. "What are you waiting for?" she teased, amusement clear in her tone.

"Just appreciating the view," he said. It wasn't really a lie, but he'd gotten damn good at multitasking over the years, and in the space of just under a minute, he already had her number. Knew just how she'd attack him if he could get her worked up enough. Knew just how to get through her defenses, even without knowledge of the suit.

Oh yeah, Miss Kala Lane-Kent, Kryptonian Princess Extraordinaire, was going down.

Kala chuckled at him again, her body language turning predatory. "Think you can manipulate me into throwing the first punch, huh?"

"I know I can," he said. No point in lying about that, either. "Question is, when and how will you strike?"

"If I did, wouldn't _you_ like to know? You're not gonna make me dizzy by circling me, by the way. I can dance in circles for hours without my equilibrium shifting."

This time Jay laughed, stopping in his wide circle to face her, and fell into a fighting stance of his own. "All right, then. Let's go."

"You sure you can handle it?" Kala teased, and he swore he could see bright amusement in her eyes even behind the lenses.

"Oh, I can handle—" he started to answer, and found himself lying on his back, the breath knocked out of him, and Kala's silvery laughter somewhere behind him.

Jay blinked, reconstructing what had just happened. He knew Kala would open with either one of those silly flying kicks she loved so much—heroes, don't let your babies watch kung-fu movies—or a straight-up punch. In either case, her initial target would always be his sternum. He'd mostly broken her of the kicks by now; smacking her into the wall of the parking deck when he grabbed her ankle and swung her whole body had taught her well.

In spite of that, he'd been expecting the kick, really. She did like them, they were pretty and impressive, and by now she figured she had advantage enough to pull them off. Jay had planned on _not_ swinging her, instead grabbing her ankle and pulling it past his shoulder, rolling with her momentum until he could get his hands on a delicate wrist and bend it back. Joint lock, takedown in thirty seconds.

Instead he was slowly rolling to his feet, feeling the impression of her forearm against the center of his chest. She'd come all the way inside his guard and just _shoved_ him. He wasn't sure whether it was strength or momentum, but he'd landed on his ass ten feet from where he'd been standing. And it had all happened so fast he hadn't even fucking _perceived_ it happening.

And Kala was still giggling like a delighted schoolgirl, albeit one who was hovering two feet off the ground. Seeing that put the hairs up on the back of his neck, but not in trepidation. "Still wanna play?" she taunted.

Oh hell yes, did he _ever_. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this _alive_ when he wasn't about to take down some deadly scumbag. And he knew why; he'd given her the skills, combined with her powers, to make her really and truly _dangerous_. Jay had always loved playing with fire. And that laugh—hot damn, she was having _fun_ with this, enjoying the game as much as he did.

Jay feinted a rush, threw himself aside, and pitched the _manriki_ he'd pulled at the spot where he thought her ankles would be if she'd come in to bust him again. He guessed exactly right and hauled on his end of the long chain as the other wrapped around one of Kala's ankles. She yelped in surprise as he yanked her into range, a fist already heading for the knockout-spot on her chin.

She caught his hand, stopping the blow with a solid _thwack_ , and smiled. "Nice gloves." Then she was gone, tearing the _manriki_ out of his grip.

He knew what she'd do, and dove and rolled to forestall her next attack, looking up when he came to rest. Kala hovered well out of range by the ceiling right where he expected, smirking devilishly. "Now what, Hood?"

"Now we find out if you're Daddy's little girl," Jay retorted, and fired from the hip with the gun he'd pulled while tumbling.

He wasn't stupid. He aimed for her center mass, where the armoring on the new suit would protect her. And she'd said she was partly invulnerable anyway, and they knew she could heal any wound with a little sunlight. But she _had_ to learn that hovering and taunting wouldn't work for shit in the field.

Kala let out a very undignified yelp, and Jay heard the bullet ricochet. Of course it did; he'd designed the suit well, and he hadn't been nervous even for a second. Not at all. Not in the least.

He went rolling across the ground and thought it was his own idea until he realized his gun had gone missing. Well, this was turning out even more fun than he'd thought. Jay spun to his feet and found Kala _right beside_ him, the sole of that brand-new boot headed for his face.

Apparently she hadn't learned as well as he'd thought. So he grabbed her ankle and started to twist, only she spun in midair and the _other_ foot missed his nose by half an inch, thanks to his quick reflexes. Still holding one ankle, he tried to haul her closer with it.

This time was different, though; Kala didn't slide through the air toward him like he expected, like she always had. This was like trying to tow a car when the parking brake was on. Jay had to let go or be dragged off his feet, and she landed just outside his lunging range.

Hmm, what next? Jay threw himself at her, tumbling at the last second and coming up inside the punch meant for his chest. His _kris_ whispered through the air, but her gut wasn't there, Kala vaulting over him and snapping down a knife-hand strike that would've gotten the nerve cluster at the base of his neck if he hadn't hunched his shoulders automatically. He felt her fingers graze his shoulder and ear, and wheeled to face her.

"Geez, I just _got_ this outfit. Like I'd let you cut it up," Kala complained, dancing back like a boxer.

"More worried about the clothes than your own skin? Such a _girl_ ," Jay taunted back, advancing cautiously. This was way more fun than even he had expected. Sparring at full speed and strength against someone who could take it? Someone who could get shot at and not freak out about it? Someone he could trust to be up to a fight on this level? Oh, _hell yes_.

"You made it, you're the one who's gonna have to fix it," Kala replied, and suddenly she was inside his guard again, flipping the _kris_ out of his hand. She stayed there, smirking, absolutely sure she was fast enough and strong enough and invulnerable enough to take anything he dished out.

Jay just grinned evilly. "You're right, I _do_ know this costume inside and out," he said, and yanked the zipper down to her navel.

Three sensations hit his brain simultaneously: the sound of Kala's shocked shriek, the impact of her hand slapping his cheek, and the sight of her pale skin abruptly bared. _She wasn't wearing a bra under the costume. She wasn't wearing_ _ **anything**_ _under the costume that he could see._ He'd seen it before, in that issue of _GQ,_ but live and in living, breathing, vaguely-violet-scented color right in front of him was something else entirely.

 _Uh-oh,_ he thought, even while he realized that she hadn't slapped him as hard as she could've. His jaw wasn't broken, anyway.

…

For a second, Kala almost didn't react, almost let him get away with it. Her whole body yearned toward him, the air seemed to vanish—and then she came to her senses. This was Donna's damn ex, and her trainer, and just generally _Jay_. Kala smacked his face and shot backwards clutching her suit closed, and then jerked the zipper up as fast as she could without breaking it. "Jay, _the fuck_?!" she snapped, hating the yipping tone in her voice. _That_ had been completely unexpected.

As was the goofy smirk he was trying to hide. "It's a valid technique. Maybe I should've put the zipper somewhere else."

Her earlier thoughts that he just thought of her as a kid flew out the window right then. Along with an echo of Dick's words to her in the diner and after. Maybe there was more going on there than she'd thought, especially in the way that Jay hadn't looked away once the zipper had come down. The thought caused more than a couple of mixed feelings, as well as a completely unexpected tug down below that went poorly with her current resentment. She tried not to think about the way she could hear her own heartbeat speed up. "You troll," Kala snarled defensively, her cheeks flushed. "You've been waiting to do that since you offered to redesign my costume."

"Nah," he retorted. "I've been waiting to do that since I saw that _GQ_. Wondered how much was airbrushed."

Since _GQ_? Uh-oh. And then the airbrushing comment registered. "Oh, you _bitch_ ," Kala growled, and came after him again, no subtlety, no cute tactics, just straight in fist-first at his throat.

He blocked and locked her wrist, yanking her close. For the second time in five minutes, her skin got hypersensitive. "Nice to know it's all real and unedited," Jay whispered, and the huskiness of his voice made the hair on the nape of her neck stand up. Her breath just wouldn't come for a moment, all of her at full awareness. _This is a bad idea, a very bad idea,_ she told herself, and feinted a strike at his chin to twist out of the joint lock.

"And all natural, too," he added, dropping back to regroup as she put some distance between them. "Not like some other plastic and clay types I've met."

Clay? _Seriously!?_ Kala's mind caught up with the reference quickly enough that she couldn't help feeling the little stab of jealousy again that Dick and Tim's warnings the other day had brought up in her. "Did you just seriously compare me to Donna Troy?" she said, not believing his audacity. It had irritated her enough just to have the image of Jay and Donna shoved into her brain, but to be physically compared to her—even in a favorable way—was enough to drive a metaphorical knife between her ribs.

For a moment Jay looked even more taken aback than she felt, his face contorting with confusion. "What, I try to give you a compliment, and you think I'm comparing you? Get real."

All of a sudden, everything Dick said seemed to slam into Kala's brain at once. Jay knew. Jay had to know about Donna chewing her a new one. And here he was comparing her to his ex and expecting her to take it as a compliment? " _You_ get real," she snarled. "I know you knew, Jay. Why I came to Gotham in the first place. Why I wanted the training. You damn well _knew_ I was the loose cannon Troy couldn't stop bitching about because you heard it first-hand, didn't you? You were seeing her back then. Thanks for telling _me_. No wonder you were an asshole the moment we met."

He stopped to simply stare at her, his face unreadable, and then Jay said in a flat voice, "Yeah, and probably half the reason she and I split was because I read her the riot act over it. She's a control freak, K, always has been. And no, I wasn't being a dick because of that. I just figured you were another good kid that Bruce was gonna get killed, and everyone's so damn eager to sign up for his program despite the cost." On that, he lunged at her again, real anger behind the first blow.

Kala parried and dodged, trying to fight through a morass of tangled emotions. Jay had stood up for her back then? Or was it just that he couldn't stand that kind of controlling personality, either? She didn't know what to think—except that if she didn't get her head in the game, Jay might actually win this rematch. "You should've told me, Jay. I don't need someone training me because they feel sorry for me." Her turn to throw a punch, hectic patches of red on her cheeks while she returned the blow. "I thought you were too good for princesses with superiority complexes and she's a textbook _example_." She punched him again before he had a chance to retaliate, emphasizing the last word.

Jay rolled with it and struck back. "How d'ya think I figured that out?" he snarled, trapping her in an elbow lock. Swift blows rained down on her shoulder and her side as she twisted, the suit taking the worst of it. Jay's voice was harsh with exertion. "The big crush of my teen years, and she drove me fucking _nuts_ when we were together. Think she felt about the same about me—except the crush part."

In a calmer moment, she would have really felt for him on that count, but now wasn't the time. "Still doesn't mean I wanna be your pity-protégé," Kala shot back, breaking his grip and shoving him. With her flight and strength, that forced them apart.

"Pity's one thing I don't ever have," Jay retorted, and lunged for her, his hand whipping out to throw a knife he'd pulled from a sleeve as he came at her. Kala dodged the lunge easily, grabbing the knife out of the air with a turn and spinning back around to land in a crouch and whip the blade back at Jay's legs, hilt first to punch him with it, hard. Angry as she was, she still wouldn't stab him.

He skipped aside enough to lessen the blow, and fetched her one hell of a punch upside the head. His gloves must've been kinetic-dispersal weave, too, to use that much force and not break something. Kala shook her head to clear it, and Jay called warningly, "You know better than to fight angry, K. Get it under control or I'm gonna wipe the floor with ya."

"The only one wiping the floor will be _you_ ," she promised. It was a monumental effort to shove her irritation aside—along with all the other troublesome feelings he called up—and get her head back in the game in time to block his next strike. Angling for the advantage, Kala added, "And don't mistake me for Troy. You're really in for it if you think I'm anything like _her_. For one thing, I'm faster." She blurred in and smacked him, open-handed, before landing behind him. "For another, I'm meaner." With that she kicked him right in the buttocks while he was still turning.

Jay spun around, two knives landing right where Kala had been standing seconds ago. His mouth twitched as it was obvious he was searching for just the right comeback, her remarks and attacks throwing him off. The look of it sent a sense of satisfaction down Kala's spine that all but wiped out the jealousy and twinge of want that she'd been fighting since he'd opened her suit.

"Really think throwing tidbits of my personal history in my face is gonna distract me?" he said at last, as he started to circle her again. "Not like any of that's classified info. And _now_ who's comparing you to Miss Sparkly Princess? Sure as hell ain't me," he finished with a dramatic shrug, hands out and all.

That one hit her right in the gut. How dare he throw that back at her!

"And by the way," he added, "you should've gone for a throat punch while I was distracted by the view, instead of that prissy little slap. Getting sloppy, K."

That was it, this was _on_. If he was going to be petty, she could go for her own low-blow, Kala thought as she set her stance again. "Oh, sorry. You're right. Maybe if I had, you wouldn't be able to _talk_." Coming in hard and fast, she didn't give him so much as a pause for breath, feinting and striking and kicking and once just whipping past him close enough to smack him with the air pressure. Jay stood up to it well; Kala was discovering the joy of a sparring partner who could handle her. Not even Jase could anticipate her moves this well.

It was exhilarating to know she could _use_ her powers, not even have to hold back, and Jay could handle it. He had an answer for everything, some of it with weapons she hadn't bothered to search for with x-ray vision—and she would _not_ make that mistake again, she told herself as she deflected and dodged a couple of batarangs.

Some of it was pure technique and experience. Kala had figured out that he knew her so well because he'd been the one to train her these last few weeks. He knew how she moved, he knew which attacks and parries she preferred, and he knew what she'd do when he presented her with a given situation, because he'd _taught_ her what to do. It felt like she was fighting a psychic, Jay having the counter ready for most things before she could follow through.

So she got creative again, and did things that would be completely _stupid_ without her powers. Like freezing stock-still just inside his attack range and waiting until the last possible second to block his hand from sweeping toward her throat. Or flying _into_ the stream of bullets from the gun he'd recovered— _note to self: don't let opponents get weapons back after you disarm_ _them_ —and swatting them casually into the ground, since she was moving twice as fast as they were.

If they'd been out in the open, she would've just soared up out of his sight-range, and come in fast for each strike, but he would've teased her about not being able to use those tactics in the field. On rooftop runs, she certainly could—and it would be nice to take this up onto the roof some night—but not in here.

Speaking of things he wouldn't expect, Kala swept past the weapons rack and plucked out a short, wickedly-sharp knife. She was quick enough that he probably hadn't even realized she was armed, but one of Jay's training rules was that anything was fair game. It was pretty much his _only_ rule.

Two passes later—a nifty feint at his eyes and kick at his knee, both of which he blocked—Kala whipped out the knife. She had no intention of actually _cutting_ him; drawing blood wasn't her thing. What she wanted was for Jay to see the blade and jump back, seeking space to deal with another move he was unprepared for.

When he did that, for a second he was completely open. _Then_ Kala dashed in and grabbed his shirt, pulling it hard away from his body and running the knife over the fabric. Like all of Jay's blades, the edge was as keen as a razor, and suddenly his shirt flapped open in two pieces.

"Payback, huh?" Jay laughed, not even bothering to zip up his jacket as Kala retreated. Instead he had another of those lightning-fast slinky chains wrapped around the knife while Kala was still admiring her handiwork with a self-satisfied smirk.

And admiring his chest and abs, which really, she shouldn't have been doing. She shouldn't have been thinking those thoughts, not about Jay, not after she'd managed to dump her issues all over him and get stung for it, and not while they were sparring. Certainly not when he was playing just as rough as she was. He was just messing around, and she had enough drama in her life. Still, it was fun to play with him, even if her distraction cost her the knife.

"Still fighting sloppy, K," he admonished her, rushing back into her space. "Unlike some other princesses I've sparred with."

"You _ass,"_ Kala hissed, dropping back and dodging him. Somehow it had stung less—or maybe she was just distracted.

"Think so? I've been paying attention. Another move like that, and I'll have you."

Jay _almost_ got close enough to take her down while she was reacting to his cutting remarks, and that just wouldn't do. So Kala acted like she was going to close with him again, then shot completely across the room in the blink of an eye. She landed laughing with the thought of what she was about to do, whirled on tiptoe, and rushed Jay with every ounce of speed and strength she could safely use. Just like her opening move, only this time she wasn't going to flatten him on her way by.

This time she tackled him flat on his back, his wrists pinned beneath her hands above his head, her knee pressing down on his thigh. Kala smiled evilly down at him, using her flight to back up the power of gravity and keep him shoved _tightly_ down on the mat. "Nope. _I've_ got _you_. Let's see you compare me to Princess Donna _now_."

…

Finding himself pinned beneath both Kala's weight and her added force, Jay blinked in shock. No way had she been able to get one over on him not once, not twice, but _three_ times now. Damn speed. He hadn't been counting on her using it so consistently to her advantage, even if he'd known she'd throw it in there every chance she got. He should've realized it; he was the one that taught her to play dirty, after all.

Only one solution, then: take the option away from her. And get her to let up on the pressure.

"Hey, you're the one that brought her up," he said, reacting to her continued harping on the subject of a long-ago relationship that had gone up in so many flames. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were jealous."

The blush that moved up Kala's cheeks with his statement was exactly the reaction he'd hoped for, and he couldn't help a smirk as her grip on him loosened fractionally. "That's what I thought. I mean, why else cut my shirt off? Clearly you like what you see, or else you wouldn't have done it."

Kala seemed to sputter for a moment, before her eyes took on a wicked gleam. "Maybe I just wanted a level playing field. You got a peek, I got a peek. Tit for tat. So to speak."

Jay raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh. Seems like I'm the only one still half-naked here."

A shrug. "Works for m—"

But Kala's sentence was cut off as Jay twisted, getting just enough leverage to flip them, pulling her off-balance with his legs until she rolled and wound up pinned beneath his weight. The indignant squeak she let out was entirely too satisfying.

"You were saying?" he taunted her, gripping her wrists just a little tighter so she knew she wasn't gonna get out of the hold easily. Or at least, without doing him physical damage.

Kala's expression darkened and her lips twisted in a smirk, and she started squirming beneath him, trying to get leverage that he knew from experience she just wasn't gonna find. And her speed was gonna be absolutely no advantage this way.

"It's no use, K. I've got you, fair and square," he shot down at her with a laugh, pinning her with more of his body weight, rather than just the force of the hold.

Her evil smile told him she still had a few tricks in store, right before he felt the mats sinking away from under him. Or more correctly, he was rising up, Kala nonchalantly hovering. The pressure points were all off, and Jay let go before she could smack him against the ceiling.

That meant he dead-dropped ten feet from an awkward position, but he'd been Robin and tumbling came naturally. Jay rolled to his feet just in time to catch Kala incoming again. She grabbed his jacket and slammed him up against the wall, all fierce grin and flashing eyes. "Gotcha! _Again._ Now what, Red?" Kala laughed.

Shoving her away wouldn't work, he couldn't spin her around from this angle, but that didn't mean Jay was giving up. Oh no, not by a long shot. He knew a few tactics that weren't in the standard Bat-book.

Jay's hands dropped to Kala's hips and he yanked her close. The way he'd learned that move, he should've head-butted her next, breaking her nose and possibly some facial bones. But then she fell against him, warm and sleek in the suit he'd made for her—the suit that had almost nothing underneath—and he could picture her creamy skin…

…Kala gasped, her eyes flying wide, and all of a sudden Jay _knew_. They both knew, what was on his mind was showing in his eyes, and a spark leapt between them. In that moment, everything froze and shifted for Jay, even time.

What surprised him more was that she wasn't forcibly moving herself away despite the fact that they both knew she could. Her lips curved into little grin and she laughed soft and low in her throat. And she didn't look away.

Jay let his hands slide around to the small of her back, tugging her closer. Small hands against his chest, Kala trying to steady herself. Hazel eyes fluttered closed and her breath stuttered. It was pretty damn clear that she was just as affected by this as he was. "Evil," she breathed. Brow furrowed, still not even trying to move away.

"Takes one to know one," was his only reply. Jay could feel a shiver running through her like an electric circuit.

Kala's breath shuddered softly before she looked up at him again with those huge eyes of hers. "Still not gonna be a notch on your bedpost, Jay," she said, her voice going quiet.

"Not looking for notches, Kala. Or sparkly princesses, for that matter," he replied, matching her tone as he fought the redirection of blood from his brain. But the drain was too damn complete, and the next thing he knew, he was an inch from her face, his eyes glued to hers as he could taste the sweetness of her breath, her lips just below his.

He could've sworn she was raising her head to meet him halfway when all hell broke loose, the comm on the wall blaring to life in a burst of static and Oracle's computerized voice.

"Hood, Blur, we have a situation. You're needed uptown."


	26. The Threat of Fire

**Authors' Note:** Thank you all for reading and reviewing! Just wanted to let you know, we're going to try to finish an original story for NaNoWriMo. Luckily, we have enough of a lead on this story that we can continue to post. Expect us to slow down and post only once per week in November.

Also, one coauthor stepped on a freaking _nail_ today at work and managed to puncture the sole of her foot to about a half-inch depth. She is still surprised and dismayed that it happened, and that such a tiny thing can hurt so dang much. But hey, at least her tetanus shot is up to date now…

…

Kala had come here to settle this once and for all on all scores. From where she stood, it looked like maybe she had, even if it hadn't been the way she'd intended.

Things started to go sideways once Jay pinned her. His confession about the outcome of his relationship with Troy had brought her down from nuclear to steaming, little as she liked to admit it. From there, it was all about the fight, one-upping each other, and with their blood up, the bantering was going places they knew better than to go. Hadn't stopped either of them, trading quips and blows in equal measure. Both knew she was more than capable of putting an end to this rematch if she wanted to.

But Kala found that somehow she just—didn't want to.

Not really. Not yet.

It had been years since she'd actually wrestled around with someone who couldn't use super-strength to hold her down with one finger. Her twin couldn't help it if, these days, he cheated just by playing. Her perception of Jay, and Dick's, had been wrong, and the knot she had felt in her chest had dissolved. It was only when Jay had turned the tables once she pinned him the second time that things got far too real.

The expected attack had been for him to push her away, Kala already primed for her counter-attack, when he reached out and caught her by the hips. No chance to process what he was doing before her body was pressed against his with sudden force, the surprise and reaction wrenching a gasp from her. Heat that had been on simmer suddenly flared supernova in her. _Oh_ _ **shit**_ _. What—_

Her eyes flew up to his, scrambling to process. Any minute an attack would come and her brain was functioning on an entirely different level. Knowing him, knowing his style, she had only seconds to get her brain back in gear before the head-butt came … but it never did.

From the way he just stared at her, Kala knew that he'd noticed her reaction. He _knew_. Just that quickly, the tables had turned, her cards on full-view. Only then did she notice something else. The proximity of their bodies was making it pretty obvious that Jay wasn't entirely unfazed by this either. Kala couldn't resist a chuckle, her lips twitching in a small acknowledging smile.

So maybe he had caught her out, but she wasn't the only one. If she wasn't just an arrogant super-powered kid, apparently things were a little complex for him, too.

Without another word, Jay pulled her tighter against him, her hands going to his chest to keep some sense of balance, and Kala had to close her eyes against the sensation. In the space of seconds, her world had narrowed to _this_. Anything outside of this room, outside of them, forgotten in the haze. God, what they were doing was crazy, but she couldn't deny the yearning roaring through her. Kala didn't even recognize her own voice when she could finally speak, their faces so close his lips were literally a breath away. The ache to kiss him tore at her; they had gone this far with it, why hold back? Jay's response hadn't done anything to quell the urge, their noses brushing. She could feel herself shivering, too far gone to stop herself.

And then Barbara's digitized voice blared from the wall.

Startling at the sound of Oracle's intrusion, they both jumped, Kala's body arching against Jay's involuntarily. A rush of adrenaline, mostly from the cold blast of sudden call to action in the heat of the moment, sent lightning through her veins. Embers banked but still breathing hard, Kala found all she could do was blink up at him as he froze in place, their gazes meeting in sudden clarity. Despite herself, she couldn't remember being more disappointed in her life. Her blood was still singing in her veins; every inch of skin felt like it was on fire.

"Hood, Blur, respond!" Oracle repeated over the comm.

The hypnosis of the moment seemed to shatter. Reality washed back in, reminders of who they were and why they were here, fighting in the training area.

A low growl from Jay's throat, and he tore his gaze away from hers, turning to shout at the comm, "Not a good time, O. What do you need?"

O's voice responded immediately, "Could use an extra hand or two with a robbery turned hostage situation at the Gotham Grand. Six armed gunmen, twenty-three hostages. B and R are en route."

"You seriously need us for this?" Jay spat, probably more harshly than he intended, the sudden bark of it nearly making Kala jump. Yep, she wasn't the only one shaken up by this. "We're all the way across town. And shouldn't Gotham PD be on it, anyway?"

For a second Oracle seemed to hesitate, then the comm crackled, and she replied, "Give me a heads-up next time you plan on being off the roster for the night. O out."

To Kala, she sounded pissed, but after a moment of tense silence Jay started snickering. It was only then that she realized she'd been holding her breath from the moment Babs' voice had cued up. Kala couldn't help herself then, breaking into laughter at the sheer absurdity of it. What did they think they were doing, anyway?

As Jay started laughing, too, he let go of her, and Kala spun away to lean up against the wall beside him, one hand to her face. She knew that if Babs hadn't spoken, they probably would've kissed, and that was just … this whole thing was ridiculous. She was leaving too soon. And being attracted to each other did _not_ mean they had any real feelings for each other besides respect. What kind of stupidity _was_ this? The ludicrousness of the situation kept hitting her every time she almost got her chortling under control.

Kala managed to catch her breath, then glanced over at Jay, and when their eyes met both of them started laughing again. But even as she did it, she knew what she was doing. Whistling in the dark, was all it was. Spooked bone-deep and utterly thrown. She found herself wondering if they both knew it. "I don't even want to _know_ what Babs thinks we were doing," Kala finally snickered, holding her sore sides.

"Who knows, with O. Good thing is, she won't say anything to anyone else, no matter what she suspects," Jay wheezed back. He straightened up then, and the ripped shirt did nothing to hide the movement of his abs. Kala's breath caught in her chest again. Her traitor mind gave her the searing image, Kala unable to stop wondering what he'd look like moving above her…

A ruthless mental iron door slammed down on that traitorous thought, locked tight. _No_. This was not what she had come to Gotham for, to find herself trapped in the same hopeless cycle she'd been in when she got here. She'd given herself permission to play, but hadn't expected what she might have opened the door to when she did. Her own fault for not knowing her own limits. With a crush of regret, she remembered how she'd made the same mistake with Sebast with her blood up. Not again, not just for simple attraction. They had a good working relationship; she wouldn't ruin that, as easy as it could be to just give in. Now that she knew it was there, though, it was an effort to push it aside. It didn't feel as if it was that simple.

Kala strove to keep the regret out of her expression, making herself face him. And ignore that tinge of reaction when she looked him in the eye. What she wouldn't have given for take-backs. Now that she knew… "Yeah, well, we probably ought to wrap up. It's getting pretty late and we've given the suit as thorough a test as we can, short of a rooftop run, and I don't think that's gonna happen tonight," she remarked, striving for a casual tone.

"You're right, probably not," Jay muttered. From the sound of it, he was thinking exactly what she was thinking: that a rooftop run would get their blood pumping hard enough that they'd end up rolling around on the mats later.

 _Yeah, at least we're not totally trying to deny it. No way around the fact that we were about to climb each other when Babs called. Saved by the bell, indeed._ For a beat, they both were quiet, dropping their eyes and nearly shuffling their feet in the silence. Something had changed, they both knew it. Question was, where to go from here? _I really ought to stick around and help him clean this up. I helped make it just as much as he did. Maybe more. Then again, the way I'm feeling, it might just be tempting fate a little_ _too_ _much._ "Soooo, maybe I ought to cut out a little early? I'll head back and meet you here tomorrow night at the usual with this baby. I guess we'll try a run then?"

"Might as well," he replied noncommittally.

Of course, she still had to change. Which put them both in another awkward position. Might as well give him the easy out. "Hey, you know what? I know how to lock up the bunker. Why don't you head on up?"

His smirk told her he knew exactly what she was thinking. "Nah, I'm too paranoid to let anyone else lock up. I've got to clean this up—think there's a knife in the wall still. You can let yourself out."

Hard to believe how hard it was to break away, standing up to roll her eyes as if it were business as usual. "All right, be that way then. See you tomorrow afternoon, Red." Kala told herself she would be fine once she took the first step away. She was about half-right.

Without a further word, Kala was back behind the curtain and blurring into street clothes in record time, tucking the new suit and all of its accessories into her bag. Thank goodness she could do that now, and not look like the Hunchback of Notre Dame carrying the thing. Jay was still in the training room when she left; as much as she felt wrong for not calling out a goodbye, it felt even more wrong to draw attention to her departure. She also couldn't face the fact that she was, to some extent, running away.

Heading out into the night, she took a thorough scan of her surroundings, ears trained for observers before ducking through an alley and hitting the skies. Uncle Bruce would be disappointed to know she'd flown home, but she was buzzing with too much tension to sit in a cab for half an hour. First order of business would be a shower, and maybe a quick chat with her parents. She was due and that would be guaranteed to put a damper on this line of thought. Anything, _anything_ , to take her mind off about the ache in her chest as she made her way back to Bristol.

…

After Kala tore out of training room like a bat out of hell—ironic, that—Jay took his time cleaning up. They'd left weaponry all over the place; a knife in the wall, three blades strewn across the floor, his favorite gun tossed into a corner, thirteen shell casings and the bullets that went with them scattered everywhere, his _manriki_ and the other chain he favored both tangled and thrown aside.

Not to mention the gratuitous amount of sweat they'd left on the mats. Well, it was mostly Jay's; Kala just didn't sweat like a full-blooded human, and since she really hadn't quite been going all-out—again, it'd take a roof run to get her to that level—she'd hardly perspired at all. And Jay had definitely noticed.

Then there was the blood. All Jay's, too, what little there was. Not that she'd intentionally beaten him bloody or anything, but a few good strikes was all it took to split his lip and cut his knuckles. He'd probably have a good shiner tomorrow, but thankfully, that and a little suture glue would be the only evidence of their fight. At least she hadn't broken his nose again.

Jay laughed to himself to think of it. He really had trained her up right, he supposed, if she was able to hold her own without either of them suffering too badly for it, and take him down a few pegs while she was at it. She'd come a lot further in a short time than he'd ever expected.

As a matter of fact … hell, Kala was ready to hit the streets properly again. Jay blinked as the realization hit him. Everything Jay wanted to teach her, she'd learned. Everything he'd wanted her to accomplish, she'd just proven she could do. And that meant, well, that meant her training with him was essentially done.

He really ought to let B know that. With her time in Gotham running out, the rest of the family would want to see her let loose to fly. Especially with her finally in a suit she could _fight_ in, and more than ready to roll. Part of him wanted to keep her to himself—it was only a week or so she had left—but that would be unfair to the rest.

Besides, honestly, if he didn't send her back, it wouldn't even take another speedy attack for them to wind up on the mats.

He scowled, remembering the pass that had landed him flat on his back. Seriously, he hadn't expected her to get the drop on him so damn easily.

Maybe he'd taught her better how to play dirty than he'd thought.

Of course, the thought of playing dirty just sent his mind right back to the two of them bantering and smacking each other like a couple of teenagers play-fighting. That was another thing he hadn't expected from her. He'd known she was a flirt to the core, but for her to use it in a fight like that? And to get him so far off his game that she'd been able to not only pin him, but to get him to think he'd had her pinned only to turn it around? Well, that was more than he'd bargained for.

As was the moment right before Oracle had so rudely interrupted them. For fuck's sake, they'd been about to kiss like some pair of star-crossed idiots! Just thinking about it, the way her eyes had looked when he'd pulled her close, sent all the blood away from his brain again, and he had to adjust himself several times before he finished wiping all the sweat and blood droplets off the mats.

Finally, the training room was clean, and with no other hesitation, Jay locked up the garage and bunker and headed upstairs to his apartment, stripping off his ruined uniform shirt the second he got into the bathroom. Shit, but he'd have to stock up on shirts again, Kala had taken or ruined so many of these already.

The image of her curled up in his shirt the night he'd taken her back to the Manor came to his mind unbidden then, and he couldn't help a shiver as he finished stripping and got straight in the shower, turning the water on cold to both soothe his muscles from the beating they'd taken and to cool certain things off. She'd looked so small and innocent then, such a far cry from the warrior he'd seen tonight. Daddy's girl, heh. Yeah, right. Not anymore.

He wasn't sure he'd ever quite be able to see her like that again, after the view he'd gotten of her chest. There was no 'small' about her, even if she was modestly built. And certainly no 'innocent', not after she'd cut his shirt in half. Sure as hell not after she'd damn near kissed him up against the wall. Pretty damn obvious now that she was thinking of him in the same—or at least similar—terms that he was thinking of her. They were on the same page, at least; this wasn't just flirting anymore, wasn't just messing around.

There was something really there. The growing tension—among other things—between them was proof enough of it.

A spark of desire shot down his spine with the realization, and heat pooled low in his belly. He _wanted_ her. Same as she wanted him.

Not that he got everything he wanted. Jay was smarter than that – _want_ wasn't the same as _need_ , or even _good idea_. He'd learned _that_ a long time ago, wanting someone who was sixty flavors of absolute wrongness, and Donna had just been the final exam. Wanting Kala was a very, very bad idea. She didn't need to get mixed up with anyone as fucked up as he still was – and he didn't need to fool around with a Super.

Fuck, when had he started thinking of her like this, anyway? Was it really when he'd seen that _GQ?_ Before that? Hell, he'd probably been doomed from the get-go. He'd always had a weakness for women that could break him in half if they wanted to, even if Kala's discovery of his 'type' had led to more jealousy from her than he'd have liked. It wasn't as if he was into the whole prissy princess thing, after all. Donna had been what he'd needed at the time, but her attitude toward him as time had gone on had showed him just what a mistake she'd been.

Kala had no such attitude. And he liked that. Definitely.

Dammit, he'd gone so far beyond screwed with Kala that there was probably no getting out now. How the hell had she wormed her way into his thoughts so fucking completely?

And how the hell was he supposed to function when his dick _would just not quit_ with the intense interest tonight?

Giving up on spending the rest of his night watching Springer reruns and drinking himself into a stupor, Jay turned the water up to hot— _to hell with cold_ —and let the memory of Kala's body pressed against him return, still fresh and vivid in his mind's eye.

At least this way he might be able to get some damn sleep later.

…

Even the coldness of the water, using the needle-spray setting on the showerhead, wouldn't take all of the heat out of her skin. Kala leaned her face back into it, trying to wash away whatever madness had gotten into her.

It wasn't working.

If anything, the sharp and frigid spray on sensitive body parts was just making it worse. And her always-active imagination wasn't helping her current discomfort in the slightest. With a groan of unhappiness, she turned and let the water soak her hair one last time before turning it off and reaching out for a towel.

Calling her parents' house hadn't worked. Neither of them were picking up the house line and no one was texting back. They'd gone to bed or they were out, one or the other. It was too late to call Jason and Elise, and she felt a twinge of guilt for not following up on that message. Calling Sebast wasn't even an option, his voice certainly wouldn't help with her mind's current state of misdirection.

Everything tangled up in knots, Kala growled with frustration. What exactly did she think she was doing? It was absolutely crazy to have let her idle thoughts go this far. Her stay was almost over, her training only scheduled for little over a week longer. So why was it she couldn't get Jay out of her head?

Wrapped in a robe, hair turbaned up, Kala made her way back into her bedroom and flopped down on the bed with a sigh. Well, it was only going to be her bedroom for another week. All too soon, she was going to be on a plane back to Metropolis, where her real life was waiting for her. The boys were flying back from the final press junket mid-week and were going to meet her at the airport along with Mom and Daddy. Mom had told her tonight that Jason and Elise were going to be spending the week with her and Daddy so they could see Kala before the band pulled out. Dad, Lana, and Kristin would be there to see them off. One big family reunion before KLK headed out on their first truly _huge_ tour.

She could be back in her own house, where she could lay her hand down on anything she wanted without even looking. She could have her real life back. Get back to being Kala Lane-Kent, rockstar. No more odd hours unless the tour required them, her best friend back, a sunbath every morning for as long as Sebast slept, no more getting her ass handed to her on and off, no more being stuck in the middle of the Wayne Brothers' sibling rivalry, no more running on rooftops unless she was called in as reserves, no more grime and killers and darkness and super-villains. This was the year she was going to stand up in front of the world and be noticed for the dream she'd been chasing ever since she was a child.

The thought should have cheered her. So why didn't it?

Because Kala was becoming uncomfortably aware that a part of her didn't want to leave, had gotten more than a little used to the euphoria that came with not having to hide an essential part of herself. There was something so freeing about just being who you were with people who understood that abilities like this didn't make you some kind of freak. That you were just as normal as everyone else underneath it all. Sure, she'd had to starve off the powers to truly train, to be on even ground, but they'd all known what she was capable of. She'd never had to keep secrets from Uncle Bruce, the Birds, or the Bats. Not even Jay, who'd known who she was from the word go.

With that last thought, Kala groaned. And here we were back at Jay again. It seemed like lately, it all went back to Jay, and with an increasingly changing focus. How the hell had her opinion of him changed so much without her really being aware of it?

At first she'd thought he was an arrogant jackass. Well, he was still arrogant, and he was still a jackass, but now she knew there was more to him. He shot his mouth off to keep people from asking questions he didn't want to answer. Thing was, with Jay, she was starting realize that his actions spoke louder than words. Thinking back over the confrontation they had had earlier over Donna, she felt like an idiot. Yeah, Jay had known about all of that mess, but she should have known that the answer was a little more complicated than pity. What it boiled down to was this: he'd trained her because he didn't trust the others to make her work hard enough to keep her safe. And he'd made her the suit not because he wanted to see her in something sinfully skin-tight, but because the costume she'd been wearing wasn't up to par.

She was pretty sure Jay gave a damn about her beyond what happened today. How he really felt, she wasn't sure, but he _did_ care somehow. Maybe it was something like duty, loyalty to a fellow fighter; it was still caring. And that against the wall? Kala had no idea what had made him do it, but it had been akin standing next to a blast-furnace when he had pulled her close. And he hadn't been the only one overwhelmed by it.

Kala shivered in remembrance, wrapping her arms around herself tightly. God, for a moment tonight…. Again, unbidden images floated through her mind, realizing just how easily it could have gone down. Just another tug of that zipper, his mouth on hers, only the barrier of the suit and a pair of thin silk panties between them. It was impossible to describe how bad she'd craved that kiss when he'd been so close. Staring at the ceiling, she bit her lip and squeezed her eyes closed. It had been too damned close, if Babs hadn't called … and Kala didn't do casual. She didn't do short-term flings. Whatever was between them was attraction and respect all mixed up together, and she had to work with him without getting all fluttery over his sculpted abs.

They were really nice abs, though. And _damn_ was he handsome.

Kala groaned, laughing at herself. _I'm a mess and he's a_ _ **disaster**_ _. It'd be the worst idea ever to start something up with him now. I'm mixed up and lonely and no matter how much I might like him, Jay doesn't need my issues on top of his. There was just enough truth in what Dick was saying, that I don't want to dump my drama on him. No, it's a bad idea._

Trying to ignore her own interest, Kala rolled onto her stomach, the pillow under her cheek and her arms laced together under that. She could easily remember the first time she'd realized that he was a pretty bastard, the night at Seventh Circle, the first time she'd actually seen his face without that damned domino. Without a doubt, he was one of the most attractive men she knew, even with a broken nose. She had to smile a little at that thought. But when the hell had she started _wanting_ him? When had Jay started looking like a good alternative to her current problems? It wasn't _just_ loneliness; sure, it had been months since Marlene, but she'd gone months between lovers before and hadn't ached for anyone this much. She wished she could tell herself she was somehow stupidly transferring her crush on Sebast onto a safer and more distant target, but Jay was by no means 'safe'. That much she knew. And she refused to use him as a substitute.

Come to think of it, she _did_ know the exact moment when Jay started to be more than an undeniably attractive aggravation. That morning after they'd both gotten injured, when he came to her and apologized for acting like a douche over _GQ_. And then a few minutes later, when she'd learned from Alfred that Jay had been the one to carry her upstairs and tuck her in. That was the moment when she'd known that the night before he had not only trusted her as a fighter to cover his back, and trusted her to treat and stitch his wounds, he'd also shown that he cared enough to make her comfortable once she'd wimped out and fallen asleep on him, cared enough to apologize when saying sorry wasn't his thing. Jay had gone above and beyond for her in the last month, further than Bruce had even attempted, up to and including kicking her ass to wake her up and making her a brand new suit when she hadn't really asked.

Clearing her mind for just a moment, she realized to her shame that she'd never thanked him for any of it.

There was only a week left, nowhere near the time she needed to figure this out. And how lame was it that a little zipper-pull was what finally brought it to her attention? Kala had slept beside Sebast too long not to be very good at denial … but Jay was just as good at kicking down all her mental barriers.

She had no business getting involved with a Bat in any way beyond friendship and loyalty. No matter what her disobedient hormones were telling her.

A thought occurred to her then. Ten to one that he was still awake, still fairly early for him to be down for the count. If he hadn't hit the bottle. Maybe she'd get lucky and she could taunt him as much as her memories taunted her right now. Pausing for a moment, she fished her cell phone out of the bag she'd tossed at her bedside on coming in and texted him quickly before officially turning in. Smiling to herself, she settled in to sleep. _Never let it be said that Supers don't have excellent manners_. _Let him make of it what he will._

…

Staring at the ceiling from his bed, Jay watched the lights of traffic in Gotham move the shadows across the room in an endless cycle. Instead of wiping himself out during his shower, all he'd managed to do was wind himself up further, his brain turning circles and not letting him pass out at all. He wasn't even remotely sleepy, just physically exhausted.

Maybe if he got up to grab his emergency stash of scotch, he could proceed with his original plan, and drink himself stupid.

It'd be a hell of a lot better than wondering just how he was gonna deal with the whole Kala thing, when there was no fucking way in the universe that anything could really happen between them. Not when she'd be gone in a week, back to her whirlwind life as a rockstar.

Jesus fucking Christ, what had he gotten himself into?

Rolling over, he threw back the covers to sit up and go for the scotch, when his phone buzzed from its place on his night table.

Dammit, couldn't O leave well enough alone?

Jay grabbed the phone, ready to tell Babs off, and he saw that he had a new text message.

From Kala.

Well, he supposed he should've seen _this_ coming.

A few swipes of his thumb over the screen, and he read the message: _Thanks for everything tonight. Don't drink too much. Sweet dreams._

For a second, Jay froze. 'Sweet dreams'? It hadn't occurred to him that she might've heard what he'd said the night he took her back to the Manor and tucked her in. Then again…

She might have just been messing with him. Or maybe she was being sincere, grateful and all that shit. Or maybe … maybe she was just as bent out of shape as he was about tonight. Thinking about the kiss that had almost been was probably worse than if he'd actually gone ahead and kissed her.

Either way, he wouldn't be having any dreams, sweet or otherwise, if he didn't get some fucking sleep. As per the plan, a couple of fingers of scotch wouldn't hurt, and certainly wouldn't be 'too much'. Hauling himself up at last, Jay went to retrieve the liquor from the cabinet, his chest aching with an unfamiliar tightness. Most likely an adrenaline overload side-effect from the fight.

Yeah, that. He could always find _something_ to blame emotions on.

Probably.

…

"You're back."

Pouring himself a cup of coffee as Bruce moved to the table behind him, Jay yawned and resisted the urge to put down his cup and scrub a hand over his face; it was way too fucking early to be out and about. No one else was even up yet, besides Alfred and Daddy Bats. "Yeah, well," he started to reply, turning away from the kitchen island to lean back against it, facing Bruce, "had a few things to go over with you. Figured I'd get here before you head up to the Watchtower for the weekly League meeting."

Bruce arched an eyebrow at him as he sat down, sipping his own coffee that Alfred had so helpfully supplied before leaving them alone in the kitchen. "Hmm. Must be important, then. As important as what kept you from lending a hand last night?"

Jay couldn't help a slight wince at that. Caught. _Damn!_ Shrugging, he stepped over to the table and sat across from Bruce, took a long sip of his coffee. "I guess you could say that. K and I were testing out her new uniform. Pretty rugged workout. Weren't in any shape to head out at the moment."

"I'll bet," Bruce said tersely, giving Jay a long look. "You're aware that her father entrusted her to our care. It would be a bad idea to get involved with her, Jason."

It took Jay a minute of shock to fully realize that Bruce was calling him out. No way had O tattled on them. No way. So … fuck, were they that obvious? _Fuck!_

"One, even if we were, it's none of your business, B," Jay spat back, sitting his mug on the table and starting to tick off his fingers, one by one. "Two, Kala's a grown-ass woman. Three, I ain't afraid of Big Blue. And four, we were _sparring,_ for fuck's sake. And she was kicking my ass, for your information." Christ, she had practically wiped the floor with him. Well, until things had turned … intimate, not that Daddy Bats had any need to know.

Another long look, and Bruce finally nodded, sitting back in his chair. "All right, I'll take your word for it. Next time get your names off the roster beforehand. We can't function as a team if people are unexpectedly unavailable. You know that."

The defensive fire that had risen in Jay's chest subsided a little, then— _shit, figures he was just yanking my chain, the bastard_ —and one corner of his mouth tugged upward just barely, despite his best intentions. "Team, huh? Here I thought I was a nuisance you were tolerating." If there was a hint of a pout in his voice at that, he'd be loath to admit it. He hadn't really been a part of the team since he was Robin; the night they'd taken down part of Black Mask's organ harvesting operation had been proof enough of that. Just because they were all working the same case, coordinated through Babs, didn't make them a _team_.

"I never said that or thought it, Jason," Bruce shot back, his voice low. "You're family."

Somehow, that managed to strike a chord in Jay; he couldn't actually deny that even though he was the black sheep, he was still part of the clan. Family just sometimes treated each other like crap, right? Still, it was … kinda nice to hear it, for once.

Another lift of one shoulder, and he frowned, not quite able to meet Bruce's gaze. "Yeah. I know."

"Good." Clearing his throat, Bruce sat up in his seat again. "Alfred's making French toast. Are you staying for breakfast?"

Jay let out a small laugh, the thought of French toast suddenly making his mouth water. "Maybe."

"You know you're welcome to stay as long as you like, Jason," Bruce went on. The light in his eyes at the suggestion gave Jay the impression that maybe he even meant it.

"Yeah? Thought it was just Alfred that wanted me to come back."

Bruce shook his head minutely, a hint of a smile actually moving across his face. "Suffice it to say, I've been shown the error of my ways."

"Alfie's always been persuasive like that," Jay replied, starting to feel awkward as they got into the heart of the matter; it wasn't just that Bruce had always been an uncommunicative ass, Jay was just as bad, and he knew it too damn well. Getting them to sit down and talk like this _had_ to have somehow been orchestrated by the unofficial patriarch of the household.

"He certainly knows how to hit you where it hurts," Bruce said, quiet again.

Jay couldn't argue with that one at all. "It's how he keeps us all in line."

Nodding, Bruce let himself smile a little wider, and he took another long swallow of coffee to try to cover his amusement.

Jeez, they hadn't shared a joke in years. Talk about progress.

" _Anyway,"_ Jay went on, changing the subject so they didn't have to sit in strained conversation any longer than was necessary. "So, I think Kala's ready to return to regular patrol. You know, for the whopping ten days until she has to leave. She's _good,_ B. Better than I'd figured she'd be, with her powers at full strength. Managed to not break my nose this time. Even got the drop on me a couple times."

Bruce lifted an eyebrow at him again, setting his coffee down. "So you said. You getting sloppy?"

Jay could only laugh at that. "Not a chance. She's fucking _fast._ Good at distraction. _Really_ good. Guess I taught her well," he finished with a smirk.

"Okay, then," Bruce nodded. "We'll get her back out with the rest of us tonight. Don't have anything pressing, so we'll take it slow, see what she's got. Can I count on you to tag along?"

Jay couldn't help a dark grin. "You kidding? I wouldn't miss graduation day for the world. Got some potential intel on Black Mask for you, too, if you're at all interested in taking that fucker down and putting the final nail in his coffin. And if I can get my personal contact to agree to a meet," he finished with a shrug. He'd been sitting on his contact for the better part of a month, trying to get him back under his thumb since things had gone sideways after their initial bust. Nothing quite like Mask discovering a potential mole to bring the heat down and spook the little weasel.

Bruce's eyes widened, and he sat a little straighter. "Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack. My guy's finally agreed to get me access to Mask's private network. With all the goodies that I wasn't able to get before. Like building blueprints, detailed notes on the organ harvesting procedures, info on all their victims. The good stuff, real proof that we can finally use to go in and shut him down."

A nod, and Bruce hummed thoughtfully. "Set it up. If things go right, we might be able to do this before we have to lose the extra manpower."

"Will do," Jay nodded back, glad that at least he and Bruce were on the same page. If they could get this done, then Mask would be _history._ "And on that note, I'm gonna skip breakfast. Be back later … with an overnight bag."

"Better pack for the week," Bruce suggested. "We should handle this with kid gloves."

"Agreed."

Bruce's small smile then was all the approval Jay needed. For the first time in years, he was actually starting to feel welcome in the house again.


	27. Back in the Fold

There was a breeze blowing as Kala roared up the interstate in the borrowed Cobra, windows down. Bless Dick for offering to let her have his car for the day; she'd been spending a small fortune on cabs rather than ask Bruce to borrow one. The last of the details had _finally_ been dealt with and she wouldn't be needed for any of the other particulars until she touched down in Metropolis, when the tour handlers would own her soul for the next six months. And it hadn't come a moment too soon. Not that she'd been at her most attentive today. There were times when Jenna had had to snap fingers in her face. Thinking back on it, that was likely half of why they had agreed to leave her be for a bit. She gave a snicker at that. In a way, they were right. Yesterday's rematch and all, the potential fallout and/or awkwardness, loomed large in her mind even as she got off at the Bristol exit. She wouldn't make things any easier if she was late to training. Last night's events or not, she would be expected on time.

And that was going to be a struggle now. By the time she pulled into the long circular drive in front of the Manor, the sky was a delicate shade of orchid. Not dark yet, thank God, but close enough. Pressing in the security code, Kala carefully pulled into the space reserved for Dick and locked the sports car up before booking it to the door to the house at nearly top speed. Uncle Bruce would've already started down to the Cave, dinner being well over, and the boys would be following suit shortly. Hoping no one noticed, she kicked in the super-speed and made it to the staircase and up to the third floor without running into anyone else. If she could just get to the bunker soon, maybe Jay would keep his mouth shut. About that, at least. There was no way of telling what kind of reception she'd get after last night. Or even if it would be acknowledged at all. Part of her couldn't decide which of the two she wanted.

Hitting the landing, Kala put on the brakes pretty hard, and simply hurried down the hall at only twice normal human pace, her mind ten steps ahead. Regardless, it shouldn't affect her training. She just had to get into her room, grab her bag, and run. The only option was going to be to super-speed to the bunker; she was cutting it too close to cab it back out to the Bowery, and didn't want to leave Dick's car even in the garage over there. Sure, Jay would give her hell for running that far behind, but—

Still lost in her own thoughts, she didn't see the figure coming out of the room to her left until they collided, both of them sent flailing from the crash to wind up sprawled out on the floor, limbs tangled up together, Kala's face getting up close and personal with hallway carpet. And someone's chest. _Shit. So much for being unnoticed._

"Ow, _fuck,"_ the other person cursed, rolling partly away from her, and Kala's eyes widened as she pushed herself up on one elbow hurriedly, realizing their legs were still halfway tangled together. The sight that greeted her was the last thing she was expecting.

" _Jay?"_ She could only stare at him, floored, as he reached up to rub at his left shoulder with a wince. "Wait. What? What are you doing _here?_ I was supposed to meet you at the bunker in like two minutes." Still trying to figure out exactly where they stood right now, running late on top of everything else, and she'd laid him out on his ass. Man plans, God laughs. Her day was just getting better and better, wasn't it?

Jay just groaned again, still rubbing at his shoulder, and finally fixed her with a pointed look. "Surprise!" he said, sarcasm dripping from the word. "You're back with Daddy Bats and the Robin Triplets tonight. Congrats, it's graduation day."

Nothing he'd said quite registered with Kala, staring at him like he was speaking a foreign language. For the second time in five minutes, she was thrown for a loop. "Huh? Graduation day?"

Rolling his eyes, Jay pushed himself up on an elbow, bringing them even closer, and looked Kala straight in the eyes. "Taught you all I can, okay? Student becomes the master—or at least kicks the master's ass. You're good to go."

Kala could only sit there and blink at him, still working through the snarky words and flippant attitude. Wow, okay. Jay had decided to take two steps back and start being defensive again after last night. So much for all the worry she had put into what would come next. _Great_. She scowled a little, about to protest his being a jerk, when Jay's actual words finally sunk in. He meant that they wouldn't be training together anymore.

Now the scowl melted into a confused frown, hazel eyes widening. Wait, what? They'd finally reached a point where he had stopped bitching about her performance, approved of her all-around, had to admit that they might not completely hate each other, and he was ditching her? Hot on the heels of last night? The thought shouldn't have made her chest tighten and her stomach lurch in betrayal, but it did.

"Thanks for the concern, by the way. I'm fine," Jay groused at her as he started to get up from the floor, sliding his foot free from the tangle of their legs.

It took a minute to keep from firing off a temperamental salvo, but she bit it off. Something more was going on here and she had a sneaking suspicion she knew what. Better not to corner him on it now; better to get him alone later when he wasn't as prickly. Kala shook her head, and got up as well. "Shit. Yeah, sorry. Wasn't expecting anyone up here at this hour. I didn't break anything, did I?"

"Nah. I'll live. Just a bruised shoulder," Jay said, rolling his shoulder to illustrate.

And that's when Kala finally noticed that he was in his Hood uniform, minus the jacket, domino, and helmet … that were probably all in the duffel bag that had gone flying further down the hall in their collision. That was another thing that was messing with her; he'd never even mentioned the fact that he was going to be here tonight. And here he was acting like this was the status quo. Seriously, what the hell was going on? It was on the tip of her tongue to question him again, but now wasn't the time. "So … you were headed down, weren't you?" she asked.

Jay shrugged. "More or less. It's about time you showed up, anyway. Bruce said you had more band stuff you were doing? Thought you were done with that shit now?"

That earned him the glare that she'd been attempting to hold back for the last five minutes. God, he was pushing his luck tonight. "Yeah, well. Big tour coming up in a couple weeks, remember? Not much time left, so real life starts to intrude. But they're leaving me alone 'til I leave now." That sounded so lame, but it irritated her that he was pushing her away like this. "Anyway, I don't want to talk about it."

One corner of Jay's mouth lifted in a soft smirk. "I guess not. Well, you better hurry, or Bruce is gonna leave you here," he finished, stepping away to retrieve his bag.

As confused and agitated as she was, the sudden lack of his presence beside her left Kala feeling … bereft. Cold.

Well, she didn't like that, or what it meant, one bit. Opening her mouth, Kala made the decision to call him on the carpet for it now instead of waiting, but for once, the words wouldn't come. All she could manage was to watch him disappear down the stairs, before turning to head to her room and get changed herself.

…

Jay hadn't even had time to hit the locker room and finish suiting up down in the Cave, his duffel still slung over his shoulder, when Kala appeared out of nowhere, coming to an abrupt halt at the base of the stairs that led up to the study, her high ponytail whipping back and then forward in an arching curl with the sudden deceleration.

He hadn't ever felt his mouth go so dry so fast in his life, either, seeing her like that. Somehow, it was about a hundred times better than her quick blur the night before. Had to be the super-confidence she was exuding. Yeah. That.

"Ready to roll," she announced, propping her hands on her hips as if she was posing for another magazine shoot. He couldn't help but notice that she has deliberately keeping her back to him. "What do you think?"

Bruce merely glanced up from his last-minute work at the Cave's computer—checking details on where Jay had set up the meet with his contact, having insisted on handling the meet himself, the fucker—his eyes concealed behind the white lenses of the cowl, and gave a nod, humming in approval. "Good armoring and support choices. And speedster boots. Those should come in handy."

Kala grinned crookedly—a look that Jay was sure he'd seen on Big Blue's face a time or two, not that he really wanted to make that connection right now, with the way the previous night had gone—and gave him wink. "Yep. Jay apparently has an eye for design. Who knew? It's a hell of a lot more creative than some of the stage clothes I've worn and it'd save time to do it while I'm here. Maybe I'll just get him to hook me up," she teased.

"I'm no seamstress," Jay groused halfheartedly, as Dick and Tim emerged from the locker room, changed and ready to go, and got their first look at Kala's new getup.

Both of them let out twin wolf-whistles, and Dick grinned as he stepped over to size her up. "Not bad," he said appreciatively, rubbing his chin thoughtfully and lifting an eyebrow over his blue domino. "It's like Huntress meets Catwoman meets the Flash. I like it."

Something sharp spread out from Jay's chest at Dick's obvious leering, and he ground his teeth involuntarily. Kala's smirking grin in return didn't help.

But then he pulled a deep breath in through his nose, and forced himself to back the hell off. Kala had told him there was nothing between her and Dick. He had to believe that. And besides, Dick was humming in approval over the _uniform._ Duh. It was no secret that Golden Boy was a clothes horse, and had a flair for the theatrical. He'd come from a _circus,_ for fuck's sake.

Jesus, Jay needed to get a goddamn grip.

Pushing a hand through his hair as Dick, Tim, and Kala cooed over the various features of the suit, he shook his head. "Guess I get no love for making the damn thing?" he grumbled.

Dick's grin as he looked up from where he'd been inspecting the bodice struck Jay squarely. "Are you kidding? This is _awesome!_ Since when can you even sew, Jaybird?"

Jay rolled his eyes, even as he felt his cheeks start to warm up at the backhanded praise. "Since Alfred taught me when I was fourteen, asshat."

A laugh, and Dick stepped over and punched Jay in the shoulder. "Good job, little bro."

"Who you calling 'little'?" Jay shot back with a smirk. But he couldn't help his expression softening into a little smile, and added, "Thanks," just under his breath, before Dick moved off to descend the two flights of metal stairs to the auto level, Tim following suit after asking Kala a few questions about the tech in her uniform.

Figured that Tim was more interested in the technical details, Jay thought as he finally headed into the locker room to finish dressing and gearing up. The kid was too cerebral for his own good. And a tattle tale, to boot. Though, Jay was sure it had been both his brothers that had spilled all the details about his past love life to Kala. Whatever. There'd be time for payback later.

For now, Jay had a domino to affix and his jacket to slip on, along with his white gloves. Five knives to finish stowing in his jacket, in his belt, in his boots. A grapple gun to attach to his belt. Two guns to check, load, and re-holster—though one was a specialized tranq gun, so it didn't really count. His comm unit to tuck into his left ear. And finally the belt itself, with all his other personalized Batty goodies, snapped and locked into place. All that was left was his helmet, and he'd put that on when they headed out.

With the helmet in hand, he shoved his empty bag into his locker and shut the metal door, looking up to find Kala at her own locker, busily stocking the few hidden pockets in her uniform with her own assortment of Batty toys, a little frown tugging on her lips as she glanced over at him.

"What?" he asked quietly.

Tucking her comm unit into her ear, she took a moment before she looked up at him, those eyes more telling than her uneasy expression. "Nothing. Just. This was unexpected. Tonight's plan was roof-running, last I checked, not back on patrol with the rest of the clan. Just trying to readjust to the sudden switch-up." Then one corner of her mouth lifted, almost mischievously, when she tilted her chin up at him. "Why do I get the feeling like you're trying to get rid of me, Red?"

Well. Shit. Jay had known this was coming. He'd learned to read Kala well enough to know that she wasn't totally joking.

A deep breath, and Jay passed his helmet from one hand to the other—not nervously, dammit—and lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "As if. But little birds gotta fly the nest sooner or later, right? It's your time, K. Besides, don't you wanna show these guys what you've learned?"

A wrinkle appeared between her brows, and her lips thinned for a moment. Enough so that he was starting to wonder if she was going to cry bullshit on him. He couldn't blame her, really. The intense gaze went on forever before she sighed. She wasn't happy with the situation, that much was clear. "Your timing is all too suspect, sir," she murmured archly, but she relented with a smallest smile. "And 'little bird', huh? I don't remember getting the official family letterhead."

Jay shrugged again, unable to help his own small smile. "You train with the Robins, you're a Robin. You got Bat experience. You're one of us now."

That widened those hazel eyes more than usual and her still-strained expression softened a little more. Looked like he rattled her again with that one. Didn't make it less true, though. Kala opened her mouth to reply, but Bruce's stern voice cut her off from further out in the Cave. "Let's go. Quit wasting time, Jason."

A roll of his eyes, and Jay gave Kala one last smirk before turning to head down to the auto level. "Come on, K. You're with me," he said as he slipped his helmet on, latching it closed.

Again, Bruce interrupted. "Kala's with Tim tonight. Jason, you're with Dick."

Looking down the stairs at the dark form ahead of him, Jay scowled behind the smooth red face of the helmet. "Since when? It'll be easier if she tags along with me."

But Bruce didn't even bother to glance back up at him, just continued on his way. Naturally. No explanation was necessary; he was the goddamned Batman, after all. His word was law, at least in Gotham.

Knowing the rebuff for what it was, Jay followed him out, quietly seething. _He_ was the one who'd spent the last month training Kala, _he_ was the one who knew her strengths and weaknesses best, so why the fuck was Daddy Bats splitting them up tonight?

Couldn't be because of the meeting that Jay had set up with his informant for intel on Black Mask's operation; not like Jay was gonna be in on it anyway. So, what then? And why should he even give a crap?

He tried to tell himself the tightness in his chest was annoyance at Bruce. It felt too much like anxiety over Kala being out of his sight for comfort.

…

Being unexpectedly back on patrol with the boys had Kala off-balance. It had been just her and Jay for long enough that they knew each other's moves and moods perfectly, could coordinate an attack with the bare minimum of words exchanged. Now she had to adjust again, to Tim's style.

Although … training with Jay had made it easier for her to cope. His fast and dirty methods had been so different from the rest of the clan that Kala had had to develop more adaptability. Tim didn't have Jay's height or weight, but he was agile and quick, and kept up with Kala's pace easily as long as she didn't push the powers. He didn't have Dick's flair for the acrobatics, either, but he was more efficient—more like Bruce, come to think of it.

As they were getting into position for the evening, running easily along the rooftops, they came to larger gap between buildings. With a two-lane street below, traffic sounds drifting up to them, Kala leaped into space unhesitatingly. She drew her knees up to her chest, curled into a ball as she somersaulted in midair, and once she'd done a complete 360 she kicked out as if springing off of thin air. The move hid the tiniest touch of her flight, making it appear that she'd crossed the gap unaided.

Kala caught the opposite building's parapet and somersaulted onto level ground again. Tim, who'd used the grappling gun to swing across, laughed as he realized what she'd done. "Nice work."

"Thanks. Keep 'em guessing."

As they got closer to their assigned patrol, they slowed to a walk. The run had been a nice warm-up, forcing Kala's confusion over Jay out of her head for the moment. Only for the moment, though—the bewildered hurt continued to lurk in the back of her brain, part of her wondering why he'd been so cold to her after he was so very warm the night before. But again, she ruthlessly shoved the thoughts away, focusing instead on patrol. She couldn't let her heart rule her head, not in the line of fire.

"Suit's working out pretty well for you," Tim remarked.

"Yeah. Lot more flexibility, whole lot easier to get into," Kala replied, dropping automatically into the Bats' clipped communication style.

"Did you get to run a full test on it?" he asked.

"Well, not rooftops yet," Kala admitted. "We sparred a little, and it held up fine."

"Have to work in a rooftop spar before you go," Tim said, then nodded. "This corner up ahead." He peered cautiously over the edge, sighted his landing, and dropped. It never ceased to amaze Kala how fearless they all were. The boys and Bruce didn't have her powers, and if they missed a landing, they had only a quick shot from the grappling gun to save them. Yet they went out every night and did things that would make any sane person piss themselves, all while acting like it was routine.

She supposed it _was_ routine, for them. Pausing, Kala crouched on the edge, then dropped to land just beside Tim. Together, they perched on one of the city's massive gargoyles, this one looking like an enormous winged lion. Kala tested her weight against the wing joint and leaned forward, bracing her hands on the carved mane. After the Bowery, this was starting to look pretty tame. Oh, how far she'd come in six weeks. "Looks pretty quiet."

"Just wait," Tim said, his lips quirking up in a wry smile. That was the running in-joke in Gotham. Much like Seattle's weather changing every five minutes, the threat level in Gotham could change in a heartbeat.

Kala settled in, both of them hidden in the shadows of the lion's wings. She'd had her very first training session here, how to keep herself in a state of primed awareness without fidgeting, being bored, or getting sleepy. In a way, it made perfect sense for her first formal lesson as a warrior to be a form of meditation.

Tim, of course, chose that moment to screw with her. "So I hear Jason really enjoyed seeing that _GQ_ in the break room at work."

Biting back her first inclination to kick him in the ankle—probably not a good idea, even with a Robin's balance—Kala just grinned back poisonously. It wasn't as if she didn't know who had pointed out that the thing was out. "Actually, for him, Iguana Man took it exceedingly well." In fact he'd wailed in horror for only about five minutes before grumpily accepting that it was part of her job and admitting that she _had_ warned him beforehand.

"Imagine how he reacted when I told him we'd seen it already," Tim said. "Had to remind him who we are and why _GQ_ is necessary to our cover."

Why were boys so damn petty? "Let me guess? Straight to the phone after we finished in the garage?" He grinned back at her. Like she didn't already know. "I should've expected nothing less. You can be such a dick sometimes, Timmy."

"Confusing me with big brother again," he told her, and she did feint a kick at him then.

"Both of you are equally obnoxious. It's a good thing I grew up with two dads and a brother or I'd never be able to handle the testosterone poisoning."

"Speaking of testosterone poisoning, how have things been with Todd?"

At the tone, Kala couldn't help but bristle. And they were back to that again. Would she never not be annoyed by the dynamics in this family? She didn't bother to hide it when she responded, "Not bad, _Drake._ Things have settled out since the tactical retraining. Why do you ask?"

He cut her a look and went back to surveying the street. "He really put you through the wringer, didn't he? Just couldn't forget about that broken nose. And then all of sudden you stopped coming home bruised. I wondered what changed."

Something moved below, but Kala's keen vision caught that it was just a stray cat checking out a garbage can. "You've got it wrong, Tim. That's what I thought in the first place, too, but he wasn't what he was really up to. Hell, I think breaking his nose was the first thing he _liked_ about me, honestly, as much as it pissed him off. All he wanted was to make me aware of the darker side of things. And the longer I trained, the more I saw he had a point. I'm more aware of what's out there now. I won't make the same mistakes."

"Never liked his methods," was all Tim said.

"And I get that. But you'd never pull a gun on me. Especially without powers," Kala told him. "But the scum down there _would_. I need that kind of training. High time I learned to dodge bullets for real. Remember when Jase lost his powers? Yeah, let's not have a repeat of that if we can help it."

Tim's cowled head turned toward her sharply. "Wait a minute. He pulled a _gun_ on you?"

Realizing she'd given that detail away abruptly crossed Kala's irritation threshold. "Someone had to eventually. Look, I _chose_ to train with him. Once I got an idea of what it was like, I could've backed out. He even tried to run me off. But I didn't. And I'm better for it, Tim, better than I ever would've been without it. If I'm training here, I need to know all sides of it, even the gutters and sewers."

"You didn't need _that_ ," Tim groused. "I'm amazed he had the audacity to try that. Your father would level the city if you'd gotten shot."

She sighed then, closing her eyes. Did they ever get tired of squabbling with one another? "Tim, no one cares or even knows who my dad is here. Or they shouldn't. And Jay was pretty determined not to. I needed that, too. I _wanted_ that. You guys have yet to explain exactly what the hell is going on between the three of you and I'm not choosing sides. So you can just—"

She cut off mid-sentence, staring down at the stray cat. It had moved into the street and suddenly frozen, which drew her attention as much as an abrupt movement would've. Even from this distance, she could see its ears flatten to its skull before it reversed direction and bolted, tail fluffed to twice the normal size. Tim was saying something, but she didn't hear him, just muttered, "The street, northeast."

He switched into full patrol mode instantly, eyeing the street. Kala listened intently, screening out the normal Gotham night music. Televisions, voices, washing machines, car engines, horns, tires on pavement, arguments, dishwashers, lovemaking, radios, dogs barking, and then there it was, right nearby, a man's grunt of pain.

She didn't have x-ray vision enough to see through the building ahead, but there was an alley there, and the sound she'd picked out was followed by muffled thumps like fists on clothed flesh. "Mugging," she said to Tim, and no sooner were the words out than she was on the move.

A leap from her crouched position with a boost from her strength, and she landed on the six-inch-wide stringcourse of the opposite building. Luckily she'd left the trench behind due to the weather, or it would've hindered her jump. Kala finished climbing to the roof using lintels and every projecting brick she could, then ran across the roof and vaulted the opposite parapet, all the while keeping tabs on the situation with her hearing. "I don't have—" the victim groaned, before gasping.

That was when Kala caught herself with one foot on a windowsill, and altered her drop for the last thirty feet so as to land right behind the tall, heavyset mugger. "Lovely night for going to jail, isn't it?" she said pleasantly.

The man whipped around, and Kala landed a solid punch on his chin, what Jay had always referred to as the knockout button. She held back on the strength, though; it wasn't worth breaking his jaw.

His victim staggered to his feet, took one look at Kala in her black catsuit and domino mask, and started to stammer his thanks. "Just get home safe," Kala told him curtly, and used her speed to apparently vanish from his sight, leaping up to the nearest windowsill.

It wasn't wise to stand around accepting adulation from the people you saved. That meant another bad guy could be sneaking up on you, and Bruce had lectured her about the time the Penguin had arranged for one of his own men to be brutally beaten by two other employees, just to bait a trap.

The victim fled the scene, and Kala landed again beside the still-unconscious mugger just as Tim did. He looked over the man and nodded. "Nice. Fast, slick, professional."

"Why, thank you," Kala said, zip-tying the mugger's wrists and ankles before checking his pockets. "Oh look, he's got five or six wallets on him. All with different IDs and credit cards. Shall we call this one in and move on?"

Tim nodded in curt agreement, pulling out one of his burn phones, and Kala let herself smile. First bust of the night: Blur and Robin one, thugs nada.

…

Chilling on the edge of a rooftop in Crime Alley, Jay kept one eye on the street below and one on his entirely too quiet older brother. Two hours out, and he still wasn't too happy about being separated from Kala tonight, thoughts of what sort of crapfest she and Tim might get caught up in on the other side of town running nervous circles in his head, despite his best efforts to keep a lid on it. But he had to keep forcing it all to the back-burner, or else he was gonna go nuts. Again. He just knew it. Kala was a smart chick; she'd know to call if they needed backup, and she could handle herself damn well in a fight. The faint bruise on the center of his chest proved it.

"You're still stewing over Blur being sent out with Robin, aren't you?"

Dick's sudden question caught him off guard, hitting him right where it hurt, and he had to stomp down on the urge to spit something nasty at him in reply, instead glaring from behind his helmet. "What of it?" he said brusquely; no point in denying it now.

A grin, and Dick shook his head. "Too easy. You only decided to hang around so you could babysit her. Got too attached, didn't you?"

That hit entirely too close to home, and yet, wasn't even close. Jay just clenched his jaw in frustration, willing the night to go faster so he could just find out how that meet had gone. Yeah, that was it. Exactly.

Sounding more compassionate than sarcastic, Dick continued, "It's not like I haven't seen it before, Red. Blur's the first one you've trained. That leaves a mark on a person."

"So?" Jay finally spat. "What exactly do you want me to say, Wing? If things go sideways, I'll feel responsible? Yeah, sure. If she gets in over her head, it's all my fucking fault."

Dick shook his head again, the teasing completely gone now. "That's not all, and you know I know you know it, so don't bother bluffing. You've grown _attached_ to her. In a personal way. And that's not unusual, either."

Jay barely kept himself from hauling off and throttling Dick at that. Everybody always thought they knew every damn thing. "That's none of your business whether I'm 'personally attached' to her or not. Just like it's none of B's business. Goddammit, can't anybody keep their noses out of other people's shit around here?"

At that, Dick's voice softened. "Not when it involves people we care about. And I'm talking about both of you."

And something clicked in Jay's head. Fuck, he should've known. "You were the one that told her about Troia, aren't you?" he shot back. "You tried to warn her off me, is that it? Real brotherly."

A shocked look passed over Dick's face, and he sighed resignedly. "We don't want either of you getting hurt, little bro. Just thought it'd be a good idea if she knew what she was getting into."

"Jesus _fuck,_ Wing, you had no right to do that!" Jay growled, this time getting to his feet and looming over Dick, hands clenched into fists at his sides. "You have no idea what really happened with me and Troia, or with me and Ravager, for that matter."

"I got a pretty good idea," Dick said, keeping his tone even as he looked up at Jay from his perch on the roof's balustrade. "Things went screwy. And she was messed up for a long time afterward. Tried to hide the way she'd cry whenever your name was brought up. What else is there to know?"

It struck Jay then that Dick and Donna had been best friends for longer than Jay had been a member of the family. Of _course_ he'd side with her. Of _course_ he'd think he knew the whole story, because he'd gotten Donna's version of events, and her word was as golden as he was.

"You know _nothing,_ Wing. Things fell apart because we couldn't just do 'normal' together. That's all. She wanted a place to settle, outside of Gotham, and I couldn't do that. She wanted me to give up being Red Hood, and I couldn't do that, either. She thought she was getting Dickie-bird version two-point-oh, and I just wasn't _that."_ Seething, he stopped himself there; no way was he gonna tell Dick that she'd even said Dick's name once when they'd been in bed together. Golden Boy had enough of an ego as it was, and Jay had already said too much.

For a long moment, Dick just stared up at him, his mouth agape, as if the truth had finally gotten through. About damn time. Jay could practically see the realizations falling into place. Then Dick got to his feet slowly, and settled a hand on Jay's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Jay. I … I didn't know. I'm really sorry." And with a little sigh, he reached around and pulled Jay into an awkward hug. "I just didn't know, man. I swear."

"Yeah, well … " Jay muttered under his breath, reluctantly accepting the hug—God, Dick was such a hugger, it was ridiculous—and even allowing himself to return it a little. "Guess I can forgive you for being an ass."

Dick pulled back, holding Jay by the arms, and grinned again. "Thank goodness. I was thinking I was gonna have to go to drastic measures!" he said, teasing.

"I think the hug was drastic enough."

"Then my plan worked," Dick added with a decisive nod. Settling back down on the ledge, he tugged Jay down with him. "You ever gonna tell me where the two of you and Kyle disappeared to, by the way? It's like the biggest mystery of the whole cape and cowl community. I know you worked with her and Kyle, but then suddenly you three just vanished, and nobody ever mentioned it once you turned back up."

At that, Jay blew a breath out his nose. He'd managed to avoid the topic for years, but what was even the point of keeping it to himself anymore? Shrugging, he shook his head, wishing he had a cigarette. "I'll spare you the details, but suffice it to say we were sent on a wild goose chase searching for Ray Palmer."

"The Atom?" Dick asked, his brow furrowing over his domino.

"Yep. Had a tip that things were gonna go sideways in the worst way unless he used his shrinking mojo to fix some shit with the whole universe. As in, kiss _all_ our asses goodbye. We eventually found him, after nearly getting our asses handed to us all over the place, and the dude was living the good life out in Montana. Had no clue what was going on. Turned out we'd been had. It was some Apokoliptan bullshit to try to kidnap Ray and use him against our end of the universe. Really fucked up shit." Jay shrugged again. "So instead of calling in the big guns, like we shoulda, me and Donna and Kyle took on the problem ourselves. Biggest clusterfuck ever." That was hard enough to say, but it kept Dick from wondering just what else had happened there. Nothing could've made Jay tell him what Donna had seen in an alternate world.

"God, Jay … why didn't you ever tell anyone about this?" Dick said, his eyes wide as he leaned close and lowered his voice. "Why did you think you had to do that yourselves?"

Jay scowled beneath his helmet. "Would _you_ go around telling everyone about your biggest fuck-up ever? We thought we could handle it. And besides, everyone else was busy with that earthquake-tsunami thing in the Pacific at the time. Didn't think it made sense to pull people off that when we technically had the manpower to handle the situation."

Dick's eyebrows shot up even higher beneath his hair, and he sat up straighter. "Oh. _Oh._ Damn, Jay … that is seriously heavy."

Another shrug, and Jay smirked. "Yep. So, now you know why Donna kept bawling. It was _complicated,"_ he added with air quotes. If Dickie-bird ever found out just _how_ complicated, it wouldn't be from Jay.

At that, Dick actually let out a small laugh. "Okay. Point. Still think you should've told us, but I'll concede that maybe I was … wrong about things."

"Well, will wonders never cease," Jay quipped, still mentally itching for a cigarette, his fingers twitching involuntarily as if flicking ashes. "Wing admits he mighta been _wrong_ about something, film at eleven."

"Shut up, Red," Dick shot back, his small smile growing into another grin as he reached over and punched Jay in the shoulder lightly. "You're such a brat."

"Takes one to know one."

Snorting, Dick shook his head, then fell quiet for a long moment, silence stretching out between them.

Jay was surprised to find it to be not-so-tense. It was … strange. But good.

"So," Dick started again after a while, a mischievous smirk moving over his face that told Jay he was about to say something nuts. "You and Kala, huh?"

And there it was, the million fucking dollar question. Jesus fuck, Jay wanted to tear his hair out just contemplating it, especially with _Dick_ grilling him over it. "You're a real pain in the ass, you know that?" Jay said. But then he sighed. "I don't know. Maybe. She isn't the pretty little princess I thought she was."

Dick snorted again. "I coulda told you _that,_ Jaybird. She's as tough as they come."

There was too much admiration in his tone. Giving Dick the side-eye through his helmet, he couldn't help asking, "You sure you're not into her?"

At that, Dick blinked, wide-eyed, and exploded in laughter. "Oh my God, are you serious? Me? And _K?_ She's sweet, Red, but way too real for my tastes. Besides, we're too much alike." Pausing, he shuddered. "It'd be like dating myself, and that's _way_ too creepy."

This time Jay snorted, letting out a laugh of his own. "You thought about it, though."

"Yeah, for a couple minutes. You've been thinking about it a lot more than that," Dick shot back.

"Shut up," was all Jay could growl.

"You really do have it bad for her, don't you? I mean, training her is one thing; you must've really been hit by the crazy bus to take that on, but the suit? You had to have worked straight through for _days_ to get that done. And please, give me some credit and don't try to deny it; been there, done that."

Dick's observations hit Jay right in the solar plexus, and he could swear he felt the bruise on his chest start to throb. Damn him for knowing Jay that well. Damn him for being right.

Heaving a sigh, Jay scowled again, searching for the right words. Naturally, the thought of Kala stole his ability to communicate in anything other than innuendos and grunts. "She's … really something else," he finally managed, feeling his pulse hammer in his veins. "She doesn't put up with any of my crap. She's a hell of a fighter. Gives as good as she takes. And she likes guns," he added, smiling a little at the memory of their target practice in the garage. "And … and, shit, she can probably hear every fucking word we're saying," he finished, his pulse turning to ice as he realized he'd probably just done the equivalent of confessing his undying love for her. "Fuck." With a groan, he smacked his helmet and laid his head in his hands. "I am so fucking screwed."

Though it was the first time he'd said it out loud, the sentiment was no less true now than it had been the first night he'd realized that something was there between them, after he'd brought her back to the Manor and tucked her in. Why did everything seem to have stemmed from that one damn night?

Beside him, Dick just laughed. "Yep, you've got it bad, little bro. Just … don't fuck it up with her, okay? None of us want to catch the fallout from that."

That brought Jay's attention back up. "Why the hell does everybody think I'm gonna wreck everything?" he groused. "Kala's a big girl, she can make her own damn decisions, and I have no intention of letting things go sideways, okay?"

Dick smirked at him with one raised eyebrow. "Oh, I know. We'd just prefer you didn't purposefully piss off the most volatile Super, all right? You cross her, Kala's liable to boot you into orbit."

One corner of Jay's mouth tugged upward. "Touché. All right, then. I promise not to get us all killed by crossing the big bad Kryptonian. That work for ya?"

A nod, and Dick hummed thoughtfully. "I suppose. Just don't overplay your hand, Red, and—"

The sound of a gunshot cut him off, and both of them snapped to. Another shot echoed through the neighborhood, along with a scream of bloody terror, and in another second, Jay had a grapple line shot off to hit the next rooftop across the street, following the sound.

Beside him, Dick touched his comm and called out, "O, gunshots in southwest, vicinity of Thirty-Third and High Street. Alert GCPD," before shooting his own grapple line to follow Jay.

The rest of their conversation could wait; they had a shooter to take down.

…

Towards the end of patrol, the score was Blur and Robin four, thugs zip. Also, eavesdropping zero, karma one—Kala had tried during a quiet moment to listen in to Jay and Dick, hoping to hear an honest evaluation of her progress. Instead she'd heard them talking about Jay's relationship with Donna. She'd refocused her hearing in a hurry; there was a touch of pain in Jay's voice that made listening in reprehensible. But she'd heard enough to tell her that the bust-up there hadn't been one-sided.

That had been enough to convince her she didn't want to know, even if it had been her business at all. Kala kept ruthlessly to the mission after that. Tim was the hardest of the boys to impress, and his approval meant a lot. To her surprise, she didn't have to work to prove herself; Tim seemed quietly amazed.

"You're far more efficient in tactical matters than you were before," he remarked during a lull.

That was Tim, praise forever wrapped up in high-flown jargon that most people misunderstood. "I'll take that for the compliment it is," Kala said, flashing him a knowing grin. Having the improvement acknowledged was its own kind of award, especially since it had come unprompted. "There _is_ a time and a place for flashy moves, just not here and now, not yet." She had no intention of telling him she'd taken down one of Black Mask's lieutenants with something from a dance routine. His brain would implode.

Scanning their surroundings then, Tim stiffened minutely. "Drug deal, your three," he muttered without much enthusiasm. Crime was crime, but did the sale of one or two rocks of crack really deserve Bat-intervention? Besides, it was more efficient to go after the distributors. The street-level dealers and buyers were small potatoes. If they wanted to have any real effect, they'd need to strike further up the food chain, and they usually did.

But still, crime was crime, and this was on their watch. So Kala turned to look at her three o'clock, and saw a car roll to a stop, the dealer sauntering out from where he'd been leaning against a chain-link fence surrounding a construction site. He looked like a typical dealer: backwards cap, a white t-shirt, saggy jeans, gang-colored bandanna in his back pocket, high-top sneakers, and a ton of bling. She was trained enough now to spot his weapons from his ambling gait: one gun in the small of his back, probably a cheap automatic, and a smaller piece in his sock, neither very well concealed at all.

Kala narrowed her eyes, focusing more intently. The scene seemed to kick into high-speed as the buyer flashed a handful of bills, and the dealer reached into one of his pockets. "Sale's made," Kala said. "Dealer's armed; he's mine."

"Go," Tim said, approving of her plan. With that both of them rose, leaped to the opposite roof, and dropped in unison into the middle of the deal. Tim used the roof of the buyer's car to break his fall, tumbling onto the hood with practiced ease. Kala just straight-dropped, landing on her feet, and grinned beneath her domino at how light the impact was. She didn't even make a sound, and was able to grab the dealer's shoulder and whirl him around into her first while he was still staring at Tim.

Another two criminals bagged and tagged for GCPD, quick and efficient, and as Tim called this one in, Bruce's voice came over the comm. "All teams rendezvous at HQ," he said. "Call it a night."

…

When Jay roared into the Cave on his bike, pulling up alongside Tim and Kala as they dismounted the Baby Bird's Ducati, Dick trailing just behind them all, he was surprised to find his chest tightening rather than relief hitting him at the sight of his … student. He should've been breathing easy just seeing that she'd survived a night on the town without him, but the talk he'd had with Dick was still way too fresh in his mind for him to not worry that Kala had heard it all.

And didn't that just make him the biggest baby _ever?_ Goddamn, he needed to get a grip.

As he unlatched his helmet and slipped it off, following K and Timmy up the stairs to the main Cave level, Kala half-turned to glance back down at him, her expression seeming to be carefully neutral. "What's up with you, Red? You've been staring a hole in me ever since you parked your bike."

A part of Jay wanted to shoot back, 'have not!', but he reined in the impulse, that thirteen-year-old Jay in his head laughing at him again. Running a hand through his sweat-matted hair, he smirked. "Just surprised you made it through the night," he said instead.

There was no defensive glare this time. Quite the contrary, Kala just rolled her eyes and snorted amusement as they continued up. "Oh, really? You think so little of your own handiwork? You don't give yourself enough credit, you ass."

"Nope. Surprised you didn't land some poor gang kid in the hospital with a brutal chest-punch."

"What, you still recovering from last night? Am I too much for you to handle?" she shot back over her shoulder archly, pouting at him mockingly. Neither of them missed the little dig there she was hiding from the others, but she was clearly just teasing. Her blood had to still be up from busting heads, that smirk irresistible.

"Shut up," he countered, smirking and tossing his gloves at her when they reached the main level. She caught the gloves with ease, laughing, until a throat clearing caught their attention and cut off their teasing.

"If you're both finished?" Bruce grumbled from his chair at the computer station, clearly waiting impatiently for the two of them to grow up. Jay just thought it was hilarious; it'd probably been ages since anyone with a good sense of humor had hung around this place, and he couldn't deny that his thirteen-year-old self was having a ball, even if he wanted to flatten the kid for turning him into a giant brain-dead mush-ball over Kala.

When they both nodded, Kala actually looking a little sheepish—even though she cut Jay a smirk when B turned away—Daddy Bats sighed under his breath and hit a few keys on the computer to call up a screen displaying building blueprints. Exceedingly complex blueprints that Jay hadn't yet been able to get his own hands on.

Jay had wondered if B had been able to get those tonight. His informant must've come through after all, even if it'd taken a little extra greasing and intimidation to get him to agree to keep working with them, and to agree to do the meet with the Bat rather than Red Hood.

"As per your intel, Jason, I was able to procure these from your contact within Black Mask's organization. They _are_ still operating the organ harvesting racket, only with supplies from out of state, since it appears their local supply was cut off," Bruce explained, giving Jay the barest glance as if to let him know that he knew what had happened that night.

"So that's what you were up to tonight?" Dick asked, leaning on the back of Bruce's chair. "I thought you'd found a nice corner of uptown to patrol, to keep us all out of your hair," he finished with a teasing grin.

Bruce shook his head. "I had to meet with the contact personally to get this. It was a delicate situation; didn't want to spook him."

Jay had to grind his teeth to keep from saying anything then. He'd been loathe to set up the meet with his personal contact, with how much work he'd put into cultivating him, and not be able to attend himself. Keeping a tight lid on the situation all damn night—thank fuck he'd had thoughts of Kala to distract him, and how that irony stung like a bitch—he'd had no other option than to let B do the meet alone. It sure as fuck hadn't been his first choice for how to handle the situation.

"As you can see here," B went on, heedless of Jay's irritation, "the main operating theater is on level four of Mask's five-story headquarters, the building adjacent to the warehouse where we intercepted the shipment last month. Mask's offices are on the top floor, northwest corner. Our mission will be to go in, gather as much physical intel as we can on the operation to hand over to GCPD, take as many of Mask's men into custody as we can, and free all of the victims. But we don't know _when_ they'll start harvesting. Until then, we have no case, and if we bust them too early they'll just move the operation somewhere else. To save lives, we have to hit them just before they start, and sweep up the surgeons and the transporters as they're prepping."

On the other side of Dick, Tim seemed to pale, his hands balling into fists. "I don't like not knowing when they plan to start this up. And what about Mask?"

Bruce shook his head. "I don't like it either, but our informant doesn't know. Apparently the schedule is fluid, depending on the buyers. As for Mask, it's highly unlikely that he'll be there. Even if he is, he probably has an escape route that isn't included in the plans here. But if we do manage to capture him, that's the extent of it. He'll be remanded to custody with the others."

Jay caught Tim's gaze with that, and he knew Tim was just as ready to put Mask in the ground as he was; it'd been _his_ girlfriend that Mask had nearly drilled to death, and it was only natural that he'd want some payback, even if Steph was currently out of the picture, off doing charity work with Doc Leslie somewhere in Africa. Nodding minutely, he silently let Baby Bird know that whatever happened, they were on the same side. Black Mask had to go _down,_ one way or another.

Even Kala had a determined look on her face, despite seeming a little green around the gills at the mention of the victims. Jay supposed she was with him and Timmy; a little retribution for the fight in the warehouse couldn't possibly come soon enough.

Bruce closed down the plans then, catching all their attention with a quietly stern look—his usual tactic for owning the room. "We'll start putting details for the raid together tomorrow, though we'll be treating the next few nights as regular patrols, to keep a low profile. Just know that this will be a team effort. Everyone will have a role to play."

Jay knew that'd been directed squarely at him and Kala for begging off the night before, and clenched his jaw to keep from saying anything stupid. Trading a look with K, he blew a breath out his nose. Fuck, they were never gonna live that down.

"Everybody rest up. The next few days will be busy ones."

Jesus fuck, the next couple of days were gonna be tense as hell. If he didn't know damn well that it was high time Mask got his, he'd have wished he hadn't decided to bring Kala back into the fold. What a way to end her training in Gotham.


	28. Far From the Madding Crowd

When Kala rolled over and tried to get comfortable for the umpteenth time, she happened to glance at the clock and saw it was three in the morning. With an aggravated sigh, she punched her pillow and got up. Sleep just wasn't coming tonight. Luckily the summer's training on top of the rockstar life had taught her to work on little sleep, so it wouldn't be a problem if she got up again. She might as well head downstairs, grab a snack, and wait for the sun to rise. Maybe she could peruse the estate library for something to read.

Once down in the kitchen, she quietly heated some water for the tea Alfred had bought her and found a sheet of cookies keeping warm in the oven for tomorrow morning. Kala couldn't help glancing around before she nabbed two, put them on a napkin, and headed into the library. She was already strolling along the stacks when she registered the accelerating heartbeat in the room with her, and turned around to see Jay sitting there on one of the twin leather sofas, staring at her like she was a ghost. She couldn't really blame him as she bit back a small smile; he wasn't the only one doing a startled double-take. Of everyone she expected to encounter here this late, Jay had been the last.

Obviously someone hadn't headed up to bed when the rest of them had gone. He was still dressed, though in blue jeans and a black tee rather than his Hood outfit, and realizing that made her uncomfortably aware of the fact that she'd just toddled down from bed in her pajamas, her hair all rumpled. Jay was looking at her like he really was the big bad wolf, and she was Little Red Riding Hood showing up with a basket of appetizers, unaware that she was the main course. And damn if it didn't make things just a little awkward, after their last session together. Kala forced that little thought away.

No point in acting like she hadn't seen him at this point. With a little smirk, she made her way over to set her tea and cookies down on the little coffee table. "Fancy meeting you here at this hour. What're you doing up, Red?" she asked.

"Couldn't sleep," he said shortly. "You? And what's up with the pajamas?"

Kala dropped herself down on the opposite end of the couch, reaching out for a random magazine from the stack on the table. The honest truth was, if she had run across Tim or Dick, she had the feeling she wouldn't have cared. Wasn't irony a beautiful thing? "The same, and I didn't expect any other weirdos to be up and around," she retorted, silently berating herself for the lack of foresight as she curled her feet up underneath her.

Jay snorted. "All we've got around this place is weirdos with strange sleep patterns. But I meant, what's up with the shield on the pants? Isn't that kind of a hint? Thought you were all about keeping a low profile."

Kala gave him a slightly sarcastic grin. That was Jay. If she felt awkward, leave it to him to find a sore spot to poke at. And the fact that she could only wear her family's crest on casual clothes was still a little sore. "Everyone in the family except my dad has them. Last check, I think Lizardboy is up to something like _five_ pairs. They're officially licensed, and the proceeds go to charity." She barely held back a sigh, running a hand through her hair. She didn't want to get defensive, but there was always the urge when someone in the know brought up the family crest. "Besides, my mom _is_ Lois Lane, and it's fairly public knowledge that Superman's my 'godfather'. I'm a known fan, anyway, since I'm a citizen of Metropolis and all. And it's not like that many people see me in my pajamas, besides."

Jay frowned a little, looking thoughtful. "Sucks that you can't wear it any other way."

Kala managed not to flinch at the blunt statement. She also managed to not make a stinging reply about him not wearing the Bat symbol, or the Robin symbol, either. Mostly because he was right and she knew it. Also knew too well now that he'd been so estranged from the family before that he'd probably felt disowned. It would be a low blow to mention it, especially since she knew it wasn't actually an attack.

A change of topic was needed and Kala made herself switch gears. She hadn't had time to find a book of her own, but that didn't mean she couldn't interrupt Jay's reading. It wasn't as if he didn't expect it. Or deserve it, now. "So what's on Red Hood's reading list this summer? _The Anarchist Cookbook_? Something from Clive Cussler or Lee Child that leaks pure testosterone if you squeeze it?"

Jay flipped his book over so she couldn't read the title, scowling at her. Kala just grinned, taking the move as a challenge. Before Jay saw what she was doing, she swiped it away faster than his eye could see. "Or maybe something racy … holy shit. _Far from the Madding Crowd_. Whoa." She blinked, staring at the cover, and then looked at Jay. "I stand corrected. I never would've guessed." Well, that had been a revelation. She'd known Jay was far more intelligent than he seemed to get credit for, but … wow. She honestly didn't know anyone who read classic lit for fun. But maybe that explained a few things, too.

"Yeah, yeah, the mold in my fridge isn't the only culture I've got," Jay snapped, snatching the book back. "You can't claim hipster status, either. You're into classic lit too, by that shirt." He jerked his chin toward the little top she was wearing, a giant Cheshire cat emblazoned across her chest.

Kala arched an eyebrow at him, and then turned from the waist so he could read the back, which proclaimed in Gothic font 'We're all mad here'. "I figured it was the most appropriate t-shirt for this house," she said with a smirk.

"Cute," Jay admitted, trying _not_ to stare at the sliver of pale skin that twisting around had exposed. "At least it's a change from the band t-shirts I've seen you wearing around here. Speaking of which, My Chemical Romance? Really?"

And now, Jay was giving the _professional musician_ shit about her taste in music. Then again, she was just now realizing that the two of them had never actually had a discussion that hadn't involved training or their families. Who knew what buttons he usually pushed in normal conversation? In the end, Kala just shrugged, not rising to the bait. "We opened for them a couple times. And I did _Black Parade_ with a cover band for my first official public performance. MCR is pretty damn good, if you actually get up close. Plus I've always loved their stuff, so what? Not everyone can be so endlessly hardcore they only listen to Megadeath and Pantera and Black Sabbath and whatever else is on your playlist, Red." She arched an eyebrow and smirked. "While reading Thomas Hardy, of course. Because you're a _gentleman_ badass."

"Whatever. And I'll have you know that there's Apocalyptica and Beethoven and Dido on my playlist, too, right along with Ozzie and Manson. I'm not a _complete_ Neanderthal. And I'm not so insecure I gotta worry about what I _read_ ," Jay spat back.

Leave it to Jay to get defensive when she turned the tables. She let it go. Somehow his reaction made him seem a little more human. Maybe it was the book, maybe it was the hour, maybe it had something to do with last night, but Kala found herself enjoying this unexpected not-so-confident side to him. A little contradiction in one's personality was never a bad thing, and it sure told her volumes about him that she hadn't yet seen. "Real men read whatever the fuck they want, is that it?" she teased, unable to resist a little laugh, and then she smiled again at the dark look he shot her. "That's a philosophy I can get behind, actually. More power to you. Most of the men I've known couldn't manage it or even admit to it. I gotta respect that."

That seemed to throw him off a little, and he looked at her warily. "And real women apparently eat stolen peanut butter cookies in the middle of the night," he said. "Alfred's gonna be pissed when he sees them missing."

Kala made a little _moue_ of distaste, clicking her tongue. "I beg to differ, Mr. Todd. He won't be _pissed_. Alfred Pennyworth has never experienced so undignified an emotion as being pissed. He may be disappointed—he may even be piqued—but I'll just tell him the truth: they smelled too good to resist."

"Sure, he'll believe that," Jay shot back. "Everybody knows he has a soft spot for the only girl in the house. He'll probably just nod and smile a little, and think it's _cute."_

A tiny flare of indignation rose up in Kala's chest at that. God, she hated that word. Why was it that boys always used that word like it was a live grenade to be lobbed at girls? "Bite me, Red. He will not." What was worse was knowing that the jerk was probably right.

"He totally will. And seeing how he's wrapped around your little finger, I might as well go take three and blame it on you," Jay taunted.

Kala narrowed her eyes. "Don't even try it, Hood. Alfred Pennyworth isn't wrapped around _anyone's_ finger, much less mine." She resisted pitching the copy of _National Geographic_ on the table at him. No point in ruining a perfectly good magazine, throwing it at his thick head. She paused then, thinking about how Alfred had seemed when all of them had been at breakfast the other morning, and softened her tone. "You could pull the same trick, you know. Alfred would let you get away with it, he's so glad to have you home. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, well," Jay muttered, and ducked his head away from the comment. "He probably made 'em thinking I'd get into them anyway."

"Oh, really?" Kala asked, one eyebrow lifting. The thought of Jay being a late-night snack thief wasn't one she'd expected. It was amazing the secrets that were slowly trickling out as the day wore on. As much as she had found herself liking the snarky, arrogant side of him more and more, this just deepened the intrigue. "Why do I get the feeling you used to have a penchant for getting caught with your hand in the cookie jar?"

Jay actually laughed, low and soft, still not meeting her gaze. She wouldn't tell him for anything, but Kala found herself liking that laugh. "A couple times, yeah. But they're peanut butter."

She felt a little smile float over her lips in spite of herself. "Yeah, so?" she prompted.

"They were my favorite."

Now _that_ was interesting. Kala couldn't help a little grin at Jay's admission. "The big bad Red Hood has a favorite _cookie?_ I was starting to think all you ate was nails and C4 and pancakes. Excuse me while my brain explodes."

At that, Jay finally cut his eyes back up to hers, his gaze hot. "Contrary to popular belief, I _was_ a kid once."

That was more fire than she'd expected from innocent teasing, dropping her into silence for a moment. It certainly explained more than Kala had bargained for. If it was odd for her to be back in the Manor full-time, it must've been even more unsettling for him to be back here at all, his years as Robin all coming back up like ghosts of his past. Actually, that was probably understating hugely. _Nice going, idiot. Obviously your_ _ **brain's**_ _asleep._ Switching tactics after a moment, she asked carefully, "So … why _are_ you still up, then? Since you obviously haven't gotten into the cookies, there must be another reason."

Jay looked at her for a long second and then said, "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

 _Typical._ _And typically dangerous lately, in his case._ At least that had taken some of that fire out of his eyes. Kala sighed, nibbling at her lower lip in agitation and figuring it wouldn't really hurt if she just got it out. Well, the part she felt comfortable with, at least. The less he knew about the other thoughts tumbling around in her head, thoughts that involved _him,_ the better off they would both be. After yesterday and how the whole dynamic had changed when he'd pulled her tight against him … yeah, she didn't dare think about that. Not right now. Kala ruthlessly shoved all that aside.

"Mine's the usual. Worrying about Black Mask, mostly," she admitted quietly, leaning further back into the sofa and pulling her knees up to her chin without a thought. "Brain's on repeat. Last time we went after him, I nearly got us both sliced and diced worse than we already were. But someone's gotta take him down, and it's what we do. And we'll have plenty of backup this time, you won't just be stuck with me, so it's pointless to worry. It's just making myself believe it." Shrugging, she fixed him with an intense look. "Your turn. Spill, Jay."

…

Setting his book to the side at last, Jay leaned forward, clasping his hands and returning Kala's look pointedly. "Not so fast," he said, catching the way she was fidgeting over her admission. "Don't think you're the first person to get all knotted up over a mission. It's hardly pointless to worry about it; going over it just makes sure your head's on straight when the hammer drops. And Mask is a really fucking nasty customer. He'll probably bolt, but we'll still have enough of his staff to deal with that it'll be ugly. Somebody'll probably get hurt," he said, lifting a shoulder slightly. "If we're lucky, no one will need more than a stitch or two. But this is the shit we've been training for, and you know damn well that you'll be light years better than you were in that warehouse. Just think about that, instead."

Across from him, Kala appeared stricken by his seeming words of wisdom—shit, maybe he _was_ turning into the wise old ninja master that she'd once called him teasingly—and sat gaping at him for the longest time. If he wasn't so wrapped up in making sure she didn't over-think it _too_ much, he'd have thought it was damn adorable.

And Jesus fuck, everything about her _was_ freakin' adorable anyway, from the bed-mussed hair to the soft, sleepy-eyed look, right down to her Superman pajama pants. Even the way her fitted tee hugged every curve, and—well, that wasn't so much adorable, as entirely too fucking sexy to contemplate without making his interest too obvious.

 _Focus, Jay,_ he scolded himself silently, as Kala seemed to chew over his words a little more. He couldn't let a few minutes of being all up in each other's space—of feeling the curves of her waist under his hands, of seeing the bright joy of a fight melt into something much warmer—screw him up now.

"Okay," she said at last, nodding just slightly. "I suppose I have no excuse not to kick those assholes into next week, then."

"See?" Jay smirked. "Nothing like a little ego boost to clear out the 'what ifs'."

At that, Kala laughed, and plucked one of the cookies off the napkin she'd set down on the table and took a bite, tilting her head as if trying to puzzle him out as she chewed. It was a different sort of look than she'd given him over the course of their training together, a lot more thoughtful, and less homicidal. He couldn't help liking it.

"So, we're back to you," she said then. "What's keeping the infamously unshakable Red Hood up at this hour?"

Blowing a breath out his nose, Jay averted his gaze and reached up to rub the back of his neck absently. "Like I said, couldn't sleep. Was too worked up over … stuff, so I figured I could use a drink. Only, Bruce keeps his liquor cabinet locked down tight, and I wouldn't want to chance it anyway; he's been known to fingerprint the bottles if any of them look tampered with."

Kala snorted, a sly grin moving over her face. "Don't tell me, got caught in Daddy's best thirty-year-old scotch?"

"If you must know," Jay said, giving her a mock-scowl, "it was his hundred-year-old brandy, and I was thirteen, and had the biggest hangover I've ever had in my life. The fingerprinting was just his way of proving to me that I couldn't get away with shit under his roof. Not that it stopped me from hitting the scotch later. Rubber gloves and a slow drain so as not to arouse suspicion are wonderful things."

At that, Kala blinked at him in what was clearly disbelief before she let out a full laugh, throwing her head back with it and exposing the long column of her throat. For a second, Jay had to resist the urge to lean all the way across the table and kiss her senseless. Jesus, he was totally fucked.

"You really were a little delinquent, weren't you?" she teased, looking at him with mirth in her eyes.

Jay smirked again. "Yep. I can't deny it. I was a walking misdemeanor." Well, felony, really, but that was a story for another time, or not at all, if he didn't want her to run screaming. The less she knew about the crap he'd _really_ gone through, the better.

"I'll bet," Kala said, nodding. "Sounds like it's a good thing we didn't know each other back then. Mom says that I was pretty bad about being the sneaky one growing up, although I can't brag on the alcohol. Daddy kept a pretty tight eye on what we did have in the house. Mostly it was Mom's good chocolate and her clove cigarettes. Needless to say, Daddy didn't approve."

That caught Jay's attention really fucking quick. "Since when do you smoke?" he asked, his eyes widening. He'd certainly never smelled it on her, and he _knew_ from cigarette odor.

Kala just smirked at him. "Since I was about sixteen. I wanted to be edgy back then, but now it's a casual thing. Just occasionally, when I've had a bad day or I'm really stressed. And always cloves. Too harsh to smoke all the way down to the filter. I could probably take it or leave it," she finished, shrugging. "Benefits of a Kryptonian metabolism. And what about you? Your bunker reeks of menthol, you know. And all that Febreze really does nothing to cover it up."

At that, Jay couldn't resist his own smirk and a little shrug. "Guilty as charged. It's not all the time, but often enough, I guess. I try not to smoke around other people. Alfred broke me of that habit real fucking quick when I lived here."

"Got you young, too, huh?" Kala asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yep. I—" But he cut himself off then, not really wanting to go into it. Still, wasn't like she wouldn't know about that part of his life eventually, and his story was only removed from Dick and Tim and Bruce's by dollar signs and decimal points. "I took it up after my mom died. Was twelve, on my own, and it didn't much matter. Had my whole life to do whatever the fuck I wanted, and had plenty of money to burn since I was selling stolen tires for a living." And _that_ was almost a total fabrication. Sure, he'd stolen tires—and hubcaps and radios, too—but that hadn't been the majority of his income. K didn't need to know.

Having been taking a long sip of her perfumey-smelling tea, Kala nearly spit it at him, her eyes wide. "You stole _tires_ for a living? At _twelve_?" she balked. But her expression softened then. "Jesus, Jay … and your mom. … I'm so sorry."

Jay just shrugged again. "It was a long time ago. She was sick for ages after my dad went and got his ass killed working the wrong side of the law. And the tires … " he paused, laughing to himself, "that's how B found me. I tried to take the tires off his car. And I don't mean the Lamborghini. I mean the Tumbler. The old one, anyway."

"Damn, Babs told me, but it still blows my mind," Kala said, sitting straighter. Her hazel eyes practically glowed with laughter. "What was going through your head, Jay?"

He couldn't help a chuckle in response. "That it was a damn good score? I had two tires off and was hitting the other side when the Bat came out of the shadows at me, looking down with that disapproving scowl he always wears. I nearly fucking wet my pants."

At that, Kala actually cackled, shaking her head. "Wow, I did _not_ see that one coming. No wonder he took you in."

"Yep, had to make sure the little delinquent wouldn't grow up to steal his whole damn ride," Jay admitted, smirking. "Which, who knows, that's still on my bucket list."

Another soft laugh, and with an outstretched hand and a knowing grin, Kala offered him her second cookie. "In that case. Here, a toast to honor among thieves."

Blinking at the cookie, Jay felt his chest tighten. Shit, he must've had it bad if he was gonna get bent out of shape over a goddamn cookie, when they were only laughing over their combined teenage antics. "Yeah, okay. Thanks," he said, taking the offering and biting into it.

Shit, it tasted just as good as he remembered: sweet, with just a hint of peanutty saltiness, and just the right soft, almost-gooey texture. He could almost die a happy man eating these. Almost. Jay sighed happily.

Laughing again, Kala raised an eyebrow at him. "Should I leave the two of you alone? Sounds like it's getting pretty personal there."

Jay knew his own faint blush at the observation must've matched Kala's. There it was, that little bit of awkwardness stemming from the night before. He'd known that was gonna come back to bite him in the ass.

"Ha ha," he shot back, still chewing on the cookie. "You _wish_ you could have this kind of orgasmic experience with a cookie. It's freakin' spiritual." Good God, 'orgasmic experience with a cookie'? _Get a hold of yourself, Todd. You're slipping._

"Uh-huh, sure, absolutely. Heartbroken it's not me," she shot back with a snicker, looking dubious as she tried to play off the way her blush was deepening. Jay bit his tongue to keep from asking if she was jealous of him or the cookie. And if it was the cookie, did she want to land herself on his menu?

A single glance told him she had seen the thought cross his expression, even if he hadn't said it. "Shut it, Jaybird." She seemed to get control of herself, growing a little more somber. They sat in a somewhat comfortable quiet, Jay with his cookie, Kala with her tea, until she asked in a cautious tone. "So, do you always go looking to drink yourself to sleep? Even here? I told you all of mine; finish up yours. Something else rolling around in there you wanted to confess to, Red?"

Confess to? Shit, there went his big plan to play off the talk he'd had with Dick as an anomaly. "So you heard," he said quietly.

Kala didn't quite look up, having taken a sip of her tea. She did, however, nod. _Shit._ "Some of it. Heard the Amazonian princess mentioned by name."

"And?"

An eyebrow shot skyward. "And? And what? Not like I make it a habit to eavesdrop on other people's conversations, Red. My father drilled that into me really early. I was wondering what Dick was thinking over my performance. That's all. I just happened to tune in at the wrong time, and it sounded like you and Dick were about to throw down. So I tuned back out."

A weight seemed to lift from Jay's chest at that, and he took a deep breath. Fuck, he'd nearly given away the whole damn farm there, and yet it was clear that she hadn't really heard _everything_. "Yeah, well, it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that Dickie-Bird had gone and started spilling my secrets. He didn't even have the faintest idea what really went down back then. Just wanted to set him straight."

"And did you?" Kala asked gently.

He scowled fiercely. Jeez, when did she turn into a fucking therapist? But he had to settle down or give more away. Lifting a shoulder, Jay hummed noncommittally. "Got the point across. Then he decided to hug me and make everything better."

A tentative smile tugged at Kala's mouth, and she said, "That sounds like Dick. Must've been a sight. Why do I miss all the good stuff?"

"Cute," Jay shot back, unable to help his own little smile, especially when she rolled her eyes at his using that word again. But then he figured he should at least address the crap that was obviously bothering Kala. Jealous, go figure. "Look, Donna was a long time ago, okay? Dick didn't know how sideways it went. She … she was looking for something that I wasn't. And I'm not gonna apologize for that."

Kala blinked, sitting a little straighter. "And I … I can understand that," she said, voice cautious again. Biting her lip, she looked down at her hands then, looking more than a little ashamed of herself, and said quietly, "Look, Jay, I honestly didn't mean to pry. I just wanted to make sure the two of you were okay. The rest … wasn't any of my business. I was just trying to…"

"Yeah. Yeah, I know," Jay sighed, and—and fuck, when did things get so damn _real?_ Shrugging, he frowned a little. "Not your fault. Dick just can't keep his nose out of other people's business. And yeah, I got a past. Don't we all?"

That brought Kala's focus back up to him, and she regarded him thoughtfully again, her hazel eyes catching the light. "Good point. It's not like I have the right to throw stones at anyone else." She took a deep breath before running a hand through her thick fall of hair. The mood had changed now, Jay could see it in her face. Drawing away again because they were both unsettled. "Look, I'm sorry again for that. It really was an accident."

"Quit apologizing or you're gonna make me feel like I was the one who did something wrong," Jay said, only teasing a little. He needed to steer this conversation back to less troubled – and less troubling – waters, quick. There were far too many things dancing around the tip of his tongue, and walls he'd built up over years were _not_ allowed to crumble over cookies and freakin' Superman pajamas.

She chuckled a little at his last remark, and Jay decided to come out with one of the things he'd wondered about her from the beginning. "Donna, and everybody else, they don't get you. To be honest, I don't really get you, either. I've seen what you can do, K, and … holy shit. I haven't even seen all of it, and fuck, if I had your powers…"

"You'd either be on the FBI's most wanted list or the nightly news, or both," Kala said dryly, arching a brow. "The speed and flight alone, I bet you couldn't resist buzzing Air Force bases and leaving fighter jets in your dust."

A little chill ran up his spine at that. "You can outfly an F15?"

Kala laughed, and for a moment Jay thought it was a silly comparison. But then she said, still chuckling, "F15s only go about Mach 2.5. I don't actually _know_ my top speed, but it's faster than that. One time I accidentally cut across someone's airspace over New Mexico, and something that's not on _any_ official listing came after me. Big, solid black, no numbers on it at all. I outran _that_ , and while I was doing it, I flew from New Mexico to the Mississippi River in under five minutes."

Despite all he knew, it was still jarring to think that the fairly normal girl sitting across from him could do shit like that … all on her own, without a jetpack or anything. Just as she sat there in her pjs, she could take off and break the speed of sound. "Jesus fuck," he said quietly. "That's something like a thousand miles in less than five minutes."

Kala nodded, soberly now. "Two hundred miles a minute, or twelve thousand miles per hour. Which, given that Mach 1 is about seven hundred miles per hour, means I'm close to Mach 17. The fastest _known_ aircraft only goes about Mach 7. Whatever they sicced on me was plenty fast, but not as fast as me."

"Holy fucking shitballs," was all Jay could say for a minute, and her lips quirked up in a grin.

"The whole planet's only about twenty-five thousand miles around, Jay. I could lap it in two hours. _That I_ _ **know**_ _of._ Dad can do it in _seconds_. I haven't tried to push for that speed because I don't trust myself to be able to dodge satellites – and you can't fly that fast in atmosphere, because you literally set the air on fire in front of you if you're going fast enough."

"Jesus H. fucking Christmas," Jay finally said, shaking his head. And he'd punched this girl in the face not too long ago – he was lucky she hadn't kicked his ass into orbit!

He looked at her in plain disbelief. "I don't get it, K. You are _ungodly_ powerful, I think you just did those calculations in your head, you know shit like the circumference of the goddamn planet just casually and shit – probably because you can swing around it in two hours, the time it takes me to drive to Metropolis and back – Jesus _fuck_ , why the hell are you a goddamn singer?"

Oh, _that_ needled her. "Not _this_ fucking shit again," she spat, leaning forward. "Hey, Jay, what else should I be? An Olympic sprinter? I can run faster _backwards_ than the rest of the field. What's the challenge in that? What's the _point?_ I'm a helluva lot stronger than any human, too, so what, I should go work construction? If the crane doesn't reach I can fly a six-ton I-beam to the top of a building? Again, what's the point?"

"Well…" he began, really thinking about it for the first time.

"Lemme ask you something," she said, still in that two-seconds-from-pissed-off tone. "I didn't know I was anything special until I was six. So what'd you want to be when you were six, Jay? A fireman?"

The question startled a laugh out of him. "Shit, no, I wanted to be an astronaut, get as far from this fucking hellhole as I could," he said, then grinned a little. "Guess I can get you to give me a ride to outer space sometime?"

She scoffed at him. "I don't know if my invulnerability will protect you like Dad's. There's a lot of radiation up there, Jay, and it's either way too hot or way too cold. You'd probably need a space suit."

He found himself shaking his head again in amazement. Conditions that would kill him in minutes, and she could handle it in _street clothes_. At least she hadn't taken any other possible interpretation of 'ride to outer space', which could've gotten his ass kicked.

Kala continued, "When I was six, I wanted to be a rock star. I was pitiful and sickly as hell – hybrids have a rough time of it, until the Kryptonian immune system comes completely online – so no one thought it was possible then, but that's what I wanted. And guess what, when I was sixteen in arts school, I still wanted to sing, plus I found out I actually could do it. I sing for the same reason Dad's a reporter. I'm in a career where I compete with humans on your level. My trust fund giving me the chance to afford studio time has more impact on my career than any of my powers. Not only that, I worked my ass off in fucking _retail_ , making sure my band has food on the table and roof over their heads, making sure they don't have to pawn their instruments to survive. Everything I am, everything I worked for in my career, is because of _me_. Kala Lane-Kent. Not Superman's daughter. I love my Dad, but I don't want to live exclusively in his shadow."

For a long moment, Jay could only blink at her. "That makes sense," he said slowly. "But that's why the Titans don't get it. They see what you could do, what _they_ would do if they had your powers, and they don't think any further about what it means. I get it, now, and I damn sure know about wanting to be your own person."

Something else she'd mentioned percolated through then, and Jay arched an eyebrow at her. "Trust fund? How much do reporters make in Metropolis?"

Kala snorted laughter. "Oh, didn't you get that memo? My stepmother is L. Lang. Any mall in this country carries her clothes. Lana went behind Mom and Dad's backs with the trust funds for me and Jason. He paid for college, whatever his scholarships didn't cover, and I paid for lessons and studio time and a touring van. Neither of us ever touched the principal."

"Jesus, you're a rock star, a superhero, a fucking _warrior_ , and now I find out you're rich too," he laughed.

She rolled her eyes. "Not rich. It's only like a hundred grand. Chump change, for this house. But the dividends are a nice cushion. And it helps, when you're supporting a band full of boys. You have any idea how much four guys eat?"

"Dunno, but Alfred would," Jay replied with a shrug. "A hundred grand in the bank is still pretty good, and I bet you'll be making more. _GQ_ doesn't interview just everybody."

Kala shrugged too. "The money's nice, but that's not why I do it. When I'm up there singing in front of an audience, it's like it was what I was meant to do. Like I was born for that moment, that connection."

"I can honestly say I've never felt anything like that," Jay told her. "I mean, I'm good at fighting, if I was born to do anything it's that, but I don't think my eyes light up like yours just did when I talk about it."

She smirked a little. "Maybe it's an artist thing, who knows."

He shook his head, momentarily overwhelmed. "Fucking hell. You're badass, you're powerful, you're hot, you're rich, _and_ you're talented? No wonder the Titans hate you, they're goddamn jealous."

"You are _so_ exaggerating," Kala scoffed.

"Not really," Jay replied. "I call it like I see it."

"It's the middle of the night and you've been up since God alone knows when," Kala pointed out. "So I'll just chalk up the praise to sleep deprivation, all right? I'm sure you wouldn't normally tell me how _hot_ I am."

Aw fuck, he had slipped that in there – and slipping things in anywhere wasn't something he needed on his mind right now. Those damn pajamas were pretty thin, showing him the shape of her long slim legs. And knowing how powerful she really was did absolutely _nothing_ to shut up the thirteen-year-old in the back of his head, who'd always been fascinated by strong women. Jay managed not to look embarrassed, just shrugging again. "Hey, you don't need me to tell you that, you have mirrors."

A merry little laugh, and she grinned at him. "On that note, I should probably try to go get some sleep," she said.

Jay let out a heavy breath. "Yeah. Okay." Shit, he was _not_ disappointed. No fucking way. "I guess I'll see you in the morning, then."

In the morning? _Real fucking smooth, Todd,_ he scolded himself again. Talking to each other like real people, like they were both something other than weapons of war, was only making this stupid infatuation worse. Fuck, what he _wanted_ to do was throw her back on that leather sofa, and … and rip off those Superman pajamas, ruin the sofa and wake the whole goddamn house. Not send her off to bed for the night. _Fuck!_

"Right," Kala said with a slight nod. "I'll, um, see you in the morning." Standing, she turned to go, and—

And Jay's chest felt like it wanted to implode. He couldn't just let her fucking walk away after all that. Why the hell was he stalling with her?

"Wait," he said, his throat closing up around the word, and somehow, he'd managed to reach out and grab Kala's hand, her palm and fingers warm in his. "I—"

Kala looked back at him like she'd been shocked, like his touch had jolted her, and she reached up with her free hand to tuck an errant curl of hair behind her ear. He stared at her, stumbling for the words, and all she did was gaze back at him with those huge eyes of hers.

"Um—" But that was all he was able to get out, the sudden sound of his own heartbeat hammering in his ears. Shit, she'd reduced him to muttering and grunts again. And there was no way she didn't hear his pulse start to gallop like a herd of wildebeest.

Her expression softened then, her lips curving into a warm smile. Her hand tightened around his. "Good night, Jay. Thanks for keeping me company," she said finally, her voice barely a whisper. Something flickered in her eyes, something that might've been thinking along the same lines as he was.

"Uh, yeah, good night," he finally managed, having to clear his throat as he tore his gaze away from hers and let her hand go. Rubbing the back of his neck again, he smiled faintly as she turned to leave the library, and when she'd disappeared, he murmured under his breath, not for the first time, he realized, "Sweet dreams, Kala."

And grabbing up his book again, he buried himself in the text. There wouldn't be any sleep for him after that, anyway.

…

Half an hour later, Kala was back in her room, wakeful this time for an entirely different reason. Going down to the library had really only been a distraction to tide her over until dawn and her morning sunbath, to be honest. Instead, she'd been given far more food for thought than she'd bargained for, and from the most unusual source. Leaning back against her pillows, she turned their conversion over and over in her mind. None of it had been what she was expecting from Jay at all. Peanut butter cookies? Highbrow literature and Dido? Stolen _tires?_ With those little tidbits, he'd thrown her for a loop for what seemed like the hundredth time since they'd verbally thrown down in that dark alley behind Mask's warehouse, only just over a month ago.

Of course, over that brief span of time she'd come to learn that there was more to Jay than the expressionless helmet he showed most of the world, had seen flickers of several different facets at unguarded moments, something deeper and even a little goofier in there during their training, but this was somehow … different. As if he was letting her in on secrets so closely guarded that not even his brothers knew. As if he was dropping the arrogant troll act and being honest with her for once, showing her the good in his past, and not just the bad. He'd even managed to restrain himself to one measly dick joke. Progress, for sure.

Somewhere along the line, Kala realized, she might have even started to like him as a person. Which was truly making a statement, considering they'd beaten the ever loving _hell_ out of each other over the last month and a half, she thought with a little smile. But tonight? She'd never seen tonight coming.

Or the way that the aftermath of it made her feel.

Beyond her initial trolling for information, Dick and Tim's intervention the other day notwithstanding, she'd resigned herself to figuring out the man rather than discovering what had made him that way. No one had been willing to explain, anyway, beyond the obvious. And then to get it from the man himself. Just when she thought she had him pinned—the thought of the other night rose in her mind at her choice of phrase, bringing a little grin with it—he'd come in and flattened all her assumptions. She'd never even suspected some of the little grenades that he'd lobbed tonight. The revelation of how Bruce had found him in the first place—the poor Tumbler had probably never stood a chance, she thought with a snicker—the ridiculous way he'd behaved over the cookies, even busting him reading classic literature when he'd thought no one else was up. Sneaky, and … completely adorable.

'Adorable' wasn't an adjective she'd ever thought she would apply to someone who'd initially struck her as just a trigger-happy asshole. He _was_ still an asshole, of course, but the adorable part was true too.

She couldn't figure out for the life of her why he'd want to hide those things, but then, she supposed maintaining a certain persona was a habit that was hard to break. She'd certainly had enough trouble turning off KLK the rockstar when she'd come to Gotham earlier in the summer, and Jay … well, how else would he keep up the image of the Big Bad Wolf? It made sense, in a way, even if it felt like he was hiding too much for his own good. She'd have thought he'd let his own family in, at least a little more than he seemed to.

Either way, bit by bit, her eyes were finally opening to the fact that there really was something in there behind the shield Jason Todd held up to the world. That he really wasn't the stone he made himself out to be. The tension between the two of them had become painfully obvious, palpable, and though God knew Jay was a gorgeous man, their conversation tonight had rocked her to the core, so much more than that moment on the mats had. There was more there, more to him, than she had ever expected.

And she found herself more curious about him than ever.

Her mind circled back to the way he'd caught her hand when she went to leave. There was no denying the way she'd reacted to his touch, the way that her heart had unexpectedly seized in her chest. There was something happening here, something more than just simple physical attraction. Kala's brow furrowed, remembering the way he'd looked at her, his loss for words. Could it be that maybe—?

The thought brought up a mix of emotions that made her bite her lip, her heart racing the same way it had earlier. Rolling over onto her side with a sigh, she caught her own gaze staring back at her from the darkened glass of the full-length mirror across from her bed. What was she doing? This was crazy to even consider. She had just over a week left here in Gotham, just ten days, and there was no way she could stay even a day longer, not with the tour starting right after. Her real life—her _day_ life—was utterly complicated, to say the least, and the label owned her soul for the next six months. Even if she managed to work out this Gordian knot with Sebast, she'd promised herself that she wouldn't get involved with any of the Bats. She hadn't come here to hook up, after all; most of the reason she'd come in the first place was to get her head on straight and clear out the cobwebs in her brain. Getting involved was the very _opposite_ of what she'd planned for the summer, dammit.

That was, of course, assuming she hadn't been reading Jay wrong this whole time. God, what was _wrong_ with her? She wasn't like her brother, not nearly that high-minded, but this just wasn't something a person should do after just a few weeks. People weren't supposed to go getting mixed-up feelings about someone this quickly. Things like this just didn't happen this way with her, not like this, not this fast—

At that, her mind whispered harshly, _You came to Gotham to find a solution to your problem. Did you ever think that maybe this might be it? This might not be as wrong as you think. Just consider the possibility._

She groaned then, closing her eyes. So many 'maybe's, so many 'might's, no certainty at all. But she felt the knot in her chest just the same. And, if she was honest with herself, she found herself more than a little bit scared of the answer.

Sometime later, Kala finally dozed off again, still pondering this riddle she'd found herself wrapped in. Maybe the daylight would give her more answers to the questions this night had brought on.

She hoped.


	29. An Unexpected Guest

No matter how late they got in – and even regular patrols could keep them out past three – Kala was usually the first to wake. Not that she wanted to; the sun called her up out of slumber, and now that she wasn't on photon-restriction, she liked to bask a little. Today was no different, and after her sunbath Kala headed down to the kitchen in hopes of snagging an extra treat from Alfred for being the first up. She and Dick had been competing all week for the honor, when they weren't competing to see who could bag the most crooks in a night.

To her surprise, when she stepped into the kitchen Alfred cut her the sharpest look she'd seen from him. It reminded her suddenly that he was more than just a butler, more than just the _actual_ dad in this house full of overgrown boys; Alfred had been in the Special Forces, and probably could've taken over Bruce's rounds if he was just a little younger.

The meaning of the look wasn't clear until Kala looked past him. Someone was sitting at the table where the family took breakfast, calmly sipping tea with a slice of orange as if she had every right to be there. Kala blinked, pausing in the doorway to study the newcomer. Long dark brunette hair, artfully lined eyes, tawny skin—at first glance she might've passed for Latina, but Kala was quite familiar with that ethnicity and this woman didn't have the facial features even if she had the coloring. No, with that nose and those cheekbones she had to be of Middle Eastern descent. Maybe a touch of somewhere further east.

The stranger wore business casual, white blouse and black slacks, gold heeled sandals that Kala knew had to have cost at least a grand. Hoop earrings and a subtle diamond bracelet—wealth but not ostentatious display of it, no need to advertise. And her eyes were _sharp_ ; Kala saw now that they were a piercing, light green. She figured this for an heiress to some business empire, a rich man's daughter but one who meant to take over the firm.

All of that observation and conclusion took place as Alfred placed a cup of tea into Kala's hands, and made the introductions. "Miss Talia, this is Miss Kala. You may know of her through her band, KLK. They are, I believe it's called, Goth fusion." Kala managed to suppress a snort, grinning at Alfred. Everyone should have to hear a very proper Englishman mention Goth fusion at least once. He continued in the same casual tone, "She's been staying with us this summer, doing charity work with Master Grayson. Miss Kala, this is Miss Talia Head. She has business obligations with Master Wayne."

' _Business obligations'. So this is Bruce's bed-warmer of last night. No wonder he shut us all down so quick. Eh, good taste, but he really should know not to mix business with pleasure. That's a recipe for disaster, especially with the about-to-be-pissed-off look on her face._ "Pleased to meet you," Kala said politely, holding up her mug as a way of not offering a handshake.

Talia Head—the surname was pronounced English-fashion, more like _heed_ than _head_ —raised her own cup in return. "The same," she replied, with a trace of an accent that Kala couldn't place. "You're quite an early riser, for this household at least. I was unaware that musicians kept such hours."

"It's not as much fun as everyone thinks it is," Kala said, keenly aware of Alfred hovering nearby. _It's all right, I won't insult one of Bruce's girlfriends. Half the JLA is sick of him right now, no wonder he's with a civilian._ "If you don't get by with auto-tune and lip-synching at your concerts, the singing alone is one hell of a workout. Might as well get up early and get ready for it."

"Best to be prepared," the other woman said, sounding fairly uninterested. That was fine with Kala, who really just wanted to make her escape. She doubted she had anything interesting to chat about with the interloper. Bruce _really_ shouldn't have let a civvie hang around the house, with everyone home and working on a major case.

And, luckily, the opportunity arrived. "Morning, Alfred," Dick called from the hallway, and then as he stepped into the kitchen he froze for just a second, staring at Talia. _Ah, so no one_ _ **else**_ _knew the girlfriend was staying over,_ Kala thought, as Dick dropped a hand onto her shoulder.

"Good morning, Richard," Talia said calmly.

"Miss Talia is joining us for breakfast," Alfred put in serenely.

"I can see that," Dick said, squeezing Kala's shoulder. "Hey, sugar, if you don't mind taking your tea to go, Tim wanted to ask you a question."

She chuckled a bit at that. Kala knew how to take a cue, and how to turn it back on its sender. She slipped her hand over his and beamed up at him, making her smile affectionate. Fine, she'd play the darling girlfriend for the fortieth time this summer, but she was getting some answers once they left the room. He could plan on it. "Sure, pumpkin. I'm sure Bruce will be up and around eventually."

"Eventually," Talia echoed, as Kala rose from her seat and Dick slid his arm around her waist.

In the hallway, she was about to make a remark about reassuring Bruce's jealous girlfriends when Tim came padding up, still rubbing his eyes. "Wake up," Dick hissed.

"Huh?" Tim said blearily.

" _Talia_ is sitting at the kitchen table drinking tea like she goddamn _lives here_ ," Dick whispered, and that was the moment when Kala realized something more was going on. Dick rarely swore, and the controlled vehemence under his tone spooked her.

That tore it. It was about time that someone gave her a clue. She'd never seen them this wound up in their own home. "Dick, what's going on?" she whispered.

Both boys looked at her, Tim wide awake now. "Did she see…?"

Dick rolled his eyes. " _Yes!_ Alfred just made Kala a cup of tea and let them chat to each other!"

" _Shit_ ," Tim whispered, grabbing Kala's other arm.

That earned him a fiery glare, then her eyes were back on Dick. "Who the hell is she?" Kala demanded, but she wasn't getting an answer yet. The two of them started to literally drag her away, and only the sound of the garage door stopped them.

"You didn't warn Jay," Tim groaned.

"I didn't have time!" Dick hissed. "And who the hell knew he was _up_ , anyway!"

Kala could've guessed; if Jay couldn't sleep, or couldn't stay asleep, he'd told her once that sometimes he worked on his car. That explained why he was coming in from the garage. She held her breath, listening intently to the kitchen.

"Good morning, Master Jason," Alfred said, a touch more forcefully than normal.

And then the woman spoke. "You look well, Jason."

Irrational anger swept over Kala. How the hell did this Talia know Jay? And why did it take a second before he answered, sounding completely off his game? "Yeah. You too. Didn't know you were in the states."

"I'm here on business. It does not concern you," was the noncommittal reply.

"Yeah, right. You concern the hell out of me," Jay muttered, and then came hustling up the hallway to find the three of them in a worried knot. "Thank God. Get K out of here before she sees her."

"Too late," Dick said grimly, nodding at Kala's teacup. "She was the first one down. _Alfred_ introduced them."

"Jesus fuck on a flamin' tricycle," Jay growled.

Okay, one more round of this and she was going to throttle all three of them. "You guys have about thirty seconds to tell me what the hell is going on before I choke it out of you," Kala growled through gritted teeth.

Jay just snatched the teacup, shoving it at Tim, and then grabbed Kala around the waist, throwing her over his shoulder. She was so startled she didn't even protest as he bolted the stairs two at a time, Dick and Tim trailing them like worried ducklings.

Bruce was on his way down, and stopped on the landing. It must've been a very odd sight, Jay hauling Kala around like a sack of potatoes—and Kala crabbing irritably under her breath, not fighting particularly hard. But he would never break his implacable Bat-calm. "Jason?"

"Talia's here for breakfast," Jay barked. "And she's already seen Kala. Better get on that, Bruce. Or off it, as the case may be. Make her some fucking pancakes and kick her the fuck out before she takes a fuckin' interest."

Hung over his shoulder, Kala thwapped him on the back with emphasis. "Goddammit, I'm about over this caveman shit. Uncle Bruce knows. Now let me down and give me the explanation for this. _What is going on_?"

"I'll handle this," Bruce growled, and _he_ was walking fast too. Nobody ran in the Manor, not unless something major was going on, and Kala's frustration level had almost reached supernova.

A moment later, Jay ducked into the first room off the hall—Tim's—and finally dropped Kala on her feet. " _Who the fuck is she_?" were the first words out of her mouth, hands propped on her hips.

Dick and Tim looked at each other, at a loss for words. It was Jay who answered. "You remember that shitty movie last summer? _Revenge of the Ninja Assassin_?"

"Yeah?" Kala said, cocking her head. What did cheesy martial arts flicks have to do with anything?

Jay jerked his chin in the direction of the kitchen. "That's the real thing. She's sometimes known as the _queen_ of assassins, and her body count's higher than mine. As for ninja, she's one of the top ten martial artists on the planet. She was trained by the same person who trained Bruce. And an actual ninja-trained assassin, if she fucking knew you were the Blur, would stick a knife in your eye just on basic principles."

…

Alfred was not having a good morning. It was not a common thing for him to find an intruder in the house; the Manor's security was extremely good. _This_ intruder, however, considered it her right to be in the Manor, and nothing would stop her.

In a way, Alfred was sometimes glad to see her. Talia al Ghul had, more than once, shown up when Master Bruce was losing focus, and had helped get him back on track. She knew him almost as well as Alfred himself did, but she had no compunctions against telling him point-blank that he was making an ass of himself. Something that, quite frankly, Master Bruce occasionally needed to hear, and which Alfred himself was constrained by circumstance from saying.

Still, those facts did not make her unexpected presence welcome. Not this summer. The Demon and his daughter were not the sort of people that Alfred would have wanted to take an interest in Superman's family. Especially not Kala. That would play merry hell with all of their futures. Alfred had only just now gotten Master Jason home…

Master Bruce arrived, his face frozen into a stern mask. "Talia."

"Beloved," she said, sipping her tea. Insolently, Alfred thought, as he quietly made coffee for Master Bruce.

"Why are you here?" He refused to be seated, simply staring at her.

Talia set the teacup down in its saucer. "Do I need a motive to see you?"

"You generally have one." His voice was so cold – but that was Bruce, practical before anything else. Alfred had watched him harden as he grew to maturity.

"Is that all we are to one another now, Beloved?" When Master Bruce did not answer, Talia sighed. "Very well. I am here on business. Wayne Industries is attempting to acquire a long-term contract with a French technology firm, Entreprises Guyot-Perrin. I suggest you stop wasting your time."

"It's your firm?" Master Bruce asked.

"No, it is our contract. And will remain so."

Alfred poured the coffee and added a touch of cream, placing it in front of Master Bruce, and then set up for breakfast. He couldn't start making it yet, as none of the children would want to come in while Talia was here, but the prep work could be done. Only Kala would've strolled right in, not knowing the stakes.

"Is that a threat?" His voice was controlled, but Alfred could sense his employer's anger lurking underneath.

She laughed. "Everything must be a war with you, Beloved. No, I do not threaten you. The contract is lucrative, and besides, it is vital to our aims in developing more accessible forms of renewable energy. We will not allow it to slip. I can better any offer you make them, but I do wish you would not waste your time and my money on this. Wayne Industries has its own very efficient technology department, after all."

"And you came all the way to my city just to tell me that," Master Bruce said flatly.

Talia only looked at him for a long moment. "No, Beloved. I came to see how you were faring. I see you are the same as always. Do give the boys my regards." With that she rose, elegant and dignified, and returned her cup and saucer to Alfred at the sink. "Alfred, thank you. As always, you are the best thing about this house."

"You're very welcome, Miss Talia," he replied.

She smiled, the expression giving away nothing, and turned to walk into the garage. At the door she glanced over her shoulder once at Bruce, and then Alfred thought he saw a hint of regret in her eyes. It never paid to leap to conclusions with her, however. The next moment, Talia was gone.

"That went much better than I expected, Master Bruce," he said, but when he turned, his employer had already left.

…

In the back of Jay's brain, a hellish track played on endless loop. _Talia's here. Holy fuck if she decides to tell Bruce … sweet fucking God, she saw Kala,_ _ **she saw Kala,**_ _hope to God she doesn't suspect … Bruce, don't piss her off and send her looking for ways to fuck us over … what the hell does she_ _ **want?!**_

It took every ounce of his will not to panic. The very, _very_ last thing he ever wanted was Talia and Kala in the same room. Especially after last night. If Talia knew what Kala was, if she had any clue how much Kala mattered to him, that was the kind of enemy Kala really _did not_ need to make. And shit, if Kala had any clue that the Demon's Daughter had been his savior and mentor and lover, he could forget about getting so much as the time of day from her ever again.

Meanwhile Kala was crossing her arms and staring at him, clearly not getting how big a deal this was. "Ninja assassin? Seriously? And I'm supposed to be scared?"

"Forget martial artist, she's one of the top ten _killers_ on the planet," Tim added dryly, booting up his computer. "Right up there with Slade Wilson and David Cain and that bunch. Her father is Ra's al Ghul—he runs the League of Shadows, which is an organization compromised of mercenaries and assassins. Remember when I told you we had rogues more dangerous than Joker? That's who I meant. The League of Shadows _hired_ Wilson and Cain, at various times. Also, Jay's not kidding, that's where Bruce got most of his training. So yes, you should be scared."

"Yeah, well, thanks to a swift intervention by _moi_ and Kala's sense of humor, Talia probably thinks Kala's just a fluff-brained singer keeping my bed warm for the summer," Dick sighed with relief, and then yelped when Kala swatted him.

"No, we _want_ her to think you're an ordinary dumb civilian," Jay interjected. Her eyes blazed angrily, but he cut her off. "You do _not_ want her taking an interest, K. If she really wanted to start digging, she could probably figure out you're the Blur, and then we'd all be screwed. I mean, she knows all our identities."

"Wait. She knows _all_ of you…?" Kala stared, wide-eyed.

"I was Robin when she turned up the first time," Dick said, with old anger in his voice. "She's been around ever since. Ra's wants Bruce to marry her, kill him, and become the new Demon's Head. It's pretty messed up."

"Does this Ra's know _anything_ about Bruce?" Kala asked.

"Considering he personally trained him to be his successor, yeah," Tim said. He had several security scans running simultaneously, checking all of the Manor's systems for interference. "He must've just missed the 'I never kill' part. Or he figured it wasn't important. These people kill for _convenience,_ Kala."

"He got one out of three," Dick said sourly. "Although I don't know, is that marriage considered legal in the U.S.?"

"Might as well not be. Neither one of them respects it," Jay scoffed.

That prompted a completely thunderstruck look from Kala. " _What?!_ You're trying to tell me that the Bat is _married_ _?_ To a villain's daughter?"

"Calling Ra's al Ghul a villain is like calling ebola a cold," Tim interjected.

Kala took a deep breath and made a sweeping gesture with her hands. "Okay. Mind: officially blown. Need to hit reset. _What_ , again?" Jay let out a sigh of relief; she was finally getting it.

Meanwhile Dick had turned to look at Jay suspiciously. "What do you mean, neither one of them respects the marriage?"

 _Oh fuck I'm so fucking stupid why don't I just tattoo 'I fucked my stepmom and I liked it' on my goddamn idiotic forehead!_ Out loud, all Jay said was, "Dude. You guys aren't stupid. I damn near died, and turn up again years later without a scratch on me. You _have_ to know how that happened."

"It _was_ the Pit," Dick murmured, and Kala's ears perked up. Jay had said something similar back in Seventh Circle, but she'd never run it all the way down. Mentioning it again was gonna set her on the trail again, but it couldn't be helped.

"Yeah, and it wasn't Ra's who chucked me in," Jay said with a bitter laugh. "He doesn't share. That was all her, just like she was the one financing my first run at Gotham. I was living at Casa Demon for a year, you guys, and Talia handled my training after that. I knew which of the henchmen she was sleeping with. Can't blame her, Bruce's hit practically everything in the League. If he's gonna fuck every woman he can get his hands on, _and he does,_ she can get some on the side, too. Fair's fair."

Dick sneered with distaste, and even Tim shook his head. "Someone call O. I want her to go over this."

"Where's our breach?" Dick said, pulling out his phone.

Tim's fingers flew over the keyboard. "That's the thing. Nowhere. And we have overlapping systems."

"Then how the hell did she get in?" Kala asked, brow furrowing.

" _Ninja_ ," Jay said again. "Same way Daddy Bats gets in to all kinds of places he shouldn't be." He froze then, hearing an unexpected sound, and turned toward the window. That was a familiar engine, complaining at being held to low speed, and on the drive he saw a steel blue car rolling out. Couldn't be Bruce driving, not even he could get dressed that fast.

Dick was closer to the window, leaning down to see if he could make out the driver, and as Babs answered he started the conversation with, "Hold on … hot damn! Babs, we've got Lo-Jack on the Lamborghini, right?"

He'd put her on speaker phone, and everyone heard her answer. "Yes. Someone stole the car?"

"Stealing it right now," Tim put in. "Talia was here this morning. Can you track the car as she's driving, and run a full diagnostic of Manor security, too?"

"Ask me something difficult," Babs replied smoothly.

That was when the bedroom door opened behind all of them.

…

Kala was the first to turn toward the sound, still on high alert. Ninja assassin. It sounded like a joke, but she'd never seen Jay this freaked. Not even when they'd had to sew each other up after confronting Black Mask's goons. _That_ , he'd treated like a mild inconvenience, but an attractive woman in expensive clothes urbanely drinking tea had sent him into red alert.

Bruce stood in the doorway. Before he could speak, Tim was reporting. "Babs and I are going over security detail now, and tracking the car."

"Stand down on the car," Bruce said, and Kala did a double-take. Perhaps it was for her benefit that he continued, "Talia knows we can track it. She won't go anywhere important."

Tim scowled, swiveling the desk chair to face him, but there was no answer from Babs. Dick let out an aggravated sigh. "She saw Kala, Bruce."

The reply was icy calm. "She stays informed of Gotham news. She already knew we had a singer in the house. This is why we tailored the Blur's appearances to lead to the conclusion that she'd moved to Gotham months before this visit."

Kala's eyebrows shot up. It had been tedious at the time, flying in a couple times a week and letting the paparazzi spot her collaring small-time crooks. Not just baby patrol, that was newborn-gangly-fawn patrol, every encounter carefully scripted and watched over by Bruce and Tim. The first one that was supposed to establish her hadn't been a real bust at all; Kala had been set up to grab Tim, who was in disguise as an apparent pickpocket.

The next one had been a graffiti artist. Kala had been insulted, at the time, not realizing how under-trained she was. But it was the Bats' town. You played by their rules, or you went home. And now she knew why: apparently Bruce had himself an evil ex spying on the family.

He must have seen some of those thoughts in her expression, because Bruce turned to her and asked flatly, "Something you want to say to me?"

What she _really_ wanted to do was bust his balls a little, tell him he was just as much of an idiot as every other man who fell head over heels for a femme fatale with a lovely face and a black heart, but she was in his house for another two weeks. And she wasn't one of his kids. In the end Kala took a deep breath and sighed. "Why would anything I have to say matter, Uncle Bruce?"

"It wouldn't," he replied. "There are circumstances of which you are unaware."

And that was a lame answer if she'd ever heard one. Kala blew an irritated breath out of her nose. "Okay. So she's been in the house. Is there anything I need to worry about here? Seeing how the boys are running around like a flock of headless chickens?"

Dick jumped in with, "Yeah, well, you can thank me for saving the day. If she was checking up, I made it look like Kala was my girlfriend."

Kala rolled her eyes, and then Bruce said something that made it all very real for her. "Good. Kala, you shouldn't have to worry, but if you ever do encounter her again, you should know that her father bought four offshore salvage companies the year _your_ father came back to Earth."

Offshore salvage? Kala tilted her head, brow scrunched up, and Tim sucked in a whistling breath. She looked at him, suddenly pale, and he said, "That island … Kala, the kryptonite island Luthor made. Parts of it broke off and fell into the ocean when Superman flew it out to space."

"The U.S. military attempted to recover it, but they found surprisingly little," Bruce put in. "Estimates are that Ra's could have anywhere between a few hundred pounds and several _tons_ of impure but still lethal kryptonite."

At that, Kala blanched, and Jay put his hand on her arm. "At least Ra's is a greedy fucker. He's never sold it like Luthor does."

Just then, the phone they'd all forgotten piped up with Babs' voice. "Incidentally, Bruce, since I ignored your request to stop tracking the car, I thought you should know it passed by the East End without slowing down. I already sent Hel to Park Row just to keep watch."

Kala perked up at that. The East End was Catwoman's turf. Kala hadn't met her yet, though she'd been briefed. The thief occupied a gray area, sometimes assisting the Bats, sometimes being chased by them for her crimes. She wasn't a violent offender, though. More than capable of defending herself, she preferred to use stealth.

"That won't be necessary," Bruce growled.

"Too late, it's done," Babs snapped back. "Talia is an assassin with a motive. I'm not leaving any of our people unprotected." It only took Kala half a second to realize the motive. If this Talia was somehow or other _married_ to Bruce, she probably took exception to the flirting between Cat and Bat. And an assassin was the polar opposite of non-violent offender.

"Where's the Lamborghini now?" Bruce asked, completely ignoring Babs' defiance. Kala managed not to snicker at that; you couldn't beat Babs. She could out-stubborn the Bat himself.

"En route to the airport."

Dick sighed. "Thank God. She's on her way out. What did she want, anyway?"

"To tell me to stop trying to acquire the contract with Entreprises Guyot-Perrin. Ra's has that contract. Tim, Barbara, I want everything you two can find on the company by nightfall."

That occasioned some furious key-clicking on Tim's part, and muttered imprecations from Babs. "I'm checking all passengers on departing flights. We'll have scans of boarding passes and ID," the redhead added.

Jay, meanwhile, shook his head. "Wait. No way does she fly commercial." All of them looked at him, and he rolled his eyes. "Guys, _come on_. She's _Arabic_. You _know_ being any shade of brown is a great way to get yourself invited into the special line, and no way in hell is Talia al Ghul gonna let some jumped-up TSA _peasant_ grope her. No, if she's flying, it's either a chartered flight out of a private airfield or an unregistered trip in a cargo hold. Or her own helicopter, but she hasn't been seen stateside in a while and that's a long trip for any chopper."

"He has a point," Babs muttered. "I'm checking anyway, but I'll see what I can get on private flights."

"More likely she's just ditching the car at the airport and doubling back," Tim put in. He turned to look at Bruce. "We should double-check to be sure she has no connection with our operation against Mask."

Jay scoffed. "Nah, she thinks he's a peasant too. Actually, it's worse; Roman's a class traitor. He was born into money and acts like a common thug. Maybe she'll do us a favor and put a sword through him."

Dick crossed his arms and stared. Kala did too, one eyebrow up. She was the one who spoke. "You know an awful lot about her, don't you?"

For a half-second, Jay's eyes looked wild and hunted, and then he rolled his shoulders with a sigh. "Come on. Kala, you're in the dark, but the rest of you guys all had to know where I was part of the time I was quote-unquote 'dead', even before I confirmed it for you. Part of it was Philadelphia, part of it was all over Europe, and part of it was East Assfuckistan or wherever the hell Ra's has his base of operations. Most of that was under _her_ watch, because Ra's didn't give a shit about a catatonic ex-Robin. And being all kinds of fucked up didn't stop me from observing my surroundings. I know how she operates."

Kala rolled her eyes at the description, and Dick actually face-palmed. "Only you would be that un-PC, Jay. Way to go," she muttered.

He spread his hands and shrugged. "What, if it was in the States I'd be calling it East Assfuck, Arkansas. Since it's way the fuck out somewhere in the Middle East, Asia Minor, this is the best translation."

Bruce just nodded, as if he'd known where Jay was all along. "Get me that information by the end of the day. I'm going out." And with that he turned and left.

Kala huffed. "Yep. 'I am the niiiiiiight, do your homework while I go check up on at least one of my giiiiirlfriends.' Thanks, Uncle Bruce," she muttered.

Dick chortled, and Jay wheezed laughter. "Hey, come on. Cut the old man some slack. He's slept with half the League, he had to start on the villains eventually."

She stared at him incredulously, and then burst out laughing.

"If you're not helping, will you at least go away so I can concentrate?" Tim growled.

Dick slung an arm around Kala's shoulders. "Sure, sure. If you're really lucky we might bring breakfast up to you."

Kala nudged Dick's arm away, smirking. "We don't have an audience anymore, Mister Grayson."

She completely missed the look Jay was giving them as they all headed back downstairs for a delayed breakfast— _without_ any more surprise guests. Meanwhile he just quietly thanked whatever fucked-up gods there were that they had all gotten through the morning in one piece. Hell, he'd even managed to exchange a handful of words with Talia without shooting her, or getting stabbed. Best of all, she'd left without a clue that there was a Super in Gotham.


	30. Like Ricochet

**Authors' Note:** We made a Nolanverse reference here, but we don't follow its canon, especially regarding Talia. So far as we're concerned, the character played by Marion Cotillard was "Talia in Name Only". But they were really good films on their own merit, so we had to give a nod.

…

Batman did not roam by daylight, so it was Bruce who stopped in to visit Selina Kyle. It wasn't the Bat checking up on the Cat, warning her that her nemesis was in town. It was Bruce, looking in on a woman he loved – and warning her about the _other_ woman he loved. Selina, of course, just laughed fearlessly.

And with the warning aside, she purred like one of her own cats, her eyes avaricious on him. Currently she was the only feline in evidence. It never failed to unnerve Bruce, meeting her here in her apartment, that he rarely _saw_ the cats. There were a lot of them, but they were better at concealment than even _he_ was. And somehow she was able to keep them out of her bedroom … or they just objected to all the vigorous activity.

Only once Selina had settled into the curve of his side, her nails ever-so-lightly hooked into his shoulder into a gesture that was equal parts possession and satisfaction, did a cat jump up on the end of the bed and stare at him. Bruce didn't know all their names, but he knew _that_ one: Miss Kitty, a sleek solid black with too-intelligent green eyes. He stared at the cat, and she stared back at him as if he was invading her territory, before giving a yawn that showed off every sharp white tooth in her jaw.

Then she fell to grooming her toes, a gesture he couldn't help reading as insolent. _Cats._ They were the most reckless animals, in a way, never letting personal safety get in the way of making their point. And they absolutely _could not_ be intimidated.

Maybe that was why he liked them, and the woman who claimed their legend, so much.

"Are you doing something stupid that will bring your ex-mentor and the little wifey down on Gotham?" Selina murmured lazily, her voice half-muffled against his arm.

Bruce couldn't help a short bark of laughter, imaging Talia's face if she'd heard herself so described. "No. This case has nothing to do with the League of Shadows. It's strictly local."

"Mm. So you're doing something about all those missing kids, right?"

"Yes," Bruce told her, not giving away anything else.

"Good. About time. I thought the Hood was handling that, though."

"We both are." His tongue glued itself to the roof of his mouth before he could say that Jay was _home_ , finally, and how relieved he was at that. Selina had that effect on him; it was dangerous to speak so freely, even to her. His secrets had a way of getting people killed. Instead, Bruce just told her, "We thought we were working separate cases. It turned out to be the same one."

"And you've got the new girl, Blur, in on it," Selina said with a yawn and a stretch. Miss Kitty hopped onto the bed, walked up Bruce's body while only slightly using her claws, and leaned her head down for Selina to scratch. "Is that one gonna stick around?"

"Not likely," Bruce said. "She came to train, not to stay."

"Pity. She looks like fun." Selina rolled over, taking a sip of water from the bedside glass, then glanced back at him. "I'm sure you have business. _I_ am a lady of leisure, these days. Wouldn't want to distract you from your current case. So perhaps you should head out?"

He scoffed a little at her declaration. Selina always _claimed_ to have given up the thief's life, but something always tempted her back. He didn't think she could ever resist the thrill of it. Then again, he couldn't ignore his own calling, either. "Didn't know I was imposing. You expecting someone?"

"Not today," she chuckled. "Also I know you need to go find out if the Demon's Daughter actually _left_ , or if she's still lurking around town. Go take care of that, Bruce. I'll stay here where I'm nice and safe and have your kids watching over me like the over-protective little Bat-boys and girls they are."

Her smile had an edge to it, and Bruce stood and headed for the shower without another word. Few people could dismiss him as readily as Selina did. He accepted it, from her – she intended no cruelty, but she was eternally practical. She did loathe being 'coddled' by his occasionally overprotective family – and by him.

The cat curled up in the warm spot he'd left, and yawned mockingly at him.

…

For once, Bruce was late. He wasn't at training, he didn't meet them on patrol, and in light of that, the boys decided it was time to let Kala test her new suit out on a rooftop run. Nothing serious was happening in town at the moment, anyway, so Babs gave them the all-clear … and reminded them she'd be recording this for posterity.

In light of that, Jay had grinned wolfishly, looking at Dick and Tim. "Three to one is good odds, for a Super. At least, a Super _I_ trained," he laughed, and they both agreed. Kala cursed at them, but he was right.

Oh, he was _so_ fucking right. Getting thrown fifty feet across to the next roof was a surprise, but the look on Dick's face when she did the same to him was worth it. Tim was a little more conservative, a little more careful, and he almost got in the first blow.

Almost. Kala caught the bo staff and spun Tim in a rapid circle, knocking him off his feet. Jay chose that moment to shoot his grapnel at her feet, tangling her for a few seconds, and they all three rushed in.

Holy _fuck_ she was good, fending them all off unarmed and unable to take a step, just hovering a few inches off the ground while using all the sneaky tactics he'd taught her. Nerve strike for Dick, another toss for Tim, and she saved the elbow lock for Jay, smashing him flat onto the rooftop.

Then she kicked out, the grapnel line snapping, no match for her strength. It was a running fight then, Kala holding back on the powers, proving she could fight them on skill alone … and busting out little bits of speed and strength, just to remind them she had _that_ too. Worst of all, she was grinning like a fool the whole time, her eyes behind the domino sparkling with sheer joy.

Jay took a shot at her, Tim yelping like an old maid at the gunshot, and Kala whirled to slap the bullets out of the air. Then she slapped the gun out of his hand, and next thing he knew he was thirty feet _above_ the roof, Kala holding him by the jacket. She leaned right up in his face, nose to nose, her breath hot as she whispered, " _Showoff_."

No time to call her on it, because she fucking _dropped him_ , and it was a good thing he knew how to land. Dick took a swipe at her next, and Jay grinned to see those escrima sticks sparking. Kala didn't back off, she stepped _in_ , and let the mesh in her uniform disperse the charge harmlessly.

As electricity crackled over her forearm and down her back, she threw her head back and laughed, the same open and reckless laugh he'd seen in the pages of GQ. "Is that the best you've got?" Kala taunted, and holy shit, Jay was _doomed_.

…

The boys and Kala were thoroughly occupied, for which Bruce was grateful. Babs had not found a private flight out of Gotham that wasn't fully accounted for, so the airport had been a ruse. As he'd suspected. Babs _was_ feeding him intel on Guyot-Perrin; so far it looked as though Talia had been telling the truth. He wouldn't believe that until they'd gone over every single detail, though.

Meanwhile, he was searching for a few things the boys and Babs wouldn't think to check. They thought they knew all of Talia's aliases, but there was at least one he didn't think they'd ever heard. At least, not from him. And that name was the one out of dozens that popped up when he set the Bat computer to search hotel reservations.

Miranda Tate was a fairly 'normal' name, and did not fit Talia's usual pattern of using at least her real first initial. Which was, perhaps, why she used that name tonight. If it was even her, and not one of the dozens of women actually named Miranda Tate whom he knew to exist on the East Coast. Still, that name, in a five-star hotel in the Diamond District for tonight only, was worth closer scrutiny.

The hotel's security was very good, but not good enough to keep Batman out. He stepped into the room via the glass balcony door, and immediately heard a sound he knew well: the quiet click of a revolver, as its hammer went from full-cock back to safety. He had been in her sights from the moment he approached.

And then her voice, from the darkness further in the suite. "Hello, Beloved."

"Why did you stay?" he asked, keeping his voice harsh. Batman, not Bruce, was here tonight. Not that it mattered to her. She could meet him as Talia the woman or the Daughter of the Demon, and what she had in common with Selina – and with no other woman in his life – was that both sides of _her_ called out to both sides of _him_.

"Why did you seek me out?" she asked in turn, moving into the light. The sight of her took his breath away, as it always did. If only she wasn't who she was … or if only he wasn't who he was.

They both knew the answer to both questions was the same: because they couldn't resist one another. Not even after everything they'd both done to each other over the years. Like called to like, love called to love, and even though it might get both of them killed someday…

… he was here, and so was she. As they always would be. "Talia," he said softly, making her name a prayer.

"Beloved," she whispered back.

…

"Okay, yeah, the suit's definitely broken in now," Tim said irritably.

"I said I'm sorry," Kala replied, unable to help laughing a little. She'd tossed him off the roof, knowing he could catch himself, but he'd gotten his cape wrapped around a flagpole and needed a little assistance getting down. Which Kala was taking care of, hovering beside him, but Tim was decidedly _not_ happy about it.

"I could get loose on my own, but I'd rather not ruin this cape," he muttered.

"I know, Tim, I wouldn't have chucked you off the roof if I didn't know you could handle it," Kala replied. The last twist of fabric came loose, and she grabbed his hand, soaring back up to the rooftop where Dick and Jay waited. The latter had just shaken out a cigarette, and grinned at Tim, probably with some smartass comment on his lips.

Kala decided to forestall that, plucking the cigarette from his fingers faster than he could see, and flipping up the lenses in her domino to light it. "So, Mr. Superhero Fashion Designer, you proud of your work?" she teased, taking a long drag off the cigarette. His menthols were smoother than her cloves.

Jay looked at his empty hand for a second before realizing what she'd done, and he laughed. "Yeah, I am," he called back, sauntering over. Kala let him snatch it back, and he took a deep drag. "Nice built-in lighter, there. You got range on that?"

"Haven't had to use the heat-vision at a distance," Kala said, thoughtfully. "It might come in handy when you're being a douche. I'll just brand 'asshat' into that leather jacket from orbit."

"Be careful you don't brand it into him," Tim said archly.

Babs cut into all their comms at that moment. "If you're done playing – and Blur's done living up to her name – I actually have some work for you."

Jay crushed out the cigarette. "Sure, go for it. Not Mask, is it?"

"I wish," Babs muttered. "No, this one's easy, another armed robbery. GCPD is in a standoff. The pack of you would tip the odds in their favor very nicely." Then she was reading off coordinates, and all of them were on the move.

…

If Bruce let himself think about certain things, such as the absolute wreck of his personal life, his operational effectiveness would be nil. In any case, the Bat was more important than Bruce Wayne, and it was only Bruce who needed relationships. Only Bruce needed the good opinion of those he loved, and only Bruce could feel guilt for his failings. The Bat lived for justice alone, or so he pretended. The Bat also clung ruthlessly to whatever connections he could find to anything resembling normal humanity, and accepted responsibility for his errors with a stony resignation that was not the same as guilt.

He checked his watch, saw the data scrolling by beneath the time, and said, "Guyot-Perrin is working on a next-generation solar cell."

"Yes," Talia sighed. She hated talking business in bed, and let him know by the frost in her tone. "And yes, I know they leased the technology from L-Tech. I would not work directly with _that_ firm. Their shadow CEO is decidedly unstable."

"That technology should be kept strictly under wraps," Bruce told her.

"Like the Martians, and the Tamaranians, yes, I know your stance," Talia replied. "If they bring an entirely _other_ set of technological advances to Earth, we who are of this world ought to at least benefit from it. And the Kryptonians are particularly adept with solar power. You know we have long interests in renewable, clean energy."

If she knew she'd seen a Kryptonian in his house … no, that didn't track. Bruce rolled his shoulders, thinking. "Wayne Tech has a more direct line on the same solar cells."

"Yes, well, the Icon regards you as a friend," she said with a shrug, using her father's epithet for Superman. "I have no interest in dealing with that one. His technology is interesting, and useful, particularly as the energy demands of the modern world are only increasing. I can get what I need from Guyot-Perrin. If you _were_ to take that contract – and I suppose you could, if you decided you must – I would then be forced to deal with L-Tech."

"Stay away from Luthor," Bruce told her harshly.

She laughed, quietly. "I am not one of your children, to take orders from the Bat."

"Speaking of my children," Bruce said, and she went tense beside him. "Jay."

"Yes?" Talia asked, volunteering nothing.

"You put him in the Lazarus Pit." It was more statement than accusation.

Her eyes were narrow, assessing, her body language completely shut down as only she could. "I hoped to save him. He was … broken. Fundamentally damaged."

"Do you have any idea how many people he killed?" Bruce asked, a snarl rising in his throat.

She sighed, and flicked her hair over her shoulder. "More than you know. Child traffickers, murderers, drug dealers, bombers. He never harmed an innocent. He _defended_ them, in London."

"If you kill a killer, there are still the same number of killers in the world," Bruce muttered.

Talia laughed softly. "Not if you kill a great _many_ killers, Beloved."

They looked at each other across scant inches of space, and miles of philosophy. Talia had _always_ been lethal; she'd been a killer from childhood. Bruce … the _Bat_ could not kill. He knew, too well, that if he began, he would never stop. The part of him that howled for vengeance would never quiet, if he fed it once.

If he killed, he would be no better than her father.

"Jay isn't killing people now." It was almost a question.

"He has found another way," Talia said. "He seems to think I am his enemy, now. I assure you, I am not. Nor yours."

"He should never have gone into the Lazarus Pit," Bruce growled. "Jay was… He had anger issues before that. Lazarus fever brought out the worst in him."

"Jason should never have gone seeking his biological mother alone," Talia shot back. "And if he had _issues_ , as you say, you should have settled them before making him Robin."

" _I know that,_ " Bruce retorted.

"Then do not blame me, or the Pit. I kept him from killing you." Her eyes blazed with anger, and Bruce remembered when they had been a warm brown. The light green was an artifact of her own exposure to the Lazarus Pit, and he remembered too well how she'd blamed him for that. Her death at her sister Nyssa's hands, over and over and over again.

It might even _be_ his fault, in part.

"He's too much like me," Bruce muttered, not realizing he'd said it out loud.

"That he is," Talia told him, then stood up to stretch. "I have to be in Tokyo tomorrow. Take the room, if you wish. I cannot stay any longer than I already have." With that, she strolled toward the bathroom.

"I should be on patrol," he told her. She should've known he wouldn't stay in the hotel, given how little sleep he normally got.

"Then go," Talia said, turning to look at him from the doorway. And then she smiled, the curve of her lips sharp as a blade. "Or join me. Your hair already smells of the Cat's shampoo. The children will not be any more horrified if you return smelling of mine."

He couldn't help a slight wince at that reminder. The Bat might suffer no shame at his dalliances, but Bruce was still man enough underneath it all to hate being caught skipping from one to the other. Even if they both knew it.

…

All three boys and Kala returned to find Alfred dishing out lasagna for them. "Oh man, that smells delicious," Kala said, hurrying into the dining room.

Dick, however, paused and glanced around. "Is Bruce upstairs?" He hadn't been in the Cave when they'd all come in.

"Master Bruce had other obligations," Alfred said, with great dignity.

Jay scoffed. "Aww, did Catwoman really need _that_ much comforting? Jesus, he needs to pick a love interest already."

Dick snorted, and Jay cut him a look. _Don't say a word, Dickie-Bird,_ he thought. Not like Dick could throw stones; he was allergic to commitment, too.

Of course, he could read the look Dick gave him in return, grinning: _You have no room to talk, you're allergic to making a move._

Alfred meanwhile, served them all, and they settled into post-patrol chatter. It had been an easy night, but Jay was hoping they'd get the intel they needed on Mask sooner rather than later. The whole situation made him itchy, and he wanted to go check on his kids down in the Bowery. Just because they let Dinah bring them pizza didn't mean he necessarily trusted her report on their condition.

Tim was _still_ complaining about being thrown off the roof, and Kala was gently swatting his shoulder over it, when Bruce finally walked in. All of them fell silent, and Jay was glad he had a mouth full of food, because Bruce looked like he wouldn't have noticed a nuclear bomb going off beside him.

"Lasagna, Master Bruce?" Alfred said, appearing with a plate of deliciousness.

"Thank you," he said, sitting down to eat.

Jay managed to swallow, and caught Kala's eye. She was looking at him with disbelief. But it was Dick who actually _said_ something.

"Bruce, do you know you have a huge damn hickey on your neck?" Dick asked.

Jay snickered. "I guess Selina sends her regards?" he teased.

Bruce looked at both of them coldly … and Jay realized he was getting a little whiff of amber and clove, despite the smell of the lasagna. He _knew_ who wore that perfume, and it wasn't Selina. His eyes started to widen, but he clamped down on that reaction, making it look comical instead. No way did he want Bruce to know _how_ he knew that…

… but maybe he already did? No. He wouldn't have come in quietly if Talia had dropped that truth bomb on him. Neither of them had ever taken those vows seriously, but Jay thought that would change in a hurry if Bruce had _any idea_.

"Barbara found me the information I needed on Guyot-Perrin," Bruce said, choosing to ignore all of that. "I'll let the contract go, but I want to develop a contact inside the firm. The more we know about what Ra's is doing, the better."

Kala glanced over at Jay again, raising a brow. Shit, none of them had ever talked to her about Ra's except for the very, _very_ brief primer today. And if Bruce had his way, no one would. That didn't sit right with Jay, so he decided to make it his business to give her the abbreviated version. "Look, K, the guy's an eco-terrorist on steroids. He's got a bug up his ass about overpopulation, thinks the whole planet would be better off if there were a lot less people around. And being your typical megalomaniac asshole, Ra's thinks _he_ should choose who lives and who gets sacrificed to the cause. Bad news all around."

"Which is drastically simplifying the situation," Tim put in. "But other than buying up the kryptonite, he's never gone after your father."

"Ra's has little interest in Kryptonians," Bruce added. "I'm sure he bought the kryptonite as a precaution. If any of his plans ever came to fruition, he would eventually have to deal with the Supers. Until then, though, he works in secret."

"Yeah, let's keep _both_ of them uninterested in Kryptonians," Dick said, with a glance at Kala. "Black Mask is enough trouble to bring you in on, K. I'd rather keep all of our biggest boogeymen _away_ from you, no matter how well trained you are."

Kala just rolled her eyes. "Guys, I already _have_ an overprotective big brother. Who I really need to call tomorrow morning."

"Then we'd best all get to bed at a reasonable hour," Bruce said lightly.

"Any news on Mask?" Jay asked, since clearly he'd managed _some_ productivity at some point. When he wasn't shagging both of his women, and Jay hoped Bruce realized that Selina and Talia _had_ to know he was splitting time between them. It was a wonder he still had all his limbs and other body parts, as vicious as those two could be.

Bruce just shook his head. "Not yet. Barbara is watching all the known players. We'll get the intel in time."

Jay just had to hope he was right.

…

The next morning, Kala finally managed to return Elise's call. "Hey, sorry I'm late," she said as soon as Elise picked up. "Between the label and these damn boys, it's been crazy."

"I imagine," Elise said. "I'm glad you called, though, because one more day and Jason was gonna skip on over there to tell you the news."

"So what's up? Good news from New Mexico?" Kala tried to remember exactly what his summer project was, and failed. Her brain had stored up too much other information since she'd last talked to her twin.

Elise laughed merrily. "Actually, it probably _did_ happen in New Mexico. I've barely seen him this summer – and underground lab or no, the plains of Kansas get a little lonely. So when I did see him, I made good on it."

"Eww, don't tell me about it," Kala complained, though she was laughing nonetheless. "I'm glad you and Lizardboy have a healthy relationship, but there are some things twins shouldn't share."

"Says the girl who used to fake-flirt with me, saying twins share everything," Elise scoffed.

"I was weeding out the unworthy and you know it," Kala shot back. "Also, you were my friend first. You basically left me for him."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm still your friend, quit whining," Elise said. "You wanna hear this news, or not?"

"Of course I do, so hit me," she laughed. God, she missed them both.

Elise actually gave a little squeak of delight, and said, "So … I'm pregnant."

Kala's eyes went wide. " _What?!_ I thought you guys were having trouble with that! Second generation hybrids and everything. Oh my God, congratulations!"

"We were, and it turns out things are a little more complicated than we thought, but yep, we managed it. You're gonna be the cool rockstar aunt," Elise continued, laughing.

This was just what Kala needed, a breath of fresh air to cut across the fog of worry about their upcoming showdown with Black Mask, and she lost herself in the conversation gladly.

…

Selina woke up to the sound of a cat growling, very softly. Usually her clowder were quiet in the apartment, reserving vociferous quarrels for the alley outside. But this morning, Miss Kitty was perched on the foot of the bed, growling low and steadily.

Opening her eyes, Selina saw why. Talia al Ghul was seated at her vanity, looking at the cat with one brow arched in disbelief. "Finally," she said, as Selina sat up. "You really ought to have Bruce do something about your security."

Selina reached out and stroked Miss Kitty's raised hackles. The cat settled herself, staring imperiously at the intruder. "Why bother? It works for any of the problems in this town, and nothing he could do would keep _you_ out. Speaking of which, is this a social call?"

She would never, ever show fear, and in truth, she wasn't really afraid of Talia. If the assassin wanted her dead, well, all nine of her lives would be forfeit. The woman's _business_ was death. Selina refused to show anger, either, or jealousy, mostly because Talia expected it.

Besides, much as it drove her nuts, Bruce _did_ love this one. All the others – and damn, there were a lot of others – didn't matter to him the way the two of them did. Not even Wonder Woman, and that had been a bit of a shake to Selina's ego, finding _that_ out.

"Bruce is investigating Black Mask," Talia said, and Selina managed not to bristle. She had an old grudge against Sionis, and of course Bruce hadn't told her what they were looking into. He rarely did. Talia tossed something her way, and Selina caught it – a jump drive. "I had my people look into it; we have other avenues of investigation. Those are Sionis' financials, including how to track down the accounts from his own computers so that he may continue monitoring them. Sionis has a client list for something planned in the very near future. Give that to Bruce, when you see him next."

Selina cocked her head, regarding the other woman thoughtfully. "You're making me your messenger girl? Cute, but I already saw Bruce last night. Take it over there yourself, and complain about _their_ security."

Talia smiled, cold as one of her own knives. "I already saw him last night, as well. I have to be in Tokyo tonight, and I must catch a plane within the hour to make my appointment. Besides, you would not miss an opportunity to see Pennyworth, would you?"

"Alfred is the only sane person in that house, and that's coming from _me_ ," Selina said with a chuckle. "Fine, fine, I'll run it over there for you. Go catch your plane. Maybe next time you're in town we can have a girls' night out. Paint our nails, bitch about men, maybe even rob a bank." With that, she got out of bed and walked right past Talia, never mind that she was in the nude. Her robe was on the back of the door, and it didn't hurt to remind the Demon's Daughter that Catwoman was not in the least intimidated by the fully-dressed and heavily-armed assassin.

"If I need a bank, Miss Kyle, I'll buy one," Talia said, rising as well.

"Ah, the _vieux riche_ ," Selina chuckled, taking her robe and slipping it on. Talia couldn't offend her, either. What the assassin thought of as class and breeding, Selina considered pretension.

Talia just headed for the window she'd evidently come in, and that was when one of the other cats hopped up on the foot of the bed and meowed at her. Selina cut a sharp look at Mouse, who had maybe a tenth of Miss Kitty's brains, but the assassin just petted the white cat on her way by. Selina let out a breath, quietly. She hadn't _thought_ Talia was the kind to take out her frustrations on an innocent animal, but – the fastest way to find out how sharp Catwoman's claws really were, was to harm someone or something under her protection.

Mouse purred, happy for attention from anyone, and Miss Kitty looked at the big white cat with a uniquely feline expression of disdain.

Talia stopped at the window, and looked at Selina, as if she'd felt the weight of her eyes. "Stay out of this one, Cat," Talia warned. "I suspect Sionis is into something gruesome. And – it would break him, to lose you."

"Black Mask is _always_ into something ugly," Selina said. "Maybe the boys will put him away for good, this time. You know Hood's in on this one?"

"Yes," Talia replied, and disappeared out the window.

Selina stopped, watching the spot where she'd been. Weird of her to leave like that, at the mention of Hood. _Something_ was up, there, but she doubted either Talia or Bruce would ever give her a clue.

At least she'd won this round, by her own estimation. Selina grinned, examining the diamond bracelet she'd taken off Talia's wrist as she passed by. Deadly assassin she might be, but to the world's most talented thief, she was just another mark.

Mouse meowed again, and jumped to the vanity to bump her head against Selina's arm. "Why do I fall for men with so much baggage?" she asked, petting the cat.

No answer from Mouse, of course, but Miss Kitty yawned hugely. Selina just chuckled, and moved over to affix the bracelet around Miss Kitty's slender neck. "Here, love, have a souvenir. And don't judge me, you're spayed."

She slid the jump drive in her pocket, decided _not_ to copy it since it was probably encrypted, and went to go make coffee. With a little luck, she could drop by the Manor when no one else was home, and give the information to Alfred.


	31. Full Circle

Jay practically vibrated with tension. Finally, they had a date – and it was _now_. Bruce had been damn cagey about admitting that their information on the client list had come from _Talia_ , but after double-checking, it turned out to be solid. She was pretty damn useful sometimes … and even better, she had actually _left_ Gotham after one more little reminder of what she was: she'd gone to Selina's apartment, which was under surveillance the whole time, and dropped the files off to Catwoman.

Who turned up at lunch the next day to hand them over to Alfred. Selina hadn't stayed around long enough to meet Kala, but the arch way she'd spoken to Bruce as she left made it utterly clear what she and Talia both thought of him. Jay was just glad there hadn't been any bloodshed on that score. Yet.

From what financials indicated, a whole bunch of rich assholes had just made their down payments and were waiting impatiently for Black Mask to fire up his human chop shop. Which would be _tonight_ , hence the plotting.

Leaning against the computer console, Jay eyed the building plans for Black Mask's HQ closely. "I'm still not sure we should make this so much of an assault," he pointed out to Bruce, who merely looked up at him wearily from his large chair— _throne,_ Jay thought with an inner snicker, _it might as well be a throne, the way he rules from it._ "The place is a freakin' fortress, it's so well guarded."

"I'm well aware of that, Jason," Bruce finally conceded. "Which is why we use the flash-bangs at the front entrance. They're a distraction, and an easy way to incapacitate a large number of guards."

Jay stood fully and rubbed his eyes with one hand. "Of course they are. I need more coffee."

"Should've thought of that before you decided to spend the last three nights sitting up in the library."

The hair on the back of Jay's neck stood up at that, his nerves prickling. "How the hell d'you know about that?" he grumbled.

Bruce smiled faintly up at him. "The same way I know that you got into Alfred's private stash of scotch. You're lucky he didn't say anything to you about it."

Dammit, he should've figured. "Great. Can't a guy do anything around here without getting tattled on?"

"Nope," came a voice from the vicinity of the stairs leading up to the study. "Alfred's intel is almost as good as Babs'."

Jay turned to find Dick sauntering down into the Cave, a sly smirk on his face. If he wasn't so tired, maybe Jay wouldn't want to punch the look off of him so badly. "Naturally," he shot back, moving over to give big bro space to join the impromptu planning meeting.

"So what's up?" Dick asked, still smiling.

Leave it to him to be chipper this early in the day. God knew he was the only Bat capable of it.

Bruce hummed, fingers tapping a few keys on the console. When closer schematics of several parts of the building popped up on the screen, he went on, "We'll be going in through these three entrances. Secondary roof access, the door next to the delivery bay, and right in the front door. If for some reason either of those turn out to be blocked, there's access through the warehouse, but that's only a last resort."

"Why the secondary roof access? Why not the main stairwell?" Jay asked, his eyes swimming as he blinked at the plans.

Dick piped up, "The recon I did last night showed they have a man inside on the stairwell, in addition to the two guarding the roof. We take the two out on the roof before they can radio in, and we'll have no trouble getting in the secondary door. Have to go down the elevator shaft, but it's not like we haven't done things like that before."

Jay blinked again. "Damn. This is what I get for heading straight for the showers, isn't it?" he complained. Truth be told, though, he'd needed a shower bad after last night's patrol; getting doused by stale sprinkler water after a small fire set it off in a tenement building had been one of the stinkiest experiences of his life. That shit was just _gross._

Another grin, and Dick nodded. "Yep. Next time you'll suffer through it like the rest of us. Even _Kala_ stuck around long enough to get debriefed."

"Bite me, Grayson," Jay snapped halfheartedly, a tired smirk trying to tug at his mouth.

At that, Dick clacked his teeth at him. "Name the time and place, and I'll happily oblige."

In his chair, Bruce rolled his eyes. "Are you two through?"

Jay sighed, pushing a hand through his hair. "Yeah. So, secondary rooftop access, the loading bay door, and the main entrance. Teams?"

A few more keys tapped, and glowing circles appeared on the plans, in red, green, blue, purple, and white. "Dick, you and Kala will be setting the flash-bangs," Bruce explained, pointing out the blue and white circles. "If need be, Dick, you'll draw the guards away. Kala will also draw fire, and as soon as the entrance is cleared, you'll both come in that way."

"Got it," Dick nodded.

"Jason, you and Tim will enter via the elevator shaft, hit Mask's office first to collect any intel you possibly can, then proceed to the operating floor. I'll go in via the loading bay door, and work my way directly up to the operating floor. With Dick and Kala drawing most of the attention, I should have no problem getting there unnoticed. The end goal is for all of us to converge there after taking down Black Mask's crew, and rescue the victims, while capturing as many of Mask's people as we can."

Jay couldn't help grinning to himself. If he was going straight in for Mask's office, then there was a chance he'd find the bastard first. And with Tim at his side, well, who would tell if Mask fell on a few dozen bullets? Baby Bird sure as hell wouldn't.

"No problem," he answered. But the fact that Kala would be on the frontal assault finally hit him, and the thought tied a knot of concern in his gut. "Kind of overly-relying on Supergirl, though, aren't we? You sure you want her on the front line?" Shit, this was not the plan he'd been working out in his head for the last three days; Kala was supposed to be aerial support, coming in through the roof with Jay, not blasting in the front with Wing. It was too damned dangerous. Too crazy. Too—

Bruce shook his head. "Kala will be fine. She's been well trained, and has the talents to do what's asked of her. This was her job the first night we took on Black Mask, too, remember? I seem to recall her drawing fire with no issues, and even protecting one man from _your_ bullets. Besides, if anything goes sideways on our ends, she's our backup. And her presence will be pivotal on the operating floor. Anyone they've begun operating on will need rapid transport."

The rationale sunk in slowly alongside the stinging barb of Bruce's not-so-subtle reminder of that night, when Jay had first seen Kala look green over a cooler of human organs, and he frowned. Was K even ready to deal with a rescue operation on this level? Sure, she'd handled rescues before—her dad was the king of all last-minute saves, and had seen it all—but no way could she be prepared to see people halfway dead from having all their vital organs cut out. She'd probably lose her lunch.

Or maybe Jay was underestimating her. Wasn't he the one that had told Bruce just how fucking _good_ she was in a fight? Hadn't he been the one that told Kala she'd kick serious ass? What the fuck was his hind-brain suddenly up to, that it couldn't handle the thought of Kala doing just what they'd all trained her to do?

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he groaned. "Yeah, okay. Jesus, I just need more coffee for this."

Bruce smiled faintly up at him again—wow, that was never gonna get old—and tapped a few keys to close down the plans. "Go get coffee, Jason," he ordered. "And try to get some more sleep before nightfall. We'll go over all this again later, with everyone present."

A nod, and Jay turned to head for the stairs, glad to be excused from the meeting after Bruce had so rudely interrupted his morning java with a call to go over the preliminary plans for the mission. But Dick caught up with him as he ascended toward the study, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, you okay, little bro?" he asked, genuine concern showing on his face.

Jay blinked at him, humming noncommittally. He had way too much on his mind to even _start_. This mission against Mask hit a lot of sore spots, given his own history as a street kid much like many of Mask's targets. Speaking of history, he'd never expected _Talia_ to show up and complicate all their lives. It looked now like she was well and truly gone, despite the cute trick with the intel that proved they couldn't track her. Maybe he could breathe a little easier for now, even though he knew that particular Freudian train wreck was gonna come back to bite him sooner or later. Then there was the whole business with Kala and how he couldn't stop acting like an overprotective idiot mother hen – at least when he wasn't trying to forget almost getting down and dirty with her on the mats back at the bunker.

Dick took a stab at it, and luckily he picked the least painful option. "Let me guess. K has you wound up in knots. She's eating your brain."

At that, Jay couldn't help a groan, tossing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut briefly. Bad enough that he couldn't hide, Dick _had_ to keep harping on it. Maybe if he agreed, Golden Boy would shut up. "Like a zombie. And not one of the slow ones, either. Full-on speedy _28 Days Later_ kinda zombie that you just can't get away from."

Dick laughed. "Oh yeah, you're a goner. That would sure explain what's been keeping you up at night."

Another hum, and Jay scowled. "I'm gonna be shit for the raid tonight if I can't get some damn sleep. And apparently Alfred's private stash is off the table for helping me get those zees."

They reached the top of the stairs then, Dick pushing open the hidden door to admit them to the study. "I'm surprised you haven't just crashed out already."

Jay surprised himself by groaning as he stepped out of the stairwell behind Dick. "It's a miracle I'm upright, man."

Finally, Dick caught him by the elbow, pulling him around to catch his gaze. "Good God, you really are a mess. Look, go try to sleep, and forget the coffee. And just kiss her already before we head out tonight. It'll take the stress off, I assure you."

"You speaking from experience?" Jay shot back, one corner of his mouth lifting weakly. Jesus fuck, _kiss_ her? If that went sour he'd be fighting Mask with a broken jaw. Dick must be out of his goddamn mind.

"Absolutely," Dick grinned. "Not _her_ , of course, but it's still experience. Remember who I trained alongside. It'll be the best thing you ever did. Give you a boost in the ego department, and ease up on the tension. Trust me."

Groaning as he and Dick parted ways, Jay slapped his own forehead. Fuck. Tonight was gonna be worse than he'd figured, because now he had to get _kissing Kala_ out of his head if he wanted to function. Bad enough he'd essentially avoided her for the last few days out of simple survival instinct, anything to keep from pouncing on her on the nearest available surface, but this … this was a whole new level of needing to keep the hell away from the girl whose life he did _not_ need to complicate. He'd be no good to anybody if all he did during the mission was pine over Kala like some dumbass teenager with an epic crush. Or maybe just a horny little dog infatuated with her leg.

Maybe Dick was right, maybe kissing her and getting it over with would ease up on the worst of the tension. Even if she slapped the hell out of him, at least they'd be dealing with it somehow, instead of pretending it never happened.

Then again, maybe a shower would relax him enough so he could get some damn rest, and not have to deal with this mess at all until much later. Maybe.

…

Kala was lost in thought as she came out of the bathroom, twisting her damp hair up into a knot once she'd scrunched all the wetness she could from it. Honestly, she'd been walking around in a daze since she'd first awakened. Ever since she'd called Sebast and her parents last night to tell them that she'd be off the grid until the end of the week, she'd felt off-kilter. Sebast, of course, hadn't been pleased with this news in the slightest and had crabbed over it, but her parents had understood. Like Mom had said, "Final exam time, huh? Feel like you're ready?"

Funnily enough, the answer to that question was feeling more and more like 'yes', while she felt more and more like she would answer in the negative if anyone asked her if she was ready to leave. With a sigh of self-disgust, she opened the closet and pulled out jeans and a t-shirt. She'd have to change again before the final mission meeting started after lunch, but she didn't care. Too many thoughts were swirling around in her head to have to click over to the Blur at the moment. And too damn many of them involved a certain man in a red domino.

Doffing her robe, Kala quickly changed and set about getting ready to go downstairs, thoughts of that certain man and the events of the past few days determinedly dogging her. They'd all been on lockdown and surveillance duty every night, getting in late and all exhausted once the debriefings were over. Extra surveillance, after a certain assassin had breezed through town. Everyone had been on a pretty tight schedule: up, dressed, breakfast, downstairs to review any pertinent information that had come down since they'd broken for the night, review the tapes from the night before and into the morning, rearrange plans to suit any changes, and it was usually time to head out by the time that was finished. Food figured in there somewhere beyond the constant infusion of caffeine, but it hadn't exactly been scheduled in; sometimes is just wasn't possible to get a real meal in, much to Alfred's chagrin.

Even though it had been pretty punishing, Kala had thrown herself entirely into it, both trying to stay focused and attempting to save frayed tempers with witty quips wherever she could. Anything to keep herself from living in her own head and thinking about things she had no business considering. _God, I can't even say what it is and who it's about in my head. That's a bad sign. Jesus, Jay, who the hell told you that you could camp out in my brain?_ But the thought made her flush. The last couple of nights, camping had decided _not_ been what they were doing. She should've been shaking in her shoes over the fact that they were going up against Black Mask's people again tonight, actually engaging them and shutting them down. And she was, she truly was, but she could still see every moment of the dream she'd had close to dawn in the back of her mind and she just couldn't let it go, images she'd rather not admit to still fresh and clear, as if it had really happened, and she and Jay had—

Sitting down on the bed to pull her boots on, Kala reminded herself sternly that no matter how he was invading her dreams, she shouldn't let things go any further. Shouldn't let this get under her skin. Should stop acting like a love-struck moron of a girl and just acknowledge the attraction and move on. Boys could do it, she'd seen her little band of lost boys do it all the time, and normally, she could, too. So what made whatever this thing with Jay any different? Why wasn't she being able to let it go? Why had she been avoiding him beyond the daily routine since that night in the study?

And that was the worst part. She was pretty sure she knew why, but just thinking it, much less saying it aloud, terrified her. Okay, yeah, so maybe somewhere in the middle of all of the craziness of this summer, she'd found herself wanting him. Unexpectedly, sure, but it'd happened all the same, even if he really wasn't like any guy she would've ever picked for herself. Especially since the super-powered crowd had never even had the slightest crack at Superman's daughter. No way would she have ever let herself get involved with a cape—powers or no. Well, except for Rokk, but that had just been a stupid teenage crush that he'd treated as sweet, but nothing more. She'd been ignoring even the possibility of such a thing ever since she'd first made her debut, and now here it was, rearing its ugly head in spite of her best intentions, in the middle of one of the most dangerous situations she'd ever put herself in. One summer in Gotham and she was losing her mind.

"Shit, Jay, get out of my head," she grumbled to herself as she finished with her boots. "Neither one of us need this right now."

With an aggravated huff, Kala stood up and headed out the door. If she was lucky, she still had time for lunch, and she knew Alfred was holding it for later than usual because Jay was napping. Napping! The big bad Red Hood taking a nap; she couldn't decide if that was completely adorable or outright pathetic.

Truth be told, she was starting to worry about him. He'd been looking more and more tired lately, and especially since that night in the library, she thought, closing her door behind her. Who knew if he was just staying up reading, like he had the other night, or had been running the tactical plans for their little mission over and over in his head? Everyone knew that Black Mask was one that he considered a priority target, and whose operations he took very personally. There was no denying it, especially considering the way Jay kept disappearing down to the Cave with Bruce to go over mission details. She could see how badly Jay wanted to impress the older man, but running himself ragged triple-checking things and not getting any sleep wasn't going to help anyone.

Speaking of which, the man himself emerged from his room just as Kala hit the landing at the top of the stairs. Giving him a once-over, she had to admit that he looked a little better than the last time she'd seen him, but still seemed a little wrung out. To hell with it, she thought; after tonight's takedown, she'd keep an ear out for him once the rest of the household had settled. He'd get some rest tonight even if she had to personally see to it and return the favor he'd done for her those few weeks ago.

As soon as the thought occurred to her, though, Kala mentally bit her tongue. She _so_ had to stop this, even if she couldn't deny her body's reaction to the image that flashed through her mind. God, it was such a bad idea. Unable to help her smile as she watched him swallow a yawn and run a hand through his hair, she called out, "Nice of you to join us, Sleeping Beauty. Get a good nap in?"

Jay blinked at her blearily, looking almost as if he wanted to turn around and head back into his room and hide, but then yawned again, finally uprooting himself from the spot in front of his door and joining her on the landing as she started down. "Sleep is for the weak," he finally said, cracking a small smirk at her.

"Mm-hmm," Kala returned skeptically, eyeing him sideways as they fell into step beside one another on the broad staircase. "That's practically our family motto, you know. More than a little familiar with it. But what about the Big Bad Red Hood? You've never struck me as much of an insomniac. All that yawning gives the impression you'd really rather still be in bed."

Oh shit, she did not just say that. _Real smooth. The family weakness for double-entendres rears its annoying head._ _Hi, Kala, why don't you just tell him point-blank exactly where your mind has been? Idiot_. Mentally face-palming, Kala wrinkled her nose and turned her focus away from Jay.

A warm, rumbling hum met her in reply then, and she couldn't resist looking back over at him, catching his gaze. He looked like he either wanted to curl up with a teddy bear, or go do other things that weren't nearly so innocent … and Kala found herself not quite sure which option she was hoping for.

Jeez, he really must've been tired, if he was looking at her like that so openly.

Despite herself, a blush rose on her cheeks. There was no way he could know what scenarios had been running through her head, but still, it unsettled her. When was she going to stop making a fool of herself? And why the hell couldn't she keep it under control around him? Clearing her throat, she tore her gaze away again, and shook her head. _Jesus, get your head in the game, kid._ "You even gonna be ready for the mission, Mister Hood? I'm sure Bruce would hate to find one of his team slumped over asleep on the job," she teased him. Maybe if he got defensive, it'd stop him from looking at her like that, and she could focus without her hormones trying to wrestle control of her brain.

Jay frowned at that—as expected, thank goodness—and glared at her. "I'll have you know I got plenty of sleep. A good, rigorous workout does wonders."

She faltered a little then, frowning slightly. "Pardon?" She hadn't heard him head down to work out at any point, so—

"Nothing," Jay said quickly, turning his gaze straight ahead as they got to the bottom of the stairs at last.

It took everything she had to just put one foot in front of the other and not stumble as her mind locked on to what he might've meant. If her face was flushed before, she knew her cheeks were burning now. _Oh._ Oh holy God, she didn't even want to _think_ it, but now the image was in her head, and she didn't know whether she wanted to scratch her eyes out or go back upstairs and forget about lunch, maybe get in a 'nap' of her own.

 _Have you lost it? Stop it. Reality check, you have a serious mission on the burner tonight and it's a little more important than you wanting to nail Jay to the wall like some kind of crazy woman. Stop it right now and get your mind on tonight's game and out of the gutter, or it's no more Blur for you, woman,_ she scolded herself. Stupid hormones were out to get her, she swore. What had gotten into her over the last few days, anyway? What the hell did the two of them think they were doing?

Kala took a deep breath then, forcing herself to change the topic out loud. "So, lunch?" she said, nearly having to clear her throat again. "I hear Alfred's making spaghetti and meatballs so we can carbo-load. You might have heard that we've got a big takedown tonight. Some guy called Black Mask? Didn't you tell me you knew something about him?" Grinning sardonically, all she could hope for was to bring them back to status quo.

When Jay's mouth turned up at that, his eyes seeming to light up with mischief, Kala breathed a quiet sigh of relief, and they strode through the doors to the kitchen together.

…

Calling up another screen after running down the bulk of the mission details for the whole team, Bruce pointed out a number of red glowing dots, positioned at each entrance to Black Mask's building. "All our recon has pointed to ten guards on the front, four on the back, the two on the roof, one on each level of the main stairwell, and four on the operating level, not including any 'medical' staff that might be present. No more than ten men for each of us, assuming if we encounter more along the way. You all know your route in, and know what to expect. Any questions?"

Jay shook his head and bit the inside of his cheek, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked to the rest of the assembled group to gauge their reactions to the full weight of the plan. He still didn't much like the fact that Kala was on the front line on this, but on the other hand, he knew exactly what she was capable of. Shit, when did he get so damn protective? Wasn't like she couldn't hold her own against even the worst that Gotham had to offer at this point.

His gaze landed on her of its own accord then, catching hers for a fraction of a second as she stood on the other side of Bruce's chair. She didn't seem too put out by the fact that she was on first assault; Jay had only seen a flicker of concern cross her features when Bruce had informed her that she might need to transport victims to the hospital.

 _Get hold of yourself, Todd,_ he grumbled to himself. _She'll do fine._

He refused to admit that his concern was anything more than professional, even if he knew damn well that that wasn't it at all.

"I have a question," Tim said from beside him, his expression partly obscured by his black domino. "What are the odds that Black Mask knows we're coming, and the traps and personnel we're aware of are only the tip of the iceberg?"

That pulled Jay's attention up from the irrational protectiveness that he couldn't seem to shake, turning his focus back on the mission. They'd fully accounted for the traps and guards they'd discovered in recon the last two nights and those that his contact had alerted them to, but should the unexpected arise, there was at least a protocol to dealing with it. "Probably one hundred percent," he grumbled while Bruce pulled up another screen on the monitor. He hated like fuck to admit it, but the odds that Mask was already onto them were high; some people you just couldn't surprise after you'd dealt them a few blows, and Mask was an oily fucker like that. "There's always a chance that my guy got us faulty intel, and the whole place is rigged to blow," he went on. "We just can't know for sure what Mask is really prepared for."

On a different set of building plans, several places were highlighted, the traps they knew of glowing green—charges wired up to all the exterior doors and the entrance to the main operating theater, devices rigged to deliver an EMP if the computers in the place were tampered with, gas bombs set up on the operating level—and no less than seven places outlined in red, including the stairwell, Mask's office, another office level, and the elevator.

"These are the known traps," Bruce pointed out, indicating the green sections, that they'd already covered in detail. "Those in red are potentials. You all know the drill: eyes open, assume everything is rigged, don't touch or move anything without a thorough inspection. If something looks too good to be true, it probably is."

Jay blew a breath out his nose, unable to help a prickle of irritation from crawling along his nerves. It wasn't like they needed a refresher course in dealing with unknowns; proceeding with extreme caution was SOP. Then again, drilling SOP into Kala's head seemed to have become a common routine for the whole team over the last few months. Training was a bitch like that. Shit, maybe he needed another nap before they did this thing.

The time for catching zees had come and gone, though. He'd managed a few hours of sleep—dream-filled, though that had turned out to be both a blessing and a curse, leaving him refreshed but just as physically frustrated as before—after the initial briefing this morning, and that'd have to do. A last cup of coffee before heading down to the Cave after dinner had helped, too. As long as he didn't let Kala distract him too much, he should be okay.

If he was honest with himself—not something he'd apparently been making a habit of lately—it wasn't really Kala's fault he kept getting distracted. It was his own damn thirteen-year-old self that couldn't seem to keep it in his pants. He'd just have to do his best to shut that part of himself up. Probably a good thing that they wouldn't be working together tonight unless things went completely sideways. What had he even been thinking, trying to put Kala on rooftop duty with him?

"Everyone on board?" Bruce finally asked as he started to shut down the plans spread across the various screens. A round of nods—some eager, some mildly concerned, Jay couldn't quite be sure which were which at this point—and he went on, "Good. You all know the primary objective: get inside, disarm and disable as many men as you can, gather any intel you can find along the way, and proceed to the operating level. Above all, this is a rescue mission." Looking specifically at Jay and Tim as he rose from his chair, he added, "Black Mask himself is a secondary concern, got it?"

Jay nodded in reluctant agreement, Tim mirroring him, and even though they both knew that Mask was theirs if they found him, there would be no argument with Bruce. The Bat's word was as good as set in stone. They'd just have to find a really damn good loophole. Not a problem in the slightest.

Cracking his neck as they all disbanded then, everyone already suited up and ready to roll, Jay took one last look at the plans on the screen before they all disappeared. If things went down as he feared they might—ambush, hidden charges, more men that they'd accounted for, Mask getting the fuck away … Kala getting hurt—this was gonna be an even bigger mess than that night in the warehouse. He just had to remember their primary objectives, and stay the hell focused. Save the victims, gather intel … kill the fuck out of Black Mask. That was all that mattered.

"Earth to Red," said a voice entirely too close to him then, and Jay had to force down a startle, cursing himself for letting her sneak up on him as they hit the auto level. "You sure you don't need another nap?" she asked, one eyebrow raised over her domino and a quirky smile on her lips.

Fuck, was she reading his mind now, too? He'd thought only a select few in the League had that particular talent.

Biting the inside of his cheek again, he shook his head. "Nah, I'm good to go. You ready for this?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," she replied with a shrug. Pausing as she started off toward Tim's bike—her usual ride since they'd been back at the Manor—she looked at Jay more thoughtfully. "You sure you're all right? You've been kind of … I dunno, out of it, since lunch."

Jay blinked at her, rolling his helmet in one hand absently after grabbing it from its usual spot on his bike. He supposed that was true, he _had_ been entirely too preoccupied today, and it was throwing him off his game. Maybe Dick had been right this morning, and he should just kiss Kala and get it the fuck over with so he could get that necessary focus back.

But then he just shook his head, frowning. Kissing her would just complicate things, and complications were _not_ needed right now, not when they were about to go in, full assault, on Black Mask's compound.

"Just distracted," he finally said, only barely admitting to the full truth of things. "Nothing to worry about. I'll get over it."

When engines started up around them, Jay managed at last to shake off the spell that Kala had seemed to have him under, and he gestured to his own bike. "You riding with me, or what?" he asked her, since she hadn't moved off to go ride with Tim. Least he could do was fucking offer, dammit.

Kala glanced at his bike, then back over her shoulder at Tim, and nodded. "Yeah. We're all heading the same place, anyway." Waving Tim off, she stepped over, donning her black helmet on the way. "Let's go."

Sliding his own helmet on and latching it secure, Jay straddled the bike and started the engine, his chest tightening despite his best efforts to keep his damn cool. When Kala got on behind him, her body warm against his back, for a second he thought he was gonna need to go back upstairs and take care of a few things before he could function for the damn mission. But no, he could do this. He hadn't been trained to keep his mind clear for nothing.

And yet … split focus was a skill he knew he had to have learned somewhere along the line. He couldn't fucking remember, with half his blood suddenly making a valiant effort to escape to points south. Whatever, he could make this work.

"Channel three," he told Kala without activating his comm as he gunned the engine, taking them out of the Cave, her arms wrapping around his waist as they sped up. "Private line."

Feeling her body shake against his as she laughed in response wasn't gonna help him much, but still, he couldn't help a grin beneath his helmet. Even if the night turned into a total clusterfuck, at least it'd be interesting.

…

Tim cut her a critical look, but Kala waved him off as if it was nothing and straddled the bike behind Jay. A small, amused smile curved her lips as his heart sped up a bit when she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him. Now _really_ wasn't the time, but thinking about the attraction between them helped keep her mind off what they were about to do, and she couldn't help snickering at his suggestion of their private channel; it'd be a nice distraction from the low level of anxiety she'd been feeling for days now.

Switching her comm to channel three, she allowed herself a quirk of a smile as they roared out of the Cave and down the back road toward Gotham proper. "Private line, huh?" she asked teasingly. "Hey, you gave me back, so you shouldn't be getting me to yourself anymore. But since I'm here, there anything in particular you wanna pass on, Red?"

The muscles of Jay's back and core tensed beneath her arms, and he shot back, "Nothin' in particular. Just thought we'd go over the mission again. You know, without everyone else listening in."

A hum in return, and she leaned with him as they rounded a turn in the road. That said, the nerves started creeping back in. So much for distracting herself.

"If you wanna," he added when she didn't say anything else.

The slow realization that Jay was putting the ball in her court hit her then, and it seemed so utterly incongruous that she had to smile beneath her helmet. If she didn't know better she'd think her hard-ass trainer was _concerned_ for her. The thought managed to untie the knot of anxiety in her chest, at least a little, and she relaxed against him as they rode on, gripping his waist tighter and resting her chin on his shoulder.

"I'm good with the mission, you know," she said after a long moment, filtering a little more bravado into her tone than she actually felt. "Love the spotlight, remember? A wise old sage once said that every night's a show for me, remember?" Nudging him with a knee, she snickered. Leave it to Jay to find a way to get to her without even trying.

"It's gonna be one hell of a show, then," he replied. "You're liable to have more fans show up than you bargained for, K. Crazy stalker fans that just want to cut out a piece of you to keep as a souvenir. You ready for that?"

A slow breath, and Kala took a good, long minute to really think about that, not that she particularly wanted to. She'd faced down a lot of fears regarding this mission, from the fear of screwing up and not being able to stick tight to protocol, to the fear that something would go wrong and she'd be called upon to handle more than she was ready for, but she'd defeated each of those in turn.

For one thing, everyone else, Uncle Bruce included, believed she was ready. She'd trained intensively with all of them, and their methods were second nature to her now, Jay's especially. She wouldn't screw up, not with the confidence that her training had given her. She knew damn well that she could kick ass and take names, even without the blessings of the yellow sun. Add her powers to that solid foundation, and she knew she would be an asset to any team.

For another thing, their intel was top-notch, thanks to Jay's informant and their thorough recon from the past few nights. They all knew that there could be more waiting for them than they'd bargained for, but so far so good. No point in worrying over it. And even if things went screwy, _all_ of them were here. They were all each other's backup, Robins One through Three, plus the Bat himself, and Oracle providing comm support. If things _didn't_ go screwy, she might even have time to do her nails after providing survivor transport, while the boys mopped up Black Mask.

But the one thing she hadn't reconciled yet was the horrors that probably awaited them on the operating level, and the fact that some of the freaks that had ambushed her and Jay the week before would be jonesing for payback. It was apparent now that Black Mask was a complete fucking psycho, and she had no doubt that his hired muscle was just as bent in the head. The whole lot of them made the villains in Metropolis look to be within shouting distance of sane, even if her Dad's rogues' gallery was pretty far to the left on the spectrum of good and evil. Lex Luthor would throw a six-year-old alien hybrid into the sea, but he wouldn't cut the organs out of runaways for profit … she hoped. Honestly, if Lex was doing something like that, he'd be careful enough that they'd never find the bodies. Shuddering at the thought, Kala gripped Jay a little tighter than she needed to around another curve as they crossed beneath the Turnpike.

Truth be told, there was darkness even in the most unlikely places, and the kinds of atrocities she was likely to see weren't exclusive to Gotham. Sometimes it was just hidden deeper. Evil was everywhere, there was no escaping it, and to believe otherwise was to live a pretty, convenient lie. She had learned better.

But Kala also knew there was light everywhere she turned. Here, in Gotham, which wore its ugliness on the outside for the whole world to see, were people like Bruce and Dick and Jay and Tim. People who might bicker and bitch at each other, but who would come together and fight to save innocent lives. And back at Wayne Manor, once they'd rinsed off the grime and blood, there was camaraderie around the table and delight in the simple things, like Alfred's skill with pancakes.

Her deepest fear, beyond what awaited them in Black Mask's compound, was that one day she'd stop seeing that light. Yeah, part of coming to Gotham was that it'd been a convenient way to escape the imminent train wreck of her relationship with Sebast, but honestly, she could've trained anywhere. Something subconscious had known that she needed to confront the darkness she feared. Gotham's villains were more dangerous, more crazy, more plain _evil_ than anywhere else. If she could be a light in the darkness here, she could do it anywhere.

"K, you in there?" Jay asked then, righting the bike as they hit a straight stretch of road.

The sound of his voice was enough to bring her back. With a shiver, Kala shook herself out of her grim thoughts. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Got lost in my own head for a minute there," she said with a dark chuckle. "Seriously, the Bowery looks like Park Avenue by comparison sometimes. I'm just over-thinking things, I guess. "

"It's a hazard of the job," Jay replied. "Try to remember that Zen meditative focus thing that Bruce taught you, and you'll be fine."

A snicker escaped her at that. How had she just known? "Does he do that to everybody?"

"Oh yeah. He wouldn't know individualized training if it bit him on the ass."

This time, Kala let out a full laugh, the inside of her helmet starting to fog up a little with her breath. "Guess I got lucky, then," she shot back. But then the double meaning of what she'd said hit her. _Wow, classic double-entendre there. What a way to keep your mind on your work._ _Quit it, Kala. Now is not the time_ _._

But it was too late. A low chuckle came over the comm, Jay shivering with laughter beneath her arms. "Right…" he teased her.

The best way to mitigate blame was to foist it on someone else. It wasn't like he didn't deserve it, she though with a smirk. "Well, I know where _your_ brain is. I think I'm not the only one that needs to focus, Red," Kala hit him right back, emphasizing her point with a mock slap to his belly.

But as Jay laughed again, Kala turned her attention to the others; they were getting close now, just a few more blocks to Mask's buildings. That was when she realized Dick was calling her name over the comm, only to find empty air … because she and Jay were on a different channel.

"Dammit," she swore to herself, switching the comm. Oh, yeah, _this_ was going to reassure Dick that nothing was going on. Yep, certainly. "They're calling us. Red, go to channel two," she added, making sure not to leave him out of the lecture they were sure to get. Speaking into the comm, she started, "We're on, Wing. Sorry. Can you repeat?"

Dick made a sound that resembled a grumbled curse, but went on, "We're almost at our destination, Blur. You and I are falling out in two blocks to set up, while the others continue on to approach the building from the rear." Pausing a moment, he added, sounding slightly amused, "You two having a private conversation over there? Hope you're not too distracted to, oh, I dunno … take down a big bad?"

Jay tensed under her hands, and she smiled beneath her helmet. Best to just play it off. "Just going over the job ahead, Wing. Don't get all jealous; you still have the most obsession-worthy Bat-ass in town."

Chuckling into his own comm, Jay added, " _Some_ of us know how to keep transport professional, Mr. Oops-I-Gotta-Steam-Clean-the-Batmobile."

"Enough chatter," Oracle cut in. Kala felt Jay suppress a chuckle, and figured he'd just trolled two-for-one, considering just who Dick had probably been dirtying up the Batmobile with back then. She squeezed her knees against his thighs once to let him know she'd caught that as O continued, "Cameras aren't picking up any unusual movement around the target. Approach is clear."

Now was the moment when, if they were going to back off, Bruce would abort the mission. His intuition was honed by decades of this sort of thing; if he felt the slightest hint that something was out of whack, he'd call off the mission. Kala held her breath, waiting. This was her last chance to be distracted by anything, her last chance to notice the broad span of Jay's shoulders, her last chance to worry. After this, they'd either turn back, or she had to be all business. No quick quips, no double-entendres, no hormones.

"Let's go," Bruce said quietly over the comm, and that was it, they were on.

Every nerve in Kala's body tensed to the breaking point then, more wired than she'd ever been in her life, and she slipped off Jay's bike as soon as he stopped it, the train of Bat bikes all pulling up into a deep, dark shadow along one sidewalk. She was going in on the front line, right beside Dick, clearing the front entrance; if there were any surprises waiting for them, she'd likely be the first to see them coming. Her heart kicked into a higher gear, flooding her body with adrenaline, but she had the training to keep her breathing even and her mind focused. The tense alertness made her hyper-aware, not panicked, and as she hit that state, everything around her came into sharp focus: sights, sounds, smells, even the taste of the air.

She was ready.

But something tugged at the back of her brain, and she couldn't help feeling like she needed a little extra luck at the moment. Pulling off her helmet, she smiled wickedly, and leaned in to kiss the smoothly curved jawline of Jay's iconic red helmet as he dismounted the bike himself. "Go kick his ass, Red," she murmured, and then hurried to get into place.

…

As Kala disappeared from the alley, headed straight up to the adjacent rooftop with Dick not far behind, Jay stared after her, dumbfounded. What the fuck had just happened?

Shit, he didn't have time to work it over in his head. He'd just have to deal with it later. A quick slap of his helmet with one hand, and he hurried over to Tim, where his youngest brother was giving him a narrow-eyed look from behind his domino.

"Let's hit it," he said tersely, hopping on the back of Tim's bike and poking the kid in the ribs with two fingers. "We've got a bad guy to fuck over."

In front of him, Tim huffed out a laugh as he kicked his bike into gear and took them out of the shadows and around the block. His shoulders shivered with amusement, and as they rounded a corner to head the last few blocks to come at Mask's HQ from the other side, he finally said, "None of my business, Red, I know. Just don't screw her over. Her brother would probably find a reason to kill _me_ for it."

Jay just rolled his eyes. "Not you, too," he groaned. "I've gotten enough grief from B and Wing, already. Nobody's getting killed that don't deserve it, and Blur can hold her own."

Another small laugh, and Tim shot back, "Works for me. As long as none of us get caught up in it."

"Yeah, yeah. Now let's go take out our target."

Jay could practically hear the kid's grin as Tim pulled them into another deep shadow and parked his bike. "Read my mind, Hood. Let's go."

Putting everything personal on the back burner, Jay cracked his knuckles, and followed Tim up the nearest fire escape to hit the roof.

…

Using every scrap of shadow and every ounce of cover to make his way to his starting point unseen, Dick glanced across the pool of light pouring from the double doors of the main entrance and caught Kala's eye, where she was hidden in shadow on the other side. Now or never, no turning back. A shared nod, and they launched themselves at the doors.

Their kicks landed against the locked doors simultaneously, boot soles crashing into the lock plates, rather than smashing through the glass, and knocking them open as the metal locks tore through the wood. Shouts arose from inside as they tossed the flash-bangs, two grenades each for a more dramatic effect, and with a duck and cover so they wouldn't be caught in the blast, they waited. Three, two, one, and once the bangs had done their job, cries of agony replacing the guards' alarmed shouts, Dick and Kala headed into the lobby. Their objective was simple: draw the guards away from the other entrances, take out as many as possible, make Mask think they were going for a full-frontal assault. Easy peasy.

It was second nature for Dick to never move in a straight line; the habit of not presenting a clear trajectory had even crept into his daily life, and he often found himself weaving slightly, even on sidewalks. Now, in combat, he was everywhere and nowhere, leaping unpredictably to one side, then tumbling to the other. Four guards fell beneath his escrima sticks, never having a chance in their stunned shock, and a fifth, who fired at where he thought Dick was going to be, dropped like a sack of potatoes with one strike. A quick grin flashing across his face, Dick turned from him to find his partner mopping up her own contingent of hired muscle.

Kala wasn't quite as evasive yet, but her speed protected her in tight spaces like this. The Blur lived up to her name, putting down an equal number of guards in a flash, snatching their guns and flinging them outside, or smashing them against the wall hard enough to snap the stocks off and render them useless. No one even got a shot at her; they were all disarmed before they could. Then Kala set about knocking them out with precise strikes, her teeth showing in a predatory grin. She'd trained with sticks and a bō staff like Tim's, but in the end, hand-to-hand had become her specialty. Her strength was enough to account for lightly-armored men like these, and if the need were to arise, she carried a collapsible baton and throwing stars to augment her own weaponry.

Watching her drop another opponent, Dick had a moment to reflect that Kala was nothing like her brother, at least in a fight. Jason was bulletproof, and knew it, and made sure their opponents knew it, too. He moved like a tank, slow—compared to Kala, anyway—and straight and implacable, running right into gunfire and simply bending back the barrels of weapons or crushing them in his bare hands. Jason was also more hesitant about take-down strikes, extremely cautious with his strength. Once their foes had seen him squish a hardened steel pistol like jelly, they tended to surrender rather than risk getting knocked upside the head by him.

Kala, however, showed more finesse, and a wicked sense of humor, to boot; daze the enemy, confuse the ever-loving heck out of them, blow them a kiss before turning out their lights. She was quick and dirty, and it was clear that she enjoyed every minute of it. Heck, if Dick hadn't gotten the speculation out of the way first thing, he'd probably be inclined to carry a torch almost as bright as the one Jay seemed to be holding for her. And wasn't _that_ a weird thought?

But that thought was cut off as Kala finished off her last man and looked over to him, a small smile of satisfaction gracing her face beneath her domino. Ten guards down, and the room was clear.

Dick called it in with a quick, "Lobby's clear, we're headed in and up," and knew the other three would start moving in as soon as he did. No time to wax poetic about fighting styles and crushes now.

"Time to start drawing attention?" Kala said, arching a brow.

"It's what we both do best," Dick laughed with a wink, and with another three-count, they busted down the next door.


	32. Headed for a Breakdown

**Authors' Note:** NaNoWriMo is over, we made our 50k words even if we didn't finish the book, and now we're back to fanfic. So you get twice-weekly chapter updates. Does Tuesday and Saturday work for everyone?

Thank you all for reading, and especially thank you to the brave few who review. We really appreciate that. 3

* * *

"Sir, Nightwing and the Blur just arrived at the front entrance. They've disabled ten guards and are moving into the building." For such dire news, it was delivered calmly, the assistant's voice not wavering in the slightest.

"Nightwing and Blur. Hmm," Black Mask responded, his voice thoughtful. "Interesting. Hold off on the welcoming party a few minutes longer. I want them _all_ here for it."

"Yes, sir." With that, the man turned and left, and the crime lord leaned back in his chair, methodically puffing on a cigar. To anyone peering into his office, he might seem to be looking off into space, preoccupied with his own thoughts, but in reality, he was watching the reflections in the windows for any movement behind him, and out the windows themselves as well. It wouldn't be the first time the Bats had made an unorthodox entrance. Probably wouldn't be the last, either, considering their tenacity. The lot of them just didn't seem to learn.

Tonight, however, they _would_ learn better. The special gift sitting on his desk, waiting for the first Bat to arrive, would see to that. It didn't really matter which one; all except the Blur would know its significance, and even she might know, if they'd told her the harrowing tale. Perhaps the Bat himself had told his wild-eyed dreamers just what happened to those who failed, or maybe his followers whispered it to each other like children telling scary stories around a campfire, a tale so terrifying that it could only be shared in the shadows.

And that was only the beginning. Beneath the desk, a Mac-10 waited in a spring clip, ready to draw and fire at the first sign of trouble. Or in this case, not so much trouble as vengeance.

With silent glee dancing along his nerves in anticipation of the next few minutes, Black Mask's smile was cadaverous. But then, what else could it be?

…

As soon as Dick's voice came over the comm, Jay grinned beneath his helmet and nodded at Tim, who returned the gesture. Time to roll.

Holding up a hand, he counted down with three fingers, and on zero, he and Tim broke cover from behind a rooftop AC unit, its noise concealing their movements easily. A quick squeeze of the trigger on his tranq gun, and he fired at the two guards on Black Mask's roof, a whole building away.

The two men dropped like puppets with their strings cut. Too damn easy.

Then it was just a quick running vault to reach Mask's rooftop, both of them firing off mini-EMP charges to knock out the surveillance cameras as they went, careful to set them off with enough of a gap to avoid being caught in the pulse. As it was, all their equipment was shielded, but it paid to be cautious, all the same.

Jay rolled as he hit the roof, Tim landing in a crouch beside him as he came up to a defensive stance, and with a quick once-over, they checked for remaining issues.

Nothing left but the little charge on the stairwell access door, and that was disabled.

A smirk to himself, and he waved Tim toward the elevator access door with two fingers. _You first, I'll follow._

It'd be all too easy to let the kid catch the brunt of any traps they discovered on the way down, but that wasn't Jay's plan at all. This way, if anyone came in behind them, he could claim self-defense if he had to blow them away. Dammit, he wanted to kill these fuckers. Let the family think what they wanted of him – let Kala think whatever _she_ wanted – anyone he took out tonight would be no great loss.

Thankfully, Tim seemed to be on the same page as he was, though probably for different reasons—it'd stand to reason that Tim wanted to be the one to catch Mask and tear him a new one, and Jay wouldn't blame him one bit—and he smacked a strip of chemical explosive on the door's lock, both of them ducking as the reaction burned white hot, melting the locking mechanism. A swift kick once the sparks died down, and the door popped open, slamming inward.

…

There was a rhythm to fighting like this, and Kala had discovered that she exulted in it. She and Dick were staying near the front, working back and forth to draw out each new wave of guards and put them down. Her method? Race ahead, snatch someone's gun and knock them out, then slip away again at what felt like a ridiculously slow speed, drawing the rest after her. Then right around a corner and straight into Dick's waiting escrima sticks, whereupon she'd break cover and take a few herself. It was like pulling the lion's whiskers, a heady blend of the terrifying and the exhilarating.

They'd cleared out all the guards from the front, and the reports over the comm told her that the boys were descending the elevator shaft and Bruce was in at the loading dock. Kala grinned to imagine Jay and Tim doing some actual teamwork during the tricky descent, and Bruce down in the loading dock, striking from the shadows like the fist of justice he so often was. "Should we move in?" she asked Dick.

He glanced around, listening to his own comm, and then nodded. They made a quick run in the general direction of the operating floor, stopping only when they encountered more resistance. These guards were better armed and better prepared, and Kala made sure to add a condescending slap across the face of their leader before running away.

Strangely, they didn't chase her. She pulled up at Dick's new location, frowning. Something wasn't quite right. The men should've hunted her down, especially after she'd taunted their boss. Instead, her hearing told her they were sitting tight … waiting for her to come back? That didn't make any sense…

Certain sounds were engraved on Kala's memory, and her hearing was as sensitive to them as a shark was to blood in the water. One of the most critical of those sounds was the series of metallic noises made by a gun as it was being lifted, aimed, and fired. She heard a safety clicking off, _behind them_ , and reacted in a smooth rush that had nothing to do with conscious thought and everything to do with diligent training.

The guards who'd come in behind their position had already pulled the triggers on their weapons, the bullets streaking toward her and Dick in advance of the sound of the gunshots. That was okay, though, because Kala was faster than sound, too. Faster than sight, she met the bullets coming their way and literally slapped them out of the air, trying to aim them into the walls rather than the concrete floor to avoid ricochets.

Kala rounded on them again, ripping their guns out of their hands to their cries of pain , sweeping through their firing line. Submachine guns, nasty little killing tools. Two had been smashed before she realized the men were falling to the ground, clutching their heads. She took care of the rest and finally stopped, her heart pounding, but she could hear more troops arriving through the front door.

"Reinforcements are coming in the front," she said into the comm, and then turned to see that Dick was also crouched over, his hands pressed against his ears. What the hell? Did one of them glance him in the head? Some kind of sonic device that she somehow couldn't hear? Anything was possible in Gotham, she had learned.

Heart wedged in her esophagus, Kala rushed to his side, panicked, ready to evac him if she had to. But Dick just gave her a chagrined smile. "Warn a guy before you break out the sonic boom, okay?"

That explained why the guards had suddenly fallen; they'd been caught in the pressure wave she created, much like a concussion grenade. "Oh. Oops. I didn't even think of that—I don't hear it when I break the sound barrier." Kala winced, giving Dick a hand up. Really, that could be something useful to re-purpose in a fight, but she could hear more movement near their position. _Mind in the game. You can plot more moves for world domination later._ "Dammit. No time for banter. More trouble coming our way, Wing."

"It's a trap," he said darkly. At the same moment, Tim reported someone above the elevator shaft cutting their lines, and Bruce reported a truck at the loading dock opening its rear door to reveal a dozen or more fighters lying in wait.

Kala swore under her breath. This far in and with the entire team separated, this was the last thing she wanted to hear. "Message received. The plan is toast," Kala muttered, tapping her comm. "B, do we abort?"

"Negative," he answered, the earpiece bringing her a wet crunch as he broke someone's nose. "No way out, now. Regroup on the operating floor."

"On our way," Kala said, ignoring the frost that was creeping over her heart. Somehow Mask knew they were coming, and he'd laid a trap for them. Trapped between groups of guards, faced with the task of fighting their way to the operating floor. Of course Sionis did; it would be too busy to have things go according to plan. She resisted the urge to scream in frustration. But at least the high-strung irritation was keeping the panic-rat in her gut at bay.

"Best position is going to be the one those other guards are in," Dick said, jerking his chin in the direction of the guards entrenched in front of them, the ones Kala had tried to taunt into chasing her a moment ago. "Hopefully they'll think we're trying to get out, not further in."

"So let's go," Kala said, steeling herself for this. _So much for worrying about being useless. This is gonna be the toughest yet._

…

Batman turned from the spitting submachine guns and moved further into the building. He chose unexpected routes, moving from shadow to shadow, gliding noiselessly from the dark to strike and vanish again. They thought they were hunting him, but he was drawing them into ambush; once he and his soldiers reached the operating floor, they could make a stand, back to back, and cut down their opposition. The men between him and his goal were little more than poorly-trained thugs, anyway, and he scoffed at them as he battered them aside.

The ones behind, now … they were well-armed and reasonably well-trained. Mask had spent a lot of money or favors to bring them here. Part of him, ever logical, pondered what that meant in the larger scheme of things. Was Mask profiting so much that he could afford this excess? Or had they pressured him so much that he'd turned desperate, spending his hoard on this massive ambush in hopes of being rid of the Bats once and for all?

Either way, they would take a huge chunk out of his operation tonight. Failure did not figure into Batman's calculations; failure was never an option, for him or for his loyal soldiers. They were trained to a pinnacle of physical and mental perfection, and they worked seamlessly as a team. They _would_ win. He could accept no other outcome.

That implacability made him a fearsome foe, and he knew it. He couldn't be intimidated, and his certainty lent iron strength to each blow, which soon frightened his enemies. All they could see of him was his mouth set in a grim line beneath his cowl, as Batman waded to the rendezvous point, constantly monitoring the comm line for more news.

…

Gunfire in the enclosed elevator shaft was _loud_ , and Tim muttered about it as he braced his feet against one wall and his shoulders against the other, carefully letting himself down. Their lines had been cut some time ago, and of course these shafts didn't have the safety ladders required by the building code. Still, they were almost to the level they needed to reach.

A bit above him, Jay was having an easier time of it thanks to his longer legs and broader shoulders. He paused every few seconds to return fire on the thugs at the top of the shaft; Tim didn't know if he was hitting them, or just laying cover fire. Jay's bloodthirstiness was something they could deal with later, when his back and thighs and calves weren't shrieking at him.

"We're here," he said curtly, and tossed a small explosive charge at the closed doors just below him. The blast came ten seconds later, directed outward, and all Tim felt of it was a rush of warm air. He decided against subtlety and fired his backup grappling gun into the room at an upward angle to catch the ceiling. Yanking once to be sure it was secure, he kicked free of the shaft and swung into Black Mask's office.

Right into the line of fire. Bullets ripped through the space he'd occupied seconds ago. Immediate evasive maneuvers were standard entry protocol, though, and he tumbled across the floor without taking a hit. Tim's eyes took in the room at a glance, noting Mask's position, the other exits, the lack of cover.

The power drill lying atop the desk.

The old, rust-colored stains on it.

Blood stains. Steph's blood, from when this sick bastard had chained her up and taken a drill – _that_ drill – to her in search of information about the Bats.

Someone had turned on a blowtorch in Tim's chest. He had always been the most logical of the Robins, the coolest-headed of the bunch, but right now he'd completely lost his dispassionate demeanor. Wrath scalded his heart and fought its way up his throat, trying to ignite his brain. He finished his tumble and fetched up under a heavy conference table, knocking it over to provide some shielding against Mask's bullets.

Jay was a few seconds behind him, swooping in while Mask was distracted. He arrived with guns blazing, taking cover behind a row of bookshelves and firing around the corner. Tim took advantage of the diversion to toss a knockout gas grenade toward Black Mask. What he wouldn't have given at that moment for something a little harsher…

Sionis heard the hissing sound before the gas could take effect and fled through a hidden exit in the wall behind him. The concealed door was swinging shut, and neither of them had seen exactly how he'd opened it. Tim knew they had to get there before it closed completely so they could follow. He launched himself across the room in a headlong desperate effort to follow—

—that came up short when Jay grabbed him by the uniform and swung him around. "It's gotta be trapped!" he yelled directly into Tim's face, making sure the words penetrated the boiling rage.

He was right, of course he was right, but they were still going to _get_ Mask. Tonight. Now. Tim pulled back from him, only then hearing the tramp of feet in the hallway as reinforcements ran up. And their own knockout gas was rising in a cloud around them; for a short time they could control their breathing and resist the effects, but this was _not_ a place they wanted to linger.

Jay tossed his own explosive roughly where the hidden door was, and both of them vaulted Mask's desk for cover. The blast dispersed the knockout gas and opened a secret passage, one not on the building plans and undoubtedly filled with all sorts of traps. "By the book, Baby Bird," Jay rumbled, and they took off down the passage, keeping a wary eye to the front for potential hazards, and an even warier ear behind them for pursuit.

…

The initial fun of this whole endeavor had stopped a while back, and Kala found herself locked into battle-mode. It had been years since she had been in this sort of situation and she made herself focus moment-to-moment. Trapped between two sets of enemies now, she could feel in her bones that she and Dick were fighting their way toward a nightmare. But there was no space left in her mind for terror. Everything was swallowed up in hyper-awareness of their surroundings, even the tiniest sound and movements registering with declamatory force.

One of the men swept a baton through the air in a direct trajectory for Kala's throat. Another had drawn his gun and was firing. Another, on the other side of Dick, was falling in slow-motion, his eyes glazed. And behind him another was stepping in with a knife in his hand.

Kala's mind was blank except for that mental picture and her place in it. She had no time to think; super-speed required her to operate on instinct, acting and reacting faster than her conscious mind could comprehend. And luckily for her, for all them, bad guys included, she'd been trained well enough that she didn't _need_ her conscious mind.

She ducked the baton, letting it sweep through empty air, and batted the bullet sideways as it emerged from the barrel of the gun. A stray thought flickered across the back of her mind; stupid of the man to have fired in such close quarters. It didn't break her focus, though, and as she rose up again she caught the baton and forced it further along its course, smacking the gun-wielder in the jaw and watching him do a half-somersault backward. Kala spun on one toe, raising her other knee, and when she was facing the baton-wielder again she unleashed a spinning kick to the center of his chest while he was still gaping at the man he'd struck.

There was still time for the one with the knife; there was always time, for her, but she didn't need it. Dick had laid him out and was moving to take another, his escrima sticks sweeping through the air like deadly calligraphy. He wove between his opponents with a dancer's grace, destruction in his wake. Beyond him, she saw fresh reinforcements coming, but they were pouring through a set of double doors that revealed a bright white room beyond. A sterile operating room, maybe? Could they be almost there already?

A knife cut the air too close for comfort, Kala whipping around to dispatch the wielder. She and Dick were both utterly absorbed in dealing with the threats coming their way, and they were winning. Against incredible odds, against well-trained and well-armed foes, the two of them were making progress and leaving a trail of groaning or unconscious foes in their wake. A distant part of her wondered if this was how a falcon felt, soaring far above the world, seeing everything and then diving at incredible speed to take down its prey.

All of a sudden, there were no more enemies left. Wild exhilaration roared through Kala then, setting every nerve sizzling. In her still mostly-empty mind a word, heard long ago and mostly forgotten, surfaced then. _Funktionslust_ , a German word that meant something like 'the joy of doing what one does best'. She'd heard it applied to her mother on a story, and she'd felt it onstage, her voice a live current arcing between her and the crowd. For the first time she felt it here, felt at home in the costume and mask, and knew that she'd been born to do this as much as she was born to sing.

There was no time for rejoicing a bright spot in this madness, though. "We've got to secure the operating theater for the others," Dick said, and she nodded. Steeling herself against whatever might lie beyond, trying to savor that hard-won elation as long as she could, Kala headed for the doors to the operating theater, keeping pace with Dick.

The sight that met her eyes was far beyond her capacity to comprehend.

…

"We've got him surrounded," one of Mask's lieutenants said to the men following him. He didn't like the look of them; too many of them were nearly wall-eyed with terror, and none were eager to close in on the corridor where they'd trapped the Bat. "Hey. _Hey_. What the hell is this? You cowards now? You're gonna hang back pissing yourselves just because of _one guy_? When the fuck'd my crew disappear and get replaced by a bunch of pussies?"

"He's the goddamn Bat," spat one of them, anger and fear fighting for supremacy in his voice.

The lieutenant scoffed. "Fuck that. He's just a man. He's got good gear, but in the end he's just a man in a fuckin' pointy-eared hat and some tights."

"He can dodge bullets," someone muttered.

"He can move from one shadow to another," somebody else said.

"He can _fly_ ," came a fearful whisper, and that pushed the lieutenant's temper into the red zone.

"Bullshit, all of it's bullshit," he snapped. "He's just another fucked-up freak in a mask. They're like roaches in Gotham, you can't put a foot down without steppin' on one. I don't wanna hear any more of this fuckin' god of the night shit, you hear me? He's a man, and he'll die like any man if you put enough holes in him."

On those words he took a menacing step toward his crew, and for a second he thought he'd gotten through to them. Then he felt a slight tug at his ankle, and looked down. "Aw, fuck," he groaned, a mere instant before the tripwire he'd stepped into swept him off his feet and into a gap in the acoustic tile.

His bellow of outrage was followed by a scream of fear and a loud, solid, _thump_. The men below cringed, staring upward. "He's in the ceiling," one of them whispered. Afraid and indecisive, they couldn't figure out if they should go forward or backward or maybe try getting up into the space between the floors of the building. Maybe the Batman would be hampered by the close conditions.

While they huddled leaderless and terrified, a canister hit the floor with a metallic _clink_ , rolling into the midst of them. Before they could comprehend its purpose, it began to dispense thick clouds of smoke, which not only blinded the men but contained a soporific.

When Batman dropped to the floor again, he walked calmly out of the trap that had been laid for him, pausing only to zip-tie the slumbering men together.

…

Jay and Tim hunted Mask through a labyrinth of secret passages between the walls of the building, most of them spaces that didn't even exist on the floor plans. Then again, it was easy to build a false wall or two, if you didn't mind trying to walk through a tunnel barely twenty-inches wide.

Easier for Tim than Jay, which was the only reason he was letting Baby Bird take point. He'd calmed down enough to be on guard, finding and disarming the traps Mask left behind. Jay could only wait and chafe, trying to remind himself that he had _plenty_ of space to breathe, the walls weren't actually pressing against his chest.

Ahead, Tim made a low noise of disgust, and a second later Jay's boot came down on something splintery-gritty. He glanced down and grinned. "Rat skeleton. Nice. Just what every discriminating criminal needs to decorate their secret lair."

Tim almost laughed at that. They'd come to a door that _looked_ safe, but they both knew better. A quick once-over with one of their scanners revealed the door was steel, with a powerful electric charge running through it. Tim countered with a small explosive charge that severed the connection and busted down the door.

They were hot on the trail then, and knew it. Their comms were alive with updates: Kala and Dick were having a rough time of it but had almost reached the rendezvous point; Bruce was carving his way through heavy resistance with his signature stealth; GCPD was on its way, too, but the fight would be mostly over before the cops could even get inside. Jay grinned beneath his helmet at the thought.

Finally, human opposition instead of interminable traps! Two goons met them as they burst out of the corridor into a dim, dusty room. Tim laid the first one out with his bō while Jay put a bullet through the shoulder of the second. Other than a cold glance, Tim didn't even remark on the carnage. Then again, the second guy _had_ been raising his own gun to aim at Tim.

Close now, almost close enough to smell their quarry, and when they heard Mask's voice up ahead both of them sped up, dashing through disused hallways. Tim leaped and kicked off a wall so he entered the room from an unexpected angle, somersaulting as he went.

Finally, Black Mask and a handful of his crew, caught in a room with no obvious exits except the one behind them. Jay grinned as he and Tim waded into the fight.

…

The minute they came in the door, the dread that had been curling in Kala's belly rose into her throat. They had made it to their destination. Her keen senses brought her the sharp tang of antiseptic, and beneath it an earthier scent: blood. In a few places, just a few, the clean white floor was marked with splashes of red, so dark they seemed to burn in her sight. The room was too bright, making it impossible to ignore the contrast between its blank sterility and the evil being perpetrated here. She had known what they would find, but cold hard statistics were different than reality. Most especially here in Gotham.

Six hospital gurneys, with six bodies on them, just left there husked like seed-hulls. Most barely more than children. How vile it was to know that anyone could have the training and skill to save lives, and could use it for _this_. A tidal wave of revulsion and rage roared through her, eyes stinging two-fold. Kala gritted her teeth to ground herself, her chest tight, the urge to flip her protective lenses out of the way and burn a swath through Mask's henchmen harder to hold back than it had been all summer. _Animals. Worse than animals. How can we even allow someone who does something like this to live?_

Her own mind answered her, cold and clear as crystal. _Because this isn't our way. This is not_ _ **your**_ _way. It's Dru-Zod's. And you are not that girl anymore. There are other ways to deal with their kind._

It was only with supreme effect that she refocused her mind. It was more important to get any potential survivors out. There might be a few she could still help. With a shake of her shoulders Kala gave a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and shifted her attention to listening for heartbeats.

The room had been largely abandoned, its guards having come out to deal with Dick and Kala on their way in, and the surgeons having fled. That was just as well. Dick was already moving among them, checking for any signs of life; only the tension in the line of his shoulders betrayed his own outrage. She took the other side of the room, trying not to look too closely at the corpses she passed. _They are going to pay for this. They_ _ **will**_ _._

"Don't look," Dick warned suddenly, and of course Kala turned toward him, seeing instantly what he had wanted her to pass by. Unlike the rest of the bodies, this one was strapped to the gurney; the floor around it was splashed and spattered with far more blood than surgery should've indicated. And the man's mouth was open, his lips drawn back, blood streaked down his face from where one eye had been taken…

Kala felt her gorge rising, but choked it back. Conscious, this man had been awake and aware while they did it to him, his eye gone, his abdomen open, they had to have taken his heart last, but she could too easily imagine Black Mask holding the beating organ up before the man's remaining eye just before severing the vessels.

"Don't," Dick said softly, at her side. "We have to think of the living."

"I'd bet money that was Jay's informant," Kala whispered, fixing her gaze on his blue eyes. She knew her anger and disgust were obvious, but she couldn't throttle it back enough to be as calm as the boys. "Now we know how they knew to expect us, right?"

Dick nodded solemnly. "Yeah, now we know. Come on, there might be one or two still alive…"

Of course. She closed her eyes to the horror around her, letting her hearing do the work. Cooling corpses were silent, except for a few odd muscle contractions here and there, and anyone alive would have at least a heartbeat. The rhythm of life in this room of death…

 _There._

One heartbeat, thready, but there if only just.

Desperate hope flared in her. _One_. They might just be able to save one. Kala steadied herself, and this time she moved toward the sound with total focus, not letting anything else distract her. Brutally pushing aside everything else—the silent death-scream of their informant, the bodies surrounding them, the rage at Mask and all his minions—for the sake of that one survivor, Kala tuned in as finely as she could. _Where are you? God, where are you?_

She used a touch of her small allowance of x-ray vision, scanning the room. _Help me find you. Please._ Kala turned in a slow circle, locked on a target, then tore across the room. A gurney on the far end of the room. What she saw broke her heart.

 _Jesus, he's just a kid,_ she thought despairingly. Twelve or thirteen, a wiry little street rat, his hands grimy and his limbs too thin. He was unconscious, breathing shallowly, and a quick glance told her he'd already been operated on. They hadn't taken his heart, lungs, or eyes, not yet, but the abdominal wound and the faint, rapid pulse told her that important organs had been removed. Horror flooded her, sickened. Jesus, what kind of monster does this to a kid? "We have one! Wing, we've got a breather!" Kala called to her partner, turning to Dick with stricken eyes. "But he's not good; they've been at him and he's fading fast. We've got to get him treatment."

Ambulances were already on the way, both of them had heard Oracle report it over the comm, but this kid might not have that much time. His skin was too pale. "Take him," Dick said, and a part of Kala wanted to protest, wanted to claim she had no business doing this. The child was too fragile for her to chance it.

The rest of her, her mother's indefatigable determination and her father's unswerving devotion to duty, had her disconnecting the IV lines that led into the kid's neck and hefting him into her arms. He felt as if he weighed much less than he should, even with his form completely slack. She could remember her little sister at this age all too well. _Stay with me, sweetheart. Just hold on a little longer for me. Just a little longer._ Making herself focus, Kala took a deep breath. "Call it in for me. I'll be back," she told Dick, and took off.

By the time she was in the hallway, the boy cradled gently in her arms, she'd hit what she privately thought of as Blur-speed; the velocity at which she moved faster than the average human eye could follow. Flying above the heads of any guards, she was too fast for them to target, and could move unimpeded.

Once outside, Kala shielded the boy from the wind as best she could, and kicked her speed up a notch. His pulse was frighteningly weak to be flying this fast, but she needed to get him help as quickly as she could. Her heart ached that any kid this young should know horrors like these. It just wasn't right. He would make it; she would be sure of that. She'd see it made right. It was too easy up close to see how thin he was, and she could feel the coolness of his skin even in the heat of the summer night. It wasn't right that anyone could do this; he was too young to know this kind of pain and fear.

Jay's tale from the other night came back to her all too clear, how he'd kept himself in one piece before Bruce had come along. How he hadn't been the only kid out there trying anything to survive. Kala glanced at the unconscious child's face. There was no way of knowing just how much he had been through before Mask had gotten his claws into him. Was he a runaway, hiding on the streets? Was he an orphan? What had his life been before he had ended up like this, the only potential survivor of that blood-spattered operating room? A million scenarios came to mind and she was finding it harder and harder to stay distanced and professional when that hummingbird heartbeat fluttered in her ears.

She was far too much her father's daughter to keep silent. He might not be able to hear her, but she needed to have the chance to maybe calm him somehow. Her cheek against his hair, Kala whispered, "It's over. I promise it's over. I'm taking you someplace safe, to a hospital. Those men will never hurt you again. I'll make sure of it. He'll pay for what he's done."

There was no indication that he had heard her. She hadn't expected it, though it made her eyes burn and her vision slightly blur. She might've been whistling in the dark, trying to soothe herself, but maybe he would hear her. Hear her and hold on to life. Giving him all the shelter and safety of her own bio-field as she held him closer, Kala broke through the sound barrier effortlessly, soaring high above the city to keep from rattling windows any more than necessary. Gotham General's trauma center was clear across town, but distance didn't really matter at super-speed.

The emergency room doors were already opening for paramedics walking out, and Kala zoomed down to land right in front of them. "This boy was found at a black-market organ-harvesting operation," she told them, using the commanding voice she kept in reserve for moments like this. "Save him and prepare for others. GCPD is already en route to the site, and I may return."

With that she took off fast enough that she seemed to disappear. The Bats needed her.

…

When Batman finally arrived at the operating theater, frost crept over his heart at the realization that Blur wasn't there with Nightwing. If she'd been injured, if he'd allowed Superman's daughter to get hurt on his watch … but who better to bring to a takedown like this, who better to have on their side when everything went to hell? Who could be better than someone with super-powers and Bat-training? Even if she _was_ so painfully young—a year or two older than Robin, he couldn't remember now, but there was something in her eyes that said she still held a child's belief that everything would be all right.

Then again, her father was Superman. Perhaps she was justified in believing that Daddy could fix anything. But Superman had promised not to hover over Gotham like the anxious dad he was, and if she was hurt he might not even know…

All that passed through his mind in an instant, as Nightwing turned to see him and said shortly, "One survivor evac'd. There's a locked room off to the side where I found a dozen more, but they're untouched, just tranquilized. Meanwhile, we've got company coming, B."

Of course. Blur had used her flight and speed to evacuate one of the helpless victims. Batman didn't look at the cold corpses around him; later, he would see justice done, each of them identified and laid to rest with dignity. Now, it was the living he concerned himself with. Mask's henchmen were on their way here, and they would be cautious.

As usual, he didn't respond to Nightwing; the message had been received, and they both knew what to do next. Conversation was unnecessary. And Nightwing, thankfully, knew him well enough not to mistake his reticence for reprimand. Instead they both headed for the only reasonably-defensible position in the entire room, taking shelter between stacks of insulated shipping crates and a huge walk-in freezer. From there they could see both doors leading in, and only someone standing directly in front of them could fire at them. Best of all, it would draw fire away from the other survivors

Setting himself with his usual grim determination, Batman waited for the inevitable onslaught. Beside him, Nightwing chuckled softly. "Lovely night for a lopsided war, isn't it?" he joked.

Little though Batman would admit it, he was glad of Dick's presence at his side.

…

At first, the room was chaos, Mask's men descending on Jay and Tim like flies at a buffet, but that didn't last for long, as Tim's bō slashed out, cutting several men down with one swipe, a turn, a twist, and a jab, and Jay took a few down with his tranq gun in one hand and his .22 in the other—nothing fatal, of course, not that he didn't want to put them all down—all the while the two of them dodging incoming gunfire and sloppy punches. Half the room was cleared in just a few moments, unconscious henchmen littering the floor, and Jay glanced up from his latest dropped goon to find Mask hanging back, practically cornered, that sickening skeletal leer firmly affixed as he cackled, his voice hollow, arrogant.

"You're still outnumbered, kiddies," Mask gloated over the sounds of the melee. "Might as well pack it in."

Jay growled, barely keeping himself from leaping over the head of his next attacker to go straight for Mask, but after a solid punch and an elbow to the solar plexus left his opponent on the floor, he turned his gaze up to find the situation very, very changed.

"Surprise!" Mask called out, taking aim at the whole lot of them with a bazooka. A fucking bazooka, in close quarters!

"R, duck!" Jay shouted, and he and Tim managed to hit the floor just as the explosive _whoosh_ of the bazooka firing filled the room, brilliant orange and yellow lighting up the space like daylight, heat searing their backs as screams followed the nearly deafening clap of thunder.

Jesus fuck, Mask had just fired on his own people! _That sick fuck!_ And now—

From his place on the floor, Jay registered that the room had caught fire, more heat filling the air and sucking out all the oxygen, and he lifted his head to snarl, "You stupid asshole! There's no way outta here!"

Mask's heartless laugh met them over the screams of those that were still alive. "So sure of yourself, Hood?" And with that, a panel in the opposite wall slid open and Mask disappeared into the space beyond.

From beside him, Tim let loose a bellow of rage that Jay wouldn't have thought the kid capable of, rising to a crouch to avoid the flames and smoke as he charged after Mask. "No!" Tim shouted, practically throwing himself headlong after Mask.

Jay was on his heels immediately, not about to let that fucker get away again, either, and he nearly stumbled over Tim as the kid managed to catch Mask around the legs before the panel could slide shut again.

"I said _'no'!"_ Tim bellowed again, dragging a quite shocked Black Mask down inside the space beyond the panel.

Getting his own feet under him, Jay came in for the assist, planting a knee across Mask's chest. "You're done, asshole!" he spat for good measure, lamenting the fact that his helmet was in the way of him actually spitting on the fucker's skeletal face.

"Did you actually think you could taunt us with that drill?" Tim went on, slamming a fist down into Mask's gut. "You thought you were gonna get away with nearly fucking killing her?" Another punch. "And all these people?" And again. "What kind of sick bastard are you?"

For a moment, Jay was seriously impressed. Who'd have thought Baby Bird had such a vindictive streak in him? The sight of him in his vengeful glory made pride swell in Jay's chest. At least, until Tim pulled a fast one, and Jay realized his own .22 was in Tim's hands, the muzzle stuck right in Mask's face. How the fuck had the kid done that?

But the shock wore off damn quick, as Jay realized Tim meant business, his finger already tightening on the trigger.

"Wait!" he shouted, barely managing to knock the gun aside before a bullet could tear its way through Mask's head. "You're not a killer, Baby Bird," he said forcefully. "That's _my_ gig."

Tim turned a furious gaze on him, the whites of his lenses looking like twin suns of retribution, justice coming to collect. "This bastard deserves to die, Jay," he hissed, his lips twisting with rage. "You know it damn well."

A quick grab and twist while Tim was distracted, and Jay had the gun back. "Of course he does. But there's only room for one murderous psychopath in this family. And we owe it to Spoiler to see this freak hanged on his own rope."

From beneath them, Mask started laughing again. "You boys are so cute," he said with a mock sweetness. "Two little lovebirds that can't decide whether to kill me or not. Really, kids, you should know better." And lifting a hand, he waved what looked like a small detonator at them, his thumb descending on the button.

Jay only had a half-second to realize that Mask meant to blow the whole building, and everything and everyone in it, his own people, himself, and every Bat on the premises. "Oh, fuck, no!" he shouted, exasperated beyond belief. A strike to Mask's wrist, and the detonator fell to the floor, harmless. "I wish you'd just fucking shut up," he added, and with a swift move, he lifted his gun and pulled the trigger, consequences be damned.

Only, there was no cracking explosion of a gunshot, no splatter of blood or ick or whatever was hiding behind that mask. Just a tranq dart sticking out of Mask's neck.

"Son of a bitch," Jay muttered, both relieved and perturbed.

As Mask went limp beneath them, finally out and silent, Jay slumped to the side, catching Tim's hard gaze. "What?" he barked.

"You were gonna shoot him," Tim said, accusation and wry humor in the statement.

Honestly, Jay couldn't tell himself. He wasn't the kind to forget which gun was in his hand – his thought process had only been _draw and fire_ , not an inkling of whether to pull the tranq or the regular bullets. "Maybe."

At that, Tim shook his head, and turned back to the room behind them. "We need to get out of here before the whole place goes up."

That was enough to get Jay's full attention, and he realized the smoke from the fire was pouring into the small space, that … that Jay realized as he looked up and around was a tiny elevator, just big enough for a few people, squeezed in tightly.

"Hidden elevator," he said, pointing up to a panel on the wall with buttons for each floor. "Son of a bitch," he repeated.

Rising as he followed Jay's gaze, Tim pressed a button that hopefully would take them to the operating floor. The tiny door slid shut, blocking out the remaining screams and the crackle of flames, and the car began to rise.

Jay finished getting his wits about him, and knelt again to zip-tie Mask, extra tight, as Timmy called into his comm, "B, Mask is down and detained. There's a fire on the fourth floor, and the whole place is rigged to blow, so be on the lookout. We're on our way up to you, ready to evac. Hidden elevator in the northwest quadrant."

Bruce's voice came back over the comm, hoarse and gritty from a long fight, "Understood. We have survivors safely quarantined from the main fight. Let's get this over with."

…

Kala kicked her speed up a notch on her way back into the building. There was no reason _not_ to use her sonic-boom shock-wave on as many enemies as she could. The windows rattled, the walls shook, and men hit the ground clutching their heads as she tore through the corridors back to the operating theater. From the comm in her left ear, she heard Tim telling Bruce that the place was rigged to blow. Her right ear picked up the sound of gunfire ahead.

The men in her path were reinforcements to the fight ahead, and Kala made quick work of them with knife-hand strikes to nerve clusters and swift clipping kicks at joints. That slowed her progress, but at least she'd have a clear field behind her to use as an exit route. Up ahead, she could hear the rhythm of the fight, Bruce and Dick in seamless harmony, a staccato beat of fists and sticks.

Slowing down so as not to swamp the boys with a sonic boom, Kala landed, diving into the fray. All the men she'd fought on the way in the first time were just stage-dressing. _These_ were the real enemies, the jaws of a trap designed to crush the Bats. The memory of the child she'd found fueled her determination. _Oh, like hell,_ Kala thought with a savage grin, spinning to kick one man in the temple even as she grabbed another in a joint-lock and broke the elbow of his gun-hand.

Every instant was a separate photograph, a split second carved out of time and flashed across her strained synapses. Foes on every side of her, knives seeking her flesh, blunt weapons smashing at her, and Kala danced through it all, adding her own melody to the fight.

As she worked her way into the room, making progress toward Dick, she heard a loud _thump_ overhead. Kala automatically dodged, which took her into the path of a thug swinging some kind of pipe at her, and she started to bend at the waist, planning to flow with the motion, pass under the swing, and come up to disable the man while he was off-balance. Well, it wasn't _planning_ , precisely, just an automatic reaction to a particular threat.

Only it didn't happen that way. As Kala ducked, the thug's arm jerked, and he dropped the weapon. A half-second later Kala heard the sharp crack of a small-caliber gun, and then the man was clutching his arm and howling. She put him down and out with a kick and a chop, then turned to see what idiot was _shooting_ in a fray this dense.

 _Of course_. Kala scowled at Jay to let him know his assistance was unnecessary, but there was no time to chew him out. He and Tim had dropped from the ceiling to land nearby, and now all three of them formed a defensive triangle, guarding each other's flanks. The goons they were fighting began to thin out; many were unconscious, but some were fleeing. The sound of sirens in the distance probably contributed to that.

Now the Bats had to spread out to keep engaging targets. Kala, Jay, and Tim were almost to the spot where Dick was switching between opponents like a pinball in an arcade game, dancing from one to the other and completely unpredictable.

A few minutes of intense fighting had weeded out quite a few enemies, and the ones that were left decided it was a good time to start using guns again. Kala snapped, "I'm on it," and dove after the bullets. While she devoted herself to deflecting the shots, the boys took on the shooters.

"Enough playing, kids," someone growled, and Kala turned to see a burly man lifting a shotgun. _Oh, shit! I can't deflect buckshot, there's too many pellets, how the hell…?_

But while her mind was spinning, and all of them were scattering to make less obvious targets of themselves, someone else was planning. The guy with the gun only had time to realize that the three ranged against him were no longer looking at _him_ before he tried to turn and defend himself. Before the gun could swing completely around, a black shadow detached from atop the stack of crates and swooped down on him. He yelped in sudden terror as every ounce of Batman landed on him, boots first.

"Showoff," Kala couldn't help but mutter and cast a smirk in Jay's direction. Use humor to deflect; it worked for all the Bats. She'd think of this latest close call, and all that had happened since they'd arrived, later. When she could afford to.

…

Jay only chuckled; he didn't have time for more than that. These kinds of fights were his favorite; bad odds just meant a target-rich environment. And with practically the whole family together? They were damn near unstoppable. Besides, Dick couldn't smother him and Timmy couldn't snark at him in the midst of a fight this thick.

And then there was Kala. She was unscathed and unafraid, meeting her share of opponents with a fierce smile. God, she was putting that speed to use, too—he kept seeing glimpses of her out of the corner of his eye.

Of course, there was Bruce, too. Uncompromising, diehard, righteous Bruce. It felt strangely good to fight beside him, something Jay rediscovered every time. Some part of him—probably the kid he'd once been—took joy in it, felt a sense of rightness in fighting beside his mentor. Bruce passed up the escrima sticks and bō staffs and every other kind of weapon. He preferred to use his own body, bone and muscle and sinew and sheer will, to beat the hell of bad guys. Jay understood that. For all that he loved his guns, few things were more satisfying than brawling, landing a punch and feeling the impact bone-deep, hyper-aware of every hit, every cut, every bruise as they were given and received.

But even as he finished the thought, they ran out of enemies with adrenaline to spare, and Jay stood panting for a moment, someone's blood dripping off his gloves.

"We need to leave," Bruce growled. "The entire place is rigged to blow; GCPD and GCFD are already on their way here."

"Aw, and Mask is tied up in his safe room. Hope there isn't a bomb _too_ close to him," Jay said automatically.

Bruce cut him a disapproving look, but that was Bruce. "We need to disarm as many of the bombs as possible." With that he pulled out one of his scanners and tapped the keys, quickly bringing up a 3D hologram of the building schematic. The image rotated once, and then red lights began to blink from various locations on the supports.

Kala was watching the schematic, and before Bruce could make any decision she said, "I'm the fastest. I'll take the furthest ones away."

"Kala," Jay said, and cut himself off. Yeah, it was dangerous, but it was all dangerous, and it would be stupid _not_ to use her speed.

Bruce gave him another look, this one more thoughtful, and said, "Fan out, and keep your comms on. We only have five minutes."

Jay ran like hell. A lot of the bombs were on this floor, and each of them picked one. He found his at the base of a huge support pillar, and when he heard Bruce on the comm saying, "The covers aren't rigged," he just ripped the casing off. Inside were the typical countdown clock and a snarl of wires.

Defusing bombs was something he'd trained in extensively, and he knew it was part of Bruce's basic training too. All of them should be okay—but Jay couldn't think about that now. He was too busy figuring out which wire to cut.

"Okay, cutting," he said into the comm, squeezing his pliers. The next sound _wasn't_ a loud boom, so he added, "On mine, the wire was red and black."

"Same on mine," Dick said a minute later, and Timmy reconfirmed after him.

"Kala?" Bruce said, and only silence answered. Jay waited, his heart in his throat; she hadn't cut the wrong wire or they'd all have heard the boom. So what was she doing? She hadn't lost her nerve—he didn't think it was _possible_ for her to chicken out. So what—?

"That's all eight," Kala said in level, professional tones, and Jay breathed out. "Sorry, there was a fire up here, and I put that out. Besides, I figured the airspeed would garble everything I tried to say."

"We're done here, then," Bruce confirmed. "Rendezvous at the vehicles. The fire department and the police can handle this. The remaining survivors are safe enough for now."

"Remaining survivors?" Kala asked, her voice on the comm oddly fragile.

Dick spoke up. "We found a dozen more alive, just tranq'd. They must've started operating as soon as they knew we were coming, but they didn't get all of them."

No answer, but Kala was already at his bike when Jay got to it, leaned against it with her eyes closed and her head tilted to the night sky. Seeing how drained she looked, he resisted the urge to crush her in a hug. Sending her out into combat like this … even though he knew she was as ready as she ever could be, even though he knew exactly what advantages she brought to the table, it scared the shit out of him. Something he hadn't quite expected when they'd first started her training a month ago.

Had Bruce ever felt like this with any of his Robins? The thought stopped Jay cold for a second, but he shrugged it off. If he had, he'd never shown any sign of it. And in the end, no matter whether he'd feared losing them or not, he'd still sent them out to fight. Just like Jay had sent Kala out.

As if she'd finally noticed his footsteps, she opened her eyes and straightened up. What had happened in there was getting to her more than she wanted them to know, from the looks of it. There was a lot going on behind that hazel gaze when she smiled at him as he got on the bike. "Took you long enough, Red." The smile was just a tad too bright, trying to be chipper and unaffected, and he had a feeling she knew it. "And look, almost potentially blown up, and still didn't mess up the uniform."

"Good work, K," he said as she swung onto the bike behind him. Jay paused; that wasn't enough. "You kicked some serious ass in there."

He felt her shrug as she put her arms around him. "Thanks, Red," she said quietly, now sounding as tired as she must've felt. After a moment, Jay felt her tense, then lean forward and press her cheek against the back of his jacket. Her grip around him seemed to tighten a little more. Both signs that she trusted him. He knew she wouldn't have done this on the back of Timmy's bike.

It was an adrenaline dump, of course—her body was cashing all the checks it had written in the desperate fight. Jay was hearing from his own aching muscles and stressed joints, too. "Let's get home," he said, and didn't even realize he'd called the Manor 'home' for almost five miles.


	33. Safe Amongst the Debris

Listening to Bruce's mission debriefing back in the Cave, Kala absently rubbed at her eyes. Even after a long, hot shower and changing into comfy clothes, she was bone-tired, more than ready to head upstairs and fall into bed, maybe sleep for the next twenty-four hours. The whole evening had been a bit more involved than she'd expected, taking a lot more out of her than she'd quite been ready for, but in the end, she couldn't deny that it'd gone well. She also couldn't help the feeling that she just hadn't been good enough.

At least, it had gone well for those who lived. She'd only been able to save one kid from the nightmare that'd been Mask's operating theater. That little detail wouldn't leave her alone, despite the exhaustion that threatened to take her straight to dreamland right here on the cold stone floor. Just the stillness of the boy as she had flown him to the hospital haunted her. Kala wasn't even sure he would make it. It wasn't as if she could just waltz down to Gotham General and demand an update. She hadn't been close to him long enough to isolate his heartbeat across town. The Bats had to have their way. Maybe she could get Dick to check up on him for her or see if Babs had an in to their records, just so she'd know one way or another what had happened to him…

"…handled yourselves well. Despite the problems that cropped up, you all did your jobs, and even exceeded my expectations," Bruce went on as he drew up a live feed of the remaining cleanup at Mask's HQ. He threw a significant glance over his shoulder at Jay, who was busy leaning against the back of Bruce's chair, and added, "Oracle reported that there were no deaths among Black Mask's people. Forty-seven people taken into custody, all alive, including Mask himself."

Kala allowed herself a small smile at Jay's barely-hidden blush then; it said a lot that no one else was killed, especially considering most of the Batclan's history with Mask.

"Yeah, well, don't think it'll become a habit," Jay protested, shifting and crossing his arms over his chest.

Bruce's slightly lifted eyebrow in response said even more; of course Jay was making it a habit. Kala would've liked to think that she had something to do with that, but who knew? Maybe he was turning over a new leaf just because. Either way, she couldn't help but be glad that he was here, that he was working with the family, that … that his training had helped get her through this mission.

Shaking her head then, Kala blinked at the screen. The building was still swarming with police, firefighters, and bomb squad personnel. God, so much could've gone wrong tonight. She shivered just to think it.

But then Bruce closed down the screen, announcing with his usual finality, "You're all dismissed for the night. Get some sleep, and we'll cover the details tomorrow after lunch."

Kala let herself sag with relief that it was finally all over for the night as she turned to head up the stairs. These debriefings could just be so _long,_ especially after a full night of nonstop fighting. And the reality of what she had done was just starting to hit her, the enormity of the entire mission. It wasn't something she really wanted to consider when she was this worn out. The sudden relief from all of the anxiety was completely draining; she could honestly have slept for a week without trying.

 _Speaking of sleep_. Passing the console, she paused and glanced over at Jay, who had yet to get up, seeming lost in the thought and more than a little cranky. Had to have been because Bruce singled him out. Domino off, he was looking pretty ragged, too. She remembered her earlier threat, smirking, and whipped the chair around. His expression was priceless. Glaring down at him, she poked him in the nose with one blue-painted nail. " _You_. Your plans worked, we got in, Mask is locked up. You will get some sleep if I have to tie you to the bed myself. And if that doesn't work, I will beg Alfred for some scotch and pour it down your throat if I have to. You read me?"

The dramatic overstatement had started out like a joke, likely as much a scold to herself as to him, but Kala had realized as she looked down on him that exhaustion was starting to leave obvious marks on him. Her tone was more serious now as she frowned a little. "Jay, seriously. It's been a couple of days and you're about to fall over dead. I honestly don't care how, but _get some sleep._ Before I'm forced to do something that drastic _._ "

…

Jay was still keeping his head down after Bruce's comments about leaving Mask's thugs alive, letting the others leave ahead of him. He really didn't want him or the boys thinking that the Red Hood was gonna start toeing the line again, be a good boy and play by the rules. Dammit, he should've capped one of them just so Bruce wouldn't have that smug little happy smirk on his face. It would've been all right if no one had said anything…

The chair he was sitting in got jerked around, and Jay's reserves were so drained that he didn't even cock a fist at the jackass who'd done it. Which was a good thing, because it was Kala. And in the next minute, she was stabbing him in the nose with a pointing finger.

Totally caught off-guard, Jay could only stare at her as she lectured him. At first she seemed to be teasing, but by the end she looked all too serious—and seriously exhausted. Jay wasn't the only one who needed to crawl off somewhere and sleep for a week.

But damn, _really_? Who did she think she was, his mother? Later he would think of teasingly replying to that effect, but at the moment his defenses were down and he answered with the first snarky thing that came to mind. "Oh yeah? You gonna help me with that, Princess?"

The minute the words were out of his mouth, he knew how dumb they were and how she might take them. Jesus _fuck,_ what did he just say!? Then he realized Dick was still in the doorway, turning around to stare at both of them in surprise. Shit, he'd said that in front of _Dick_ _?_ Any second she'd slap him hard enough to break his jaw. And Dick would laugh his ass off at it.

But to Jay's shock, Kala's only response was a soft chuckle. It was clear she was as ready to fall over as he was, but oh, the smirk on her face then. "Only in your dreams, Jaybird." Her hand fell to his cheek then, no more nail stabbing him in the nose, patting against a cheekbone gently three times, the last one a solid enough smack to let him know not to try that bullshit again, then raised an arrogant, taunting eyebrow. "And, who knows? Maybe if you wish long enough. That said, quit brooding like Daddy Bat and get your ass in bed already. You're going to fall over your own feet on the way up if you wait much longer."

With that she sauntered out with a chuckle, shaking her head, and Jay sat in the chair, just blinking in amazement. What the _fuck_ had just happened? Was that a come-on or was she just screwing with him or what?

Both boys watched her go. "You didn't kiss her, did you?" Dick asked, deeply amused.

"Bite me," Jay growled.

Dick just laughed, shaking his head when he turned back to look at him. "You'd better get on that, little brother. She's only got one more day in town."

Jay firmly bit his tongue against saying anything about 'getting on that', and headed for his bedroom with all the dignity he had left.

…

Kala woke with a start, glancing around at her surroundings in a panic. For a few seconds she thought she was still in that eerily-dark and cold room. The phantom scent of blood and antiseptic lingered. All of those mutilated bodies, the ones they couldn't save. She could still hear the whispers of the dead, all asking pleadingly, "Why? Why was it me?"

Then there was silence, only her quick breathing audible. Her breath started to stutter then, once it sunk in that she was in her bed at the Manor, safe and sound. Safe, unlike all of those poor souls tonight. Kala felt tears prick her eyes and closed them. _Let it go, let it go, not real, it's over, it's over, just let it go._ A nightmare, that's all it was, a mirroring of the guilt she felt in lives lost. She struggled to sit up then, still shaking, her head in her hands as she got her bearings. God, that had been a bad one. Not the worst she'd ever had, not her usual flavor, but it was understandable, considering. It didn't make the lump in her throat go away, but it should've been expected.

She hadn't dealt with anything that had happened last night at all yet. It had been lights out five minutes after she'd gotten upstairs. She couldn't even remember getting into the shower, but she felt fresh-scrubbed despite the nightmare. There was no memory at all of getting into the tank-top and pajama shorts she was currently in. Walking into her room she remembered, the rest was just gone. Nothing she could recall in the least. That was probably why this had happened. How long had it been since she was that bone-tired? Then again, she'd never in her life done anything remotely close to last night's little escapade. Thinking back over it, it staggered her exactly what she had done. It was all a rather confusing tangle of amazement, pride, terror, and sorrow that she wasn't quite sure how to unravel. And she could still see the poor boy's face in her mind's eye, the survivor whose fate was still up in the air. She had to find out how he was doing. Maybe that would calm the unquiet voices in her conscience, if only a little.

With a sigh, she glanced over at the lighted alarm clock and groaned even louder. She had only been down for about three hours. She could hardly remember what time she'd fallen asleep. So much for sleeping for a whole day. As worn out as she still felt, any urge to curl up and go back to sleep had fled for the moment. She might as well get up. Maybe head to the library. God knew there was no way anyone but her could be up at this point. She wished to like hell _she_ wasn't, as it was.

Not even bothering to turn on the light, Kala made her way down the night-dark hallways, padding almost silently down the stairs. As she drew close to her destination, a little smile tugged at her lips. She might have known, she thought when she saw the glow escaping from underneath the door. Leave it to Jay to never listen to a word she said. She knew that he'd needed the sleep the worst after the last few days, but it would be a lie to say she didn't feel relieved that he was here.

Opening the door and stepping into the light, she called out without even seeing him, "You, sir, are as contrary as a cat," before closing the door behind her.

His weary half-smile at her when he looked up from the book he appeared to be just flipping through said he felt the same way, even as the darkness around his eyes said he should've been zonked out for a month's worth of beauty sleep.

"Takes one to know one," he shot back with just a hint of snark, closing his book and dropping it on the coffee table as Kala practically melted into the other end of the couch and drew her knees up to fold her feet beneath her.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke, both just blinking and studying the lines of exhaustion that the night had worn onto each other's faces. Kala wondered if it was always like this, that when things went bad—even a little bit, or even when you couldn't help what'd already happened—that it would haunt you. To judge by her Dad, it would; there'd been plenty of times that he'd come home absolutely wrecked from a job that went sideways, from rescues that just didn't come in time, from disasters and attacks and things that he just couldn't have stopped. But somehow, he'd always managed to pull himself back together.

She didn't know if she could measure up to that, not here and now, sitting silently with Jay in the harsh light of the chandelier—at this hour, anything outside of alarm clock light was too much—and certainly not with all those fresh images of broken and torn bodies still dancing behind her eyelids.

But she didn't say any of that out loud. How could she? After all the times Jay had warned her that this city could break a pretty girl like her into a million tiny pieces, she hadn't believed him. And now here she was, feeling so damned haunted that she couldn't help the tiny voice inside her that wanted to fly home right the hell now and curl up with her Mommy.

God, she hated that little voice sometimes.

"You've got the look of someone that's seen hell and lived to tell about it," Jay said then, finally breaking the strained silence.

Kala grimaced, despite herself. He was right; there was a reason she'd always sucked at card games. No poker face at all. The memories of that room made her stomach twist. Slumping back into the couch, Kala fought for the words that eluded her, and finally, she settled on the most direct truth. "I'm just … I couldn't stay down. All that, all of the plotting and planning and ass-kicking and we lost too many. Of the first batch, we could only save one kid. I don't even know if he's still alive. And—"

And she remembered that they'd found Jay's informant, his eye ripped out and his guts torn from his body like the stuffing from a doll. The thought sent a chill through her, and she shivered involuntarily. To think that they saw stuff like this every night. Just … _God._

"And?" Jay prompted her, an eyebrow raised.

A slow, deep breath, and Kala forced herself calm. Likely one of the boys had already told him, but she was being honest with him and she could still see the man when she closed her eyes. "We found your informant. They'd tortured him before killing him. I'm so sorry we didn't get there in time, Jay."

His response wasn't quite what she was expecting, though. One shoulder lifted, his lips quirking as his eyes went distant, and he blew out a breath, shaking his head minutely. "Knew that idiot was gonna get his ass killed. And no wonder the building was rigged to blow. Dammit."

That startled her into silence. That was it? That was all Jay had to say? Like it was just a logical conclusion to some guy's idiocy. True, he was a member of Black Mask's troops, but he had been willing to put himself out there to pass on intel. Jeez, Kala couldn't even comprehend—

But she stopped herself just as her mouth opened to give him a verbal smack-down for being so blasé about the whole thing. Hadn't he been the one to warn her that this city would make her jaded? But then she really _thought_ about what Jay was saying and the kind of person his informant had to have been. All things considered in this war, his reaction was almost understandable. But still…

Another slow breath, attempting to make sense of the scattered emotions she was working through, and all she felt was bitter, angry, and helpless. There had to have been something _more_ they could have done. It was a childish, impossible line of thought, but it was there nonetheless. "I can still see all of it when I close my eyes. I can still feel how cold that room was, even in high summer. And all those dead bodies. We never even had a chance of making it in time." Coping with this, the tactile example of the deliberate evil of someone like Mask, shook her deeper than anything had in a long time. And she wondered again if she could handle this life. Kala turned to Jay then, voice hushed, "Does it ever get any easier? Or do you just go numb from it all?"

Jay gave her a gentle look at that, incongruous again, and leaned back with his arm slung across the back of the sofa. "It shouldn't. But I've seen a lot of dead people, K. Been responsible for some of them, too. You know that. After a while, some of them don't even register. It's not so much numbness as a set of pretty good blinders. Ask any cop or firefighter or paramedic or soldier, and they'll probably agree. When you see so much death, you learn to focus on who can be saved, and leave the rest to think about later, or not at all. It's all you can do to save your sanity, to keep doing the job one more day."

At that, Kala could only nod, only barely keeping her jaw from dropping open. She'd never expected something so … so _wizened_ to come out of Jay's mouth. This was so unlike his usual snarky, flippant attitude; he was being serious, and at the same time he was just so jaded it hurt. The thought that this was just the way the world was—that this kind of thing could happen so often that it stopped being shocking, became part of a normal night—was the single most horribly depressing thing Kala had ever heard in her entire life.

A frown drew across her brow, the mere thought of getting used to it an affront to everything she had ever been taught. Even at its darkest, her mind wouldn't allow for that. No, that was not the way Supers did things, reality or not. "Jason Todd, that is the epitome of fucking bleak, you know that?" she said flatly.

Jay shrugged one shoulder, his mouth quirked up in a bitter smile. "Welcome to Gotham."

His near-indifferent tone just fired her up further. No, absolutely not. Knowing the deeper, day-to-day world was harsh was one thing; giving in to it was just something she _would not_ do. "Bullshit. That's such utter _bullshit_. You and I both know it shouldn't be like this," Kala retorted, actually angry at him now. "With everything we do, with as many of us are out there every night to stop it, how the hell does it go on? Why haven't we put an end to it by now?"

His answer was just as dry and emotionless. "Evolution. We get better at catching them, they get better at getting away."

The truth in his statement tasted of gall in the back of her throat. It hurt; the whole thought of it hurt. _It's not right. None of this is right._ "Then why even bother? If we can't make it any better, why risk our lives, why break our hearts, every night locked in the same stupid cycle? _Why_ , if it doesn't make any goddamn difference?" Her voice was almost breaking at the end, pain clawing her chest and stealing her breath.

Jay leaned toward her, dead serious. "Because we have to. Because we're not the kind of people who can see this shit going down and not do something. Because it'd be a thousand times worse if no one even tried to stop it. And because it makes a big goddamn difference to that kid, if he lives."

The boy. He was right, of course – to the boy, it mattered more than anything. All the air went out of her. Kala tried to suck in a breath, and felt herself on the verge of tears. Cold skin, vital parts of his body missing, lying nearly dead on that icy slab, and yet that stubborn thready beat had fought to keep going.

Kala nodded silently, willing the tears not to come. She didn't know if she could stop if she let the dam go now. Jay was right. _That_ was why, that one life, just one life out of dozens saved, but it was a _life_ , a whole life, that kid might have decades ahead of him thanks to them. Thanks to _her_. He had a chance, now, a chance to be someone, to make something of his life.

This was why her father, who could unwind a tornado or redirect an erupting volcano, stopped to keep inattentive businessmen from walking into traffic. This was why he got kittens out of trees. Every life saved _counted_ , every act of kindness was one more mark against the evil in the world. It wasn't a fight they could ever win, human nature being what it was, but it was one they could keep from losing every day.

And this was why Jay hadn't quit. He had never _really_ become a villain, even in his darkest days; he'd no longer believed they could win, so he'd turned the fight to his advantage. Even then, he drew the line at harming innocents. He had only ever killed people who would cause the deaths of others, so he probably saw it as a net gain for the good side. Looking at it that way, everything she'd ever heard of him doing made a brutal kind of sense.

But still, he'd turned it around. Black Mask was still alive, and no one from tonight's fiasco had met a quick death from Jay's hands. Whether anyone else believed it or not, Jay was one of the good guys. And he wasn't as shallow or bloodthirsty as anyone painted him – as he painted _himself_. Hell, he sounded awfully wise and kind of despairing right now. If the rest had seen this—but Jay didn't let most people that close to him.

Why should he? Most people heard him mouthing off to the boys and Bruce, saw him spraying lead all over some alley, and wrote him off as a dangerous, unhinged wild card. Much the same way they'd written her off, only substitute 'untrained' for 'unhinged'. Well, _maybe_ substitute.

Kala took a deep breath, attempting to pull herself together. Another deep breath in, then out. Satisfied that she had herself under control, she cocked her head then and looked at him seriously. "Hmm, maybe, just maybe you have a future as a decent human being, Red."

He laughed at her then. "Oh, no. Trust me, the ship sailed on any chance of decency a long time ago. I'm an asshole for life."

Kala snickered tiredly at him, breaking into an exhausted grin. "Oh, no, far be it from me to imply that anything could change that. But there's something of a Robin still under there somewhere. You control a lot more of what's going on up there than you let on. You _do_ give a shit about what happens in this town and in this family. Face it, Jaybird, you're not half as callous to everything as you want us all to believe."

Jay eyed her askance. "Keep your voice down, I got a reputation to consider here."

She looked at him for a second, then threw her head back and laughed. That was just so very Jay, she couldn't help it. He hadn't even bothered to deny the truth in what she had said. 'Contrary' didn't even begin to describe him, and it seemed as if that very fact was a big part of the reason that she just couldn't keep her brain off of him for very long these days. Crunchy on the outside, soft and squishy on the inside.

And even as Jay snickered with her, his expression turned introspective for a moment—the very definition of contrariness—and his hand drifted from the back of the sofa to Kala's bare shoulder, fingers just barely brushing her skin. She suppressed a shiver at the unexpected touch, the laugh dying in her throat despite the smile that remained on her lips.

"By the way, I'm sorry for that 'Princess' remark earlier," Jay said quietly, sudden earnestness in his eyes as they met hers. "Just … tired."

It was late enough and she was tired enough that it took her a moment to remember what he was talking about. And then she chuckled. "Yeah, well, we were both about half-dead and can't really be responsible for what either of us said," she replied with a little grin. "God, about half as tired as we are now. And like I said before, you're a jerk. Wasn't surprised at all. You're forgiven."

All those weeks of putting up with the cutesy little names he'd given her—'Princess', 'Supergirl', 'Goth Barbie', and on and on—all of it was forgiven. It was easier now to see what had been behind it. It had all been about pushing her to try harder, not just some personal chip on his shoulder. The worry he had expressed had been behind it. Mostly, anyway.

A little smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Thanks," he said.

She smiled back then, warmly. "You're welcome, you big jerk." That was the other reason, all of those little tells, the tiniest little glimmers of something underneath that handsome smirk he was always hiding even deeper. Glimmers that kept her trying to understand him and that maybe, just maybe, she might one day find out the mystery behind it. Not only that, but that she actually wanted to be the one to drag it out of him.

Somehow he was close enough to reach out and touch, if she wanted, Kala realized, watching Jay as much as he was watching her. Kala caught herself then, wondering if he might have been leaning ever so slightly closer to her or if she was the one shortening the space between them. On the heels of that quandary, the door to the library clicked open, the sound of the latch and the swish of the door entirely too loud.

Kala found them at completely opposite ends of the sofa in an instant, seeming miles apart and the warmth between them dissipated, both gazes now turned on their early-morning intruder with a mixture of frustration and contriteness.

Uncle Bruce. Rubbing one eye with the heel of a hand and looking at them blearily, clad in his pajamas and a long robe and—dear God—cat slippers. That had to be Catwoman's hand at work. Maybe she stole every pair of his and left them, forcing him to wear them and think of her.

 _Oh, shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit._ If he saw—

But there was nothing to see, she reminded herself. Nothing at all. They were grown adults, regardless.

Bruce blinked at them a few times as he seemed to register who was in the room, and then stepped over to the opposite sofa and dropped down onto it, a frown moving over his face.

"I thought it might be you two," he said, his voice rough with sleep. "You could wake the dead, the way you carry on."

Kala gave him an placating smile, wondering. Had they really been so loud that they had woken Bruce on the opposite end of the hall and a floor up? Bruce, who was legendary for his deep sleep in all situations but work. And all they were doing was talking, anyway, her hyena-laugh withstanding. "Sorry, Uncle Bruce," she apologized. "I didn't mean to wake anyone. Didn't realize I was braying that loud."

An appraising look, and Bruce nodded. "I know. Needed to speak with the two of you, anyway."

Without meaning to, the pair of them exchanged a look. God only knew what this could be about. Jay sat forward on his end of the sofa, clasping his hands over his knees. "Lemme guess, we're jeopardizing the Mission by laughing."

Kala couldn't help but mirror Bruce's raised eyebrow and silent glare at him. Jeez, he was nuts to jerk his dad's chain at this hour.

"Okay, okay," he relented then, lifting his palms in mock-surrender. "It's almost five AM; you can't blame a guy for getting punchy. What's up?"

Bruce took a deep breath, laying off the glare. "I wanted you to know that I know about the night at the warehouse."

He held up a hand then to forestall their imminent denials, that Kala had no doubt would be epic, considering the way her heart tried to leap up her throat and make a break for it. "No, I didn't hear it from Alfred. Or Barbara," he went on. "Your secrets are safe with them. But did you really think you could take on a mission like that, come out bloody, and no one would know? Kala, did you think that I wouldn't know your every move while you're in Gotham? Or did you both forget just who I am?"

Kala's voice decided to run away and hide at that, her throat working but no sound escaping, while all Jay seemed to be able to manage was a breathless 'shit' as he scrubbed a hand over his face. Kala could only bite her lip and wait for the judgment to come down. They were so screwed. So very, very screwed. If Bruce decided to tell Kala's Dad what had gone down in that warehouse, it was a pretty safe bet that somebody would be fried in their sleep, even if she _was_ an adult, and perfectly capable of making her own decisions, careless or stupid as they might be.

"So, what gave us away?" Jay finally said, his lips twisting with tension.

Bruce smiled ever so slightly. "Kala's sunbath."

And there it was. Kala winced at her own idiocy, realizing just how completely they'd messed up. Of course the sunbath would've given her away. After all, why else would she have gone up for sun, if she wasn't broken or bleeding? The rules for her training had been crystal clear on that matter. It likely didn't help that she had overdone it, either. From fish-belly white to almost shimmering with solar light the next morning? Yeah. Just dumb.

Deflating, Kala shook her head. "Guess we should've just said something, huh?"

Bruce smiled that tiny, wry smile that he tended to wear when he knew he was absolutely right about something, which was almost always. "It would've saved you both a lot of trouble. And you could've come here straight away for medical attention. I understand Alfred had to redo your stitches, Jason. That shouldn't have had to happen."

Jay took his turn to wince just slightly at that. "I bet you didn't even have to interrogate him to figure that out, huh?"

"Nope."

Kala spoke up then, looking directly at the older man with a comforting smile and a little shrug. "Honestly, there was some good in it, Uncle Bruce. We found the absolute limits of what I could handle effectively before I started to shut down. We found out what my strengths and weaknesses are in a fight. And Jay also taught me enough field-surgery to potentially save a teammate's life, if it ever comes to that. All of that has to count for something."

That said, she cast a brief and honestly grateful look at Jay. At least that much of it was the truth. It had all been for a good reason. "Besides, going out that night the way we did was partially my fault. I was the one that kept pushing Jay to let me try and I didn't want him to go alone. I might have gone after him if he had just sent me home. If anyone should be called on the carpet, it ought to be me. I was the one that wouldn't let him alone about it."

Bruce gave her an appraising look. "All good points," he said with a small nod. "But you both know that Jay was entrusted with your safety, and things could've gone much worse than they did, which would've reflected badly on _all_ of us. And the fact remains that you were ambushed." Another raised hand to stop them before they could interrupt, and he went on, "I know, you couldn't have known, and it was a last-minute call, but in this business, there's no such thing as being too prepared. The next time something like that happens, I expect you to call for back-up _immediately._ No questions, no excuses, no exceptions. Got it?"

There was a wild moment then where Kala was determined to object to how Bruce had completely brushed off the good that had come of that night. This was something she was noticing a lot about her uncle lately; the summer was slowly teaching her exactly why her father could both love and be hopelessly frustrated by the Bat. But she'd be leaving in a couple of days and, at this point, it would be best to take her cues from Jay.

Still with that little spark of defiance burning, Kala managed a nod as Jay gave his own grumbled agreement, resenting feeling like a chastened child. Or at least a teenager that had been caught coming in hours after curfew.

Bruce wasn't done, however, and after a long, pointed look, he added, "Good. And Kala, I _am_ glad that you had the opportunity to learn a few hard lessons, with no lasting repercussions. I'm sure you know that you could've been killed, so I won't lecture you on that point, but now you've seen the worst of it. You've seen how easy it is to get hurt, powers or no, and you've seen what you'll be dealing with if you decide to keep going down this path. It isn't easy, on any level."

Beside her, Jay gave a smirk, his eyes nearly dancing with mirth, and Kala had the distinct impression that tonight had been her final test. Blinking at them both, she let out a tiny, dry laugh, her own mouth turning up with a half-smile.

"Yes, sir," she said. "I think the message has sunk in. And I'll keep working on the things all of you taught me; I get this feeling that you're not going to get rid of me so easily." It was her turn to smirk back at Jay. "I think I might understand what everyone's been trying to tell me about the legacy. Finally."

"Glad to hear it," Bruce said, straightening. "Now you two should try to get some sleep. The afternoon mission briefing will come all too soon." Standing, he smoothed down his robe and added, "Good night," before stepping out of the room and closing the door quietly behind him.

The two looked at each other after he left, both a little wide-eyed still, and then Kala cracked a sly smile. "Oh shit, your dad found out you let me get in a _fiiiiiiight_ ," she taunted in a stage-whisper, deliberately widening her eyes with purely dramatized panic. "Oh God, Jay, our lives are over. We're both gonna get _grounded_."

That got a laugh from him. "Yeah, just don't tell _your_ dad I let you get in a fight."

She left off the teenage-cheerleader act to give a snort of amusement. "Oh, please. What do you think he thinks he sent me here for, Jay? You know, here to _Gotham_? I'll give you a hint. Much as I love him, it wasn't for baking lessons with Alfred. Let's have a little realism here. My father expects it. I've been getting in fights for as long as I can remember. Give Dad some credit for knowing his daughter at all."

Jay gave her a serious look. "I let Superman's baby girl get sliced and diced. This doesn't look good for the future of my face, or any other body parts I don't want lasered off."

Narrowing her eyes, Kala snapped out tersely, "Give me some credit here, Jay. I may have picked up 'Goth Barbie' as a nickname from a few wits in the community, but it was for my wardrobe, not my wits – or lack thereof. I told you that I spent a week in Themyscira, learning to fight _with_ my powers toe-to-toe with _Amazons_. Do you really think Artemis went easy on me? Do you think _Diana_ went easy on me? I didn't look as bad as I did after the day you unloaded on me, but I had solar power working for me." Just her tone implied that questioning her now would be a bad idea. It was just too late for a conversation like this. She should never have let them go here. Everyone had their sore spots.

"Relax, K," Jay said, looking a little taken aback at her scathing retort. "Shit, _I_ know damn well you're more Badass Action Figure than any flavor Barbie. You're the toy kids _wanna_ get in their Happy Meal. I'm just sayin', most guys aren't exactly rational about their daughters, their _only_ daughters, and I don't want your dad kicking my ass."

The Happy Meal comment made her chuckle, but Kala wasn't quite appeased yet. "It's been a month since we started our training, Jay. Do you really think I'm gonna go running to Daddy _now_ , if I had ever meant to in the first place, and tell him you let me get a little cut because I couldn't handle myself?"

"No, but we were keeping it to ourselves. If Bruce knows, he might let it slip to Clark, and then I can kiss my good looks goodbye."

God, he was fixated. " _Jay_. He is _not_ going to hunt you down. Dad doesn't work like that. If he gets mad at anyone, it'll be me and my lack of focus."

"I was responsible for your safety," Jay insisted stubbornly.

Kala looked at him flatly, and sighed, dropping her head back against the back of the couch. "Jay, seriously. Knock it off. We both know I'm perfectly fine, I healed up without a scratch, so calm the fuck down. My father has zero reason to know about _Kala and Jay's Wild Adventure_. Besides, if he was gonna get upset about anything, it would be Bruce letting me disable a bunch of bombs. _In a burning building._ We don't know if I'm explosion-proof yet, so _that_ might freak him out a whole lot more than a couple stitches."

Jay considered that, and nodded. "Yeah, Bruce wouldn't tell on me because I could tell on him, and then both of our asses would be on the line."

That line of thought had Kala snickering again. "Your family dynamic is fucked sideways," she opined, and broke into a yawn.

" _My_ family dynamic is fucked? Look at your family dynamic. You've got everything but the picket fence, and your dad's an _alien_. It's so normal it's weird."

Staring at him from beneath eyelids that were growing heavier, Kala said loftily, "I have news for you. One, any family where 'no superpowers in the house' is a rule is _not_ normal. Two, like everyone else in the community, you've got a warped perception of my family. Three, we do so have a picket fence. On the terrace, on one side of the dogs' grass patch. Dad thinks it's cute, and it gives my stepparents' male dog something to aim at. Which blends in perfectly with Mom's opinion of picket fences."

"Like I said. It _looks_ normal, but your shit's just as weird as ours." Jay yawned too.

"Whatever. For all our quirks, we don't have to plot ways to keep ourselves out of trouble with anyone. At least, not anymore. No one in my family keeps a blackmail list on each other—except me and Jason, and we quit that when we were about seventeen or eighteen. Well, Mom keeps track of potential bribes, but she's a force for mostly good and does it outside of the family." She smirked and stretched, stifling a yawn. "Not that I don't still have plenty of dirt on Lizardboy, mind you, but I'm not holding onto it so he can't tell on me."

Jay shrugged, propping one elbow on the back of the couch. "Well, considering the way things have fallen out, this is about as normal as I get. Dick, now, he's the happy huggy Robin, and Tim's … well, he's Tim."

"He's _so_ the baby," Kala chuckled, stifling a yawn.

"And he's only like a year younger than you," Jay pointed out.

"Yeah, but he's generally the favorite wherever he goes, despite the fact that he wants to be Bruce Junior so bad you can feel it…" Another yawn. "Not that I blame him. That's just Tim. Must be something in his genetics, even."

He looked away at that. "Yeah, Tim the perfect Boy Wonder."

 _Oh, Jay, come on._ Kala thumped his shoulder, looking up at him with a sour expression. "I didn't say that or imply it. Stop reading more into it than what's there. Tim's just the one that latched onto Bruce's teachings as if they were gospel. You and Dick never trusted Bruce quite as much as Tim has. Remember, he grew up watching you two. I mean, I really don't know what it is about him, Jason, and Cassie, that's just how they are. They make friends with everyone without even trying. So smooth out your feathers, Jaybird." Wanting to get them back on level ground, she flashed him a grin. "Besides. Me? I've discovered over the years that I happen to like the even Robins. I was a big fan of the fourth and now I think I'm start to think there might be something to the second."

"Yeah, well, at least us black sheep siblings stick together," Jay teased, catching her by the back of the head without warning and dragging her over to rumple her hair.

His movements were so sudden that she startled, her eyes wide open again. No dramatics this time. She growled sleepily, irritably, swatting at him. "Stop it!"

"Aw, come on, I was a deprived kid. I never had a little sister to pick on."

Kala shot him a _look_. "Oh, yeah, because you were _all_ kinds of brotherly on the mats the other day." As soon as she said it, her hand came up to cover her mouth. "Ooookay. Ignore that. It's getting late enough that I'm shooting my mouth off without an override button."

"I can tell by the number of times you said 'fuck' in the last ten minutes," Jay said, tugging her closer to his side.

"I do know the meaning of the word, Jay, and all it … implies." There was another yawn that snuck up on her too fast to be stifled. "Not all Supers are goody-two-shoes, you know," Kala muttered, stretching a little before finally giving in and snuggling against his shoulder. Jay had his boundaries, she knew that, but he had been the one to drag her over here in the first place. He could blame it on himself if she used him for a cushion. Sleep was starting to sound like a very good idea, and Jay was warm and comfortable. A guard against the scaries wandering in her mind at the moment if she couldn't stay awake much longer, she thought as her eyes drifted closed and she nestled her cheek against the crook of his shoulder. Maybe Bruce was right, maybe she should get some rest…

The last thing Kala was conscious of was Jay turning his head toward her, lowering his head until his cheek rested against her hair, and feeling finally comfortable and safe as sleep came for her.

…

As soon as Kala snuggled in against Jay's side, her snarky comeback slurring off into silence, Jay knew she'd lost the battle against her exhaustion. He couldn't much blame her; with the way the night had gone, he was having trouble keeping his own eyes open.

But now that she was slowly relaxing in his arms, he didn't really want to sleep. His mind was just too full, of all the shit that had happened tonight, of Bruce's revelations—how the hell they thought they could get away with keeping that clusterfuck to themselves he had _no_ idea—of Kala. He'd never expected to get so close to her, to open up like he had over the past month. He sure as fuck never expected that closeness to bring him back into the fold with the family. And yet, here he was. Here _they_ were.

It was some kind of miracle. Or something.

And Kala was due to leave in less than two days.

Jesus fuck, what had he gotten into?

With that question overtaking everything else, all his focus on the woman sleeping soundly against him, Jay nuzzled into Kala's hair, breathing her in deeply. Not a trace of the smoke from Black Mask's burning compound remained, replaced by the scent of her shampoo. Still couldn't put his finger on exactly what the smell made him think of, something sweet like candy, but floral, too. It made his senses swim, his thoughts whirling; of course Kala could so thoroughly wash away the evidence of the hell this night had been.

If only it hadn't left the stain of death on her soul. Of all the things she'd had to learn, Jay just regretted that she'd had to become so acquainted with that specter.

Jeez, he'd become a such a sap that here he was, snuggling Kala as she slept, and wishing he could protect her from the darkness of the world, when she was arguably better equipped to deal with it than he was. Stifling a chuckle, he tightened his arms around her and let out a slow breath. It wasn't so long ago that he'd wanted to send her away, get her out of the game for good, because there was just no place in this world for a pretty princess. She'd sure proved him wrong, hadn't she?

An involuntary yawn, and Jay came back to his senses enough to realize that the sun was just starting to rise, the sky outside graying with the earliest hint of dawn. In a few hours, the entire household would be up, the Manor bustling with its usual late morning insanity. That didn't leave much time for either he or Kala to get proper sleep in their own beds.

The only solution, then, was to catch whatever they could right here. He sure as fuck wasn't about to disturb Kala since she'd finally crashed. But fuck if he was gonna let her sleep like this, all uncovered and freezing half to death. Reaching behind the couch blindly, he felt around until his hand landed on the blanket folded neatly over the rack there—thank God for Alfred's super-preparedness—and tugged at the fuzzy fleece, awkwardly maneuvering the blanket until it was draped over both of them.

There. That was a lot better. Kala sighed in her sleep, the sound almost musical, and Jay smoothed down her hair, leaning back enough to get comfortable and propping his bare feet up on the coffee table.

With any luck, his brothers wouldn't wake them until at least noon.


	34. Changes Every One Before

Greetings, all! This is co-author Lois popping in to say that you guys get an extra treat this weekend. As my birthday is Tuesday, one of my presents is going to be that we work exclusively on this guy for the three days I'm off, so you get a chapter tonight, a chapter tomorrow (per schedule), and one Tuesday, both per schedule and on my birthday). The timing is deliberate and hopefully everyone will enjoy what's next!

daisygirl22, since we can't message you, thank you so much! We really appreciate it! He's a fun character to work with and more fun to try to make realistic. Hope you enjoy the next chapters!

 **Edited to add:** We found and fixed a couple of typos.

* * *

Never had Kala thought she should've listened to Bruce so much. After the mid-morning mission debriefing—the long, _long_ , detailed debriefing, as if last night's didn't seem to drag on forever—Kala headed back up to her room on the third floor of the Manor to try to catch a catnap. She still felt as if she hadn't slept in a week, the few hours she'd gotten early that morning notwithstanding, and the quick morning bask had only blown away some of the dust and cobwebs. Memories of last night, and the boy she'd gotten out, still weighed heavily. She had to figure out a way to get an update on him, had to find a way to go a step further to help him. The Super in her couldn't just leave it to fate.

And then there was Jay.

She'd awakened that morning still in the study, cheek against his shoulder, the top of her head under his chin. A blanket had been pulled up over them both on the sofa, her spine was kinked up from the way she'd fallen sideways against him as she'd slept, and an arm was draped loosely around his waist. After realizing that, she'd been more than a little embarrassed to be caught out and had carefully but quickly disentangled herself. Wow, as if that hadn't been telling as hell. But he never even twitched; in the end, it was Jay's face looking utterly peaceful as he sort of half-snored, that kept her from getting up entirely. Kala had paused, letting herself watch him for a moment. She'd never seen him look so young. Sometimes it was hard to remember that he was only a couple of years older than she was. He'd also probably have killed her if he knew she was lurking, the thought occurred to her with a tiny smirk.

The gears had been running slow after the late morning, taking a minute to process what had happened. So they had just ended up passing out down there? She couldn't even remember falling asleep; the last thing she'd remembered was Jay teasing her about something, and then out. It shouldn't have been such a surprise that they were still on the couch; Jay had been pretty worn down when she'd come into the study in the first place. Probably he'd been worried that he'd dump her on the floor if he tried to take her to her room. They really had been a pathetic sight at that point.

And there was no denying that Jay's warmth had helped her drop off into dreamland. Kala couldn't help wondering at the feeling of safety and comfort that she'd found there in his arms. The minute she thought it, true or not, she had to roll her eyes at the cliché. With a shake of her head at the thought, Kala pretended she wasn't fighting an actual smile. How had so many things changed in the last six weeks? Wasn't this the same guy who had split her lip wide open the first time they'd sparred? Who had zero qualms about being a know-it-all asshole? How did it even make sense that the one person that she'd been warned against so thoroughly had been the one to make her feel the most secure? It simply boggled her mind, even as it made a crazy kind of sense.

She'd sat there a while, thinking over the night before and just quietly watching him sleep, before making herself creep off to her bed for a few more hours of less spine-twisting sleep. Kala had stopped to tuck the blanket back around him, feeling awkward about leaving like that, and had paused. How the hell was it all about Jay and the way he made her feel now? Before she had realized that she was doing it, Kala had leaned down and pressed an impulsive kiss against his hair. It was sudden and instinctive, done before she had even thought about it. Standing up quickly then, Kala stayed rooted to the spot, for all that she wanted to fly off. What the _hell_ had she been thinking? What the hell would she have said when he woke up? _Idiot._

But if Jay had woken up when she touched him, he hadn't given any sign of it—then again, she knew he was desperately low on sleep, so maybe her departure hadn't woken him. And now here she was, an hour later and a floor away, _still_ thinking about him.

She groaned then, closing her eyes with a sigh. There was no getting back to sleep. Unable to resettle, her mind overwrought with things she really ought to be compartmentalizing, Kala found herself blinking up at the ceiling of her room, then out at the bright, sunny day just outside the window. Could she do anything without finding a way to over-complicate it? Maybe she should just give it up and head out for some more sun. If she spent enough time soaking up photons, wouldn't that fill in the energy gap? It wouldn't have time to catch up on her too badly. Besides, the plan was that she'd take it easy for the first couple of days home…

That was when she realized with a start that she only had a day and a half left. Kala sat up, eyes shooting open, feeling a sudden tightening in her chest. God, it really was. Bruce had mentioned it last night, but it hadn't quite percolated then. Her plane tickets were for mid-afternoon tomorrow. Hell, Sebast had texted her yesterday before the afternoon briefing to make final decisions on her pick-up and she had shoved it to the back of her mind. Biting her lip, the world imploded a little. Her stomach lurched at the thought, her chest tightening What the hell was she going to do? About all of this? What _could_ she do? And why the hell was she feeling like she couldn't go?

 _I have to go home. Any other possibility is ridiculous. I have a life I have to get back to. Be realistic, Kala. And over a guy. A guy who never said a word about it, who you could be reading wrong. Don't be an idiot._ But that wasn't necessarily true; Jay's reactions to her at times, all the things he had done for her, during her training and even here since he'd given her back to the Bats. Didn't that say something that words couldn't? She didn't know. She just didn't know. Her track record proved she couldn't trust her instincts.

With a growl of frustration, she closed her eyes and forced herself to sit up. That's it; she had to move. _I can't. Not right now. Got to clear my head. Then I'll try to get this figured out. I just can't now._ That decided her. And she did what she usually found herself doing when certain kinds of decisions, _relationship_ decisions, came up in her life.

Kala ran. Or, rather, flew.

Throwing back the covers, she slid out of bed and went to her dresser to fish out a halter top and jean shorts; that'd give her the most exposure without letting her flash the entirety of Gotham. Soaking up as much solar energy as possible should fight off the maudlin bullshit and cobwebs. Out to the balcony she went, leaving the French doors slightly open so that if anyone came looking for her, they'd know she'd headed up. Once out in the sun, her skin tingled happily, drinking in the sunlight so greedily that it seemed almost as if she hadn't gone up earlier at all. An instant jolt of energy zipped along her nerves, and she shook herself, letting her hair flow out behind her as she opened her arms to the light and began to hover, gravity giving way and the balcony receding beneath her.

Even thoughts of Jay and of the poor little boy she'd found disappeared into the background as Kala's mind filled with the purity of the light. Nothing else. Warmth, healing, wholeness; _this_ was what she'd needed. And she could certainly catch some more sleep later, when all of this didn't seem so immediate, so fresh. Distance, yes. She just needed some distance…

There really was no real way of telling how long as basked; maybe an hour, maybe two. It didn't matter; the rest of the Bats wouldn't be awake until ten at the easiest. Letting herself drift, relieved to not have to care for a while, Kala just barely caught the light rap of knuckles on her bedroom door far below, Dick's voice following as he called her name tentatively.

And that was enough to burst her bubble. Real life once again laughing at her for trying to pull the Peter Pan act again. That earned a heartfelt sigh. Damn. If she heard it, then there was no ignoring it. Especially if it was Dick, especially not this early. He wasn't one to randomly pop in when it had been a rough run; he had to consider whatever news he had important. And, in light of last night, there was a good chance that it was.

Getting her bearings, Kala glanced down at the Manor as she began to descend, realizing only belatedly that she'd managed to drift high enough that the estate wasn't much more than a pinprick far beneath her. Considering her current state of mind, she'd taken 'distance' a little too literally. Able to smile a little now, she allowed herself a free-fall on her descent, slowly decelerating before she landed on the balcony.

Opening the door, she found Dick looking serious—not a normal look for him. That wasn't very hopeful. A knot in her gut expanded, and Kala raised an eyebrow at him with a tiny smile. This didn't bode well. "Hey. Good morning. Sorry, I didn't sleep well and went up for a bit. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Can I come in and talk?" was all he said at first.

Nope, didn't bode well at all. There was only one thing she could imagine Dick possibly being somber over, but maybe that was just her own worries bleeding over. A nod, and Kala moved out of the way to let Dick in. When he settled in one of the arm chairs, she dropped down lightly into the one opposite, forcing herself to not bite at her lip.

Carefully, Dick started, "I managed to contact Gotham General a few minutes ago."

That struck her right in the solar plexus, driving the breath out of her. Her heart sank, a hand going to her lips as the dread bubbled up again. Oh God. It had to be about the takedown, about the little boy… he couldn't be dead. The thought made her eyes well up; she hadn't been fast enough. It hadn't been enough, she should have gotten him there faster….

"The kid you rescued is alive, K." A slow smile spread over Dick's face and Kala huffed out a tearful laugh of relief, her knees weak. The comfort that came from that knowledge was like a wave, soothing a good portion of the tension that had held her since she had left him in that too-bright waiting room. "He had to have _a lot_ of surgery, and he's hooked up to a lot of machines, but it looks good. He'll be in serious condition for a while, and will need more surgery later, but they said he'll make it."

And all at once, the knot in Kala's gut dissolved, all her near-panic shattering in the face of good news.

"Oh my God, Dick, I thought you were gonna tell me he died!" she said at last, as she managed to catch her breath, wiping away the tears that had fallen, and she couldn't help grabbing the pillow off the chair and flinging it at him. Her relief was so palpable that she practically vibrated with it.

Dick chuckled with her, catching the pillow and flinging it back. "Sorry, Kala. It's serious, I don't mean to sugarcoat the situation, but he _will_ live. I thought you should know. I just didn't … he's gonna have a tough time, but at least they were able to give him back his own organs."

There weren't words for how that made her feel, the sudden, very hot urge to find Mask in his cell and repay even a portion of what he had inflicted second-hand on the child, but she made herself stifle it. No, she didn't think she'd ever have a cool head about what happened to kids, but she would keep her temper and do Jay proud. Her job was to make sure that she was capable of saving the others in his position out there; he did mean something to her and would in the future. He was what finally made her understand. "I know it'll be tough, but Dick? If we can, keep me updated on him, at least for a while?" Kala asked, giving him a hopeless smile. "This one … I've saved people before, but that kid, finding him like that … he means something to me."

"Will do," Dick agreed. "Oh! And before I forget, the boy's name is Liam. It looks like he was just snagged off the street three days ago. His mom was there with him at the hospital."

Another wave of shock and relief swept through Kala with that news. _Liam._ The boy had a name and a family. He wasn't… The thought hit her that at another time, he very well could've been _Jay_ , that Jay had lived on the streets and could just as easily have been grabbed up and tortured, taken apart so some millionaire somewhere could have new kidneys. She shivered to even think it.

But _this_ boy had been saved. They'd found him in time, and had gotten him home to his mother. Suddenly, the whole endeavor felt like it'd been worth it. Even if they hadn't found the other survivors, even it had turned out to be just one child they saved, so he could grow up and have a life of his own. It was worth it. All this training, all the bruises and cuts and wounds and even broken bones, it was all worth it for the lives saved.

With that revelation came the feeling that this summer had been just a blip on the radar, just the first real step toward growing into the hero that she was … was _destined_ to be. And damn, to think of it as her destiny was a reality shift that she'd never expected. Kala was born to be a rock star, that was undeniable, but to have also been born to this, to be a hero, was almost beyond comprehension. All those years of silently feeling second best, like she was the 'spare' in the 'heir and a spare' equation despite her father's best efforts just melted away. Gone.

Wow.

"Hey, you okay?"

Dick's voice cut through Kala's fog of sudden comprehension, and she gathered herself up enough to let out a breathy laugh, leaning forward with clasped hands and shaking her head. "Yeah," she managed, catching his gaze. "I'm okay. I think I'm really okay."

He leaned back from where he'd been waving his hand in front of her. "Good. You _look_ pretty okay for a girl who was half-asleep all through the mission debriefing. That Gotham summer sun must really agree with you." His eyes crinkled with amusement.

 _Or maybe it's just your brother_ , her mind snarked suddenly, loud enough that Kala had to try to hide her reaction to hearing that spoken. _No no_ _ **no**_ _._ "Oh, shut up," she shot back, smiling despite herself. "Turned out I just really needed a longer sun soak, is all."

"Well, it certainly looks like it helped," he smiled back.

 _Not even thinking it. Not even_ _ **thinking**_ _it. You will never hear the end of it, Kala._ _ **Ever**_ _._ _Keep your snarky little mouth shut._ "It really did." Kala beamed; she was all but glowing, radiant with sunlight and good news.

"Good," Dick said, nodding as he stood. "Had me worried there for a minute. Anyway, since you seem to be feeling better, what do you think about a movie night tonight? I've got _The Matrix_ on Blu-Ray, and we could all use a good laugh or two. Maybe pop some popcorn and break out the soda, order a few pizzas?"

The idea sounded like music to Kala's ears. A low-key evening was just what the doctor ordered. "Sounds like a great plan," she said as she stood as well, seeing Dick to the door. "Let me know when, and I'll be down. I've got to swing by the Tower and say my farewells there, but I should be free tonight." Her heart ached thinking of all the goodbyes she had to say. This trip had started out as a bitter necessity, but now she was sorry to see it end.

"Will do," Dick smiled before heading out. "Eight o'clock or so?"

That was plenty of time to visit the Birds – she needed to text Babs first – and also try to get her head right. "Perfect. I'm just gonna hit the training room and work on some moves in the mean time."

As she closed the door on Dick's retreating form, Kala shook her head. It was sure to be an interesting evening, with that kind of cheesy flick and the bunch of them laughing their butts off at it. A grin firmly attaching itself to her face, Kala decided not to change yet again; these were clothes she could dance in. The moves she'd mentioned didn't necessarily have to be fighting ones. And she might as well start working the muscles she'd need for this tour.

To her surprise, she felt about a thousand percent better. Amazing how good news and a great plan could do that.

…

The Manor felt like home—and then again, it didn't. Jay roamed the halls like a ghost, staring at the art on the walls, running his fingers over the suits of armor, letting it all sink in. _Home_. He had woken up alone on the couch, the blanket carefully tucked around him, feeling as though one side was a tiny bit warmer than the other – the side that Kala's solar-powered body had been curled up on. Waking up alone was a bit of a letdown … but if she'd been by his side in those first few moments of wakefulness, where his whole nervous system kept insisting he was _safe_ despite being in someone else's space and guarded by security he hadn't personally set up, well, he might've said something stupid.

Like _Stay._

Nope, it was better that she'd tiptoed out at some point, probably waking with the sun and going to bask in it. That let him get his bearings when he woke, bemusedly realizing this place was starting to feel all welcoming and shit.

He couldn't get too complacent, however, and headed down to the training room. Jay worked out every day, in one form or another. Sparring, katas, free weights, target practice, always _something_ to keep his body and mind in peak fighting condition.

Only … he wasn't the first one there. Strains of music greeted him, and after another unexpected guest earlier in the week, Jay slowed down and went in warily.

What he found was Kala, decidedly _not_ practicing any of the moves he'd taught her. She was swaying to the beat of the song coming from her phone, the sound surprisingly sharp even from the little portable speakers. "I'm not the one who's so far away, when I feel the snakebite enter my veins," Kala sang softly, in time with the music.

Jay … just watched. He'd forgotten that her grace, her spatial awareness, came from dance. That _this_ was what she'd originally trained for, the same as Dick's acrobatics. Kala moved with a total awareness of her body that was, well, really fucking _hot_.

Apparently she was just warming up, taking it slow, gliding along the bass beat. But that sway in her hips and the arch in her spine and oh holy fuck the way she rolled a slow wave from her shoulders all the way down to the floor … maybe he shouldn't be watching this. The last thing he needed right now was to get caught creeping like a total perv.

Kala tossed her head and spun, rising up on her toes, hands above her head. Well, maybe he could hang out a moment longer. Especially when she shimmied like a snake, shoulders and belly and hips all moving in sensual circles. And the whole time she was still singing, soft but perfectly on key. Damn, no wonder she was famous. Of course what he was seeing was sexy as hell, but Jay knew it also represented a helluva lot of talent.

Right about then, Kala must've felt the weight of his gaze, because she stopped in mid-turn to stare at him. Saying nothing, just looking startled—because she hadn't expected anyone, or because it was him?

Jay felt a blush creeping up his neck. It would've been best to give her some kind of witty remark, something to make himself look like less of a stalker, but his brain couldn't function on that level at the moment. So he just slunk off, embarrassed.

…

It wasn't as if Kala had completely neglected her dance practice the entire time, but there just hadn't been time to do it daily as she did when she was home. Her plan was to see just what level of retraining she was going to have to do to be stage-ready within two weeks. True, she would be back to daily workouts and rehearsals, but it was best to start on her own before she had to do it under prying eyes. As far as everyone knew, her routine hadn't changed while she was here. She had to grin a little at that thought as she set up her portable speakers in the training room; their instructor, Taryn, would be floored if she had an idea of the things she had been learning instead.

In some ways her training over the summer had improved her form; in others, there was going to be some readjusting necessary. Cuing up her playlist, Kala closed her eyes and let her body feel the beat of the music. Once she could feel her body respond to it, feel the pulse in her blood, she began. Within moments of doing her routine warm-up stretches, she could tell that. However, there was nothing but good in that, despite the discomfort. Hers had always been a limber body; if luck was with her, this would go even farther to improve it.

She didn't even pay attention to the first two songs that played, too focused on getting into the groove again, repeating key moves. Maybe it was all the prep-work for sparring, but she was actually starting to enjoy this part of the workout. A calm before the storm. Kala grinned at the thought. Only here would that seem so perfect.

And then _Voodoo_ came on. Hearing it cue up, Kala couldn't help an impish grin. With a happy sound, she straightened, letting the beat carry her. Ordinarily, there was a set routine to each song, keeping the natural beat but making it more technical. This was one song she just couldn't find a way to tame. Every time they had ever done a cover of this song, the dance ended up different. There was just something about this one that got into her bloodstream, like a pulse. Her body responding immediately to the call, Kala closed her eyes and let the music carry her away, mirroring the singer's voice as she purred out the lyrics huskily.

Sway, sway, roll of back, shimmy, work the hips. Shadow-dancing that was as instinctive as breathing, graceful yet elaborate arm gestures. Feel the beat, ride it, give in to the sound and just flow with it. It killed something inside to know that there were people in the world who would never know the joy of this simple freedom. It was sometimes the one thing in her life that completely made sense, that gave her the same exhilaration as flying, and she reveled in it. It also, she realized in her fog, reminded her of sparring with Jay. That was, when she was up to par. The same smooth movement, avoiding the strikes, it was its own kind of dance. Not to mention, the same kind of exhilaration.

A little smile played over her lips then, having to acknowledge the way her blood quickened then. No one was here to see, no one could hear inside her head. Yeah, it was true. Jay called up something hot, wicked, and uncontrollable in her that was almost frightening at times. And he was far from controllable, always unexpected, a type of danger different from the too-real one back home, and a perfect opposite of everything in her life. There was something there, something between them that she was battling to resist. But she wasn't so sure she wanted to.

Tossing her head in time to the music, letting her body betray the slightest hint of her thoughts, Kala arched upward, slowly rolling her lower body to the drumbeat rhythm. Hands spiraling up above her head in a elegant, waving pattern. As always when she danced, Kala was keenly aware of her body, but then awoke to the fact that her senses were on full-alert. Something had changed in the room while she'd been distracted. That startled her out of her own head.

Stopping on the verge of a spin, the spell disturbed, Kala opened her eyes to see that she had a visitor. And it was enough to catch the breath in her throat. It was _Jay_ standing there in the doorway, very clearly watching her, and she had to swallow a shudder. Knowing what she'd been thinking just moments before, she felt like it was all written across her face. Neither spoke, only stood there staring for a moment, before Jay turned and walked out. It was only after he left that Kala realized that she had been holding her breath.

Jay was almost like a dare, so complex she just _had_ to understand, but volatile enough that he could explode in her hands if handled incorrectly. There was an attraction there, clearly, and she respected him at a level she'd never dreamed she could six weeks ago. She had just barely scratched the surface of who he was and the glints she had seen tempted her all the more. Something was happening here, something she couldn't make herself say, even in her own mind, but that didn't make it any less true. And time was running out. The question was, could she, or even _they_ , afford the cost if she went there when he wouldn't?

…

Babs had known all along when Kala would leave, but she hadn't wanted to insist on anything so cheesy as a _going-away party_. The young Super was caught up in the big bust that had just gone down, and probably hadn't even realized how short her time in Gotham had grown. It wasn't as if they'd never see her again, anyway.

When Kala texted her, asking to drop by for a quick visit before she left, Babs agreed casually … and by the time Kala arrived fifteen minutes later, Dinah and Helena were already on their way back with lunch. "I hope you like Thai food," Babs said.

"Love it," Kala told her brightly, "especially green curry chicken."

"I'm partial to basil chicken myself," Babs replied, and then just looked up at her.

She'd had years to get used to that, always looking up at people, even people who had once been shorter than her. Sometimes it worked to her advantage; most people tended to dismiss someone they physically _had_ to look down on, and Babs knew how to make the most of being underestimated. But Kala was meeting her eyes as levelly as possible, while biting her lower lip and glancing away every few seconds.

Deciding to have mercy, Babs told her, "I'm going to miss you, too."

"Well yeah, it goes without saying I'm gonna miss you," Kala laughed softly, and dragged up a spare office chair. Babs liked that about her – she tended not to hold on to the superior position, moving to equalize their heights. Once she was seated, backwards in the chair with her arms along its back, she fixed her troubled hazel gaze on Babs again, and let out a sigh. "Problem is, I'm starting to feel like I shouldn't leave. Like if I do, I'll leaving important parts of myself behind."

Arching an auburn brow, Babs replied, "There are important parts of you back in Metropolis, too. And at least one of them could fly out here to collect you."

As she hoped, that got a chuckle, Kala shoving her hair behind her ears absently. "Well, yeah. But I can fly too. And … Babs, this is what I always wanted. To be a hero, to be part of the legacy, to put on my mask and kick bad guys' butts – and save people's lives. It's everything I would've sold my soul for when I was sixteen."

The significance of that age wasn't lost on Babs. "It's also everything you walked away from and thought you could never have," she said.

That hit Kala like a piano dropped on her shoulders, and she leaned heavily on the chair. "Yeah. But it turns out I'm not the only colossal fuck-up out here, and with a few years' maturity and some training and some safeguards, I'm actually pretty good at this. I don't want to quit now."

"You have a big tour coming up," Babs reminded her. "Isn't that what you wanted from before you ever knew being a hero was a possibility? The lights, the stage, the music?"

Another soft laugh as Kala looked at her sadly. "Oh yeah, and I want that like fire. Maybe that makes me the selfish little princess certain people think I am, but I do. I want _both_. Is that wrong?"

She was asking seriously, and Babs – who confined her musical exploits to singing 'Happy Birthday', and who would never don a Bat-uniform again – considered it seriously. "No, it's not _wrong_ ," she finally said. "Selfish, maybe, but we all have to have a certain amount of selfishness just to survive. I don't think it's _too_ selfish to want both your dreams. Especially not when you've put the work into achieving both of them, and one of those dreams is pretty altruistic in itself."

Kala sighed in relief. "Well, then I feel spoiled for wanting to be a rockstar, too."

Babs scoffed. "You're not spoiled. It's not wrong to want something for _yourself_. I've worked with you, Kala. You give a lot of yourself, you're willing to risk a lot, so if anyone can be justified in lapping up the applause, you are."

"So I'm not just a dilettante who needs to fucking pick a dream and run with it already?" She was trying to make a joke, but there was a quaver in Kala's voice.

Rolling her eyes, Babs told her, "At least both of your dreams are things you had to work for. Bruce's alter ego is a billionaire playboy. I know a lot of people dream about having that kind of money, but you never said you wanted to be rich."

"Just famous," Kala admitted with a shrug. "Which I understand is why I get all the Goth Barbie bullshit – heroes aren't supposed to be motivated by fame."

"Well, yes," Babs conceded. "Your father is _Superman_. And you're a twin. No wonder you're so set on seeing your _own_ name up in lights."

Her eyes widened at that, and Babs knew she'd hit on something Kala herself wasn't quite aware of. Before she could work at that any more, though, security chimed and the front door downstairs opened. "The curried shrimp is _mine_ ," Dinah called up. "Anybody who touches it is risking life and limb. And hearing."

…

Kala couldn't help laughing. Chairwoman of the JLA Dinah might be, and quite solemn in that role, but here in Gotham she took every opportunity to bring some much-needed levity. "Okay, okay, no shellfish theft," she replied, hopping up to grab the bags of food and help Dinah and Helena set them out.

It was also extremely convenient that the food arrived right after that revelation. Everyone was right, Babs was the most perceptive person Kala had ever met, and she wasn't _quite_ used to those laser-focused deduction skills yet.

Almost everyone gave her a _look_ when they found out about her day job, if they didn't outright question it. Really, what kind of drama queen wanted to be a superhero _and_ a rock star? It was the most incredibly self-centered profession, and in most opinions it was _unworthy_ of a hero. And yet, Kala loved it, she justified it hotly to the ones who dared to ask. As for the people who just gave her that look, she had a couple of looks for them, too, some of which were best delivered while hovering ten feet over their heads.

The truth was, justified or not, she could no more have given up her music career than she could her legacy. Kala was in love with both, for different reasons.

And she couldn't think too deeply on it, with a convivial spread of delicious food and three good friends sharing it out. Babs, of course, couldn't resist pretending to steal some of Dinah's curried shrimp, and Helena rolled her eyes at both of them. Kala laughed at them, trying a bite of Helena's green papaya salad when offered, which turned out to be _very_ spicy but also very delicious. "Oh my God, this is the stuff Mom's always hoarding," Kala said, laughing. "She never let me try a taste. Then again, you snitch from Lois Lane's plate at your own peril. The only reason I never got stabbed with a chopstick is I'm her kid and she'd have to take me to the doctor."

Dinah turned to her curiously – which allowed Babs to successfully nab half a shrimp. "Must be interesting," Dinah mused. "I mean, we all know about your father, but your mom is _Lois Lane_. A name that even I, chairwoman of the Justice League, treat with cautious respect. And she's our official media liaision."

Kala sat back, chewing as an excuse to collect her thoughts. "Mom is … okay. She really is the heap-big-badass that everyone thinks she is. I grew up on the stories about her, and I lived through the creation of some of those stories. But she's also my _mom_. She's a complete disaster in the kitchen unless it's baking desserts. She'll admit, now, that she never wanted to be a mom and was totally unprepared for dealing with two of us, but I never saw that. Jase and I never knew we were completely unexpected. I mean, we knew our biological dad was out of the picture, but by the time we cared about that we had Daddy Richard."

Helena perked up a little, and before she could ask, Kala explained, "Mom used to be engaged to him, while Dad was off planet. He's Perry White's nephew and he worked for the _Daily Planet_ at the time. Mom wasn't really planning on settling down and being anyone's wife, ever, but Daddy Richard loved her and us. And with all the health issues we had as kids, it was a good thing she had some help with us."

"Health issues?" Dinah asked, her brow furrowing. "I thought super-immune systems would take care of that."

Kala shrugged. "It did, eventually, but remember: we're hybrids. Our bodies were trying to figure out how to match up DNA from two different galaxies, and at first, it wasn't going so well. We both had lots of allergies and some weird food cravings that were probably because we need different nutrients."

"It's hard to think of _you_ as fragile," Helena said, arching a dark brow.

She smirked. "Try imagining my giant-ass truck of a brother as fragile, then. He was a weedy little thing, back in the day. Now he's all Farmer Kent in plaid flannel and jeans."

Her description occasioned laughter, which wasn't a good thing when consuming spicy food. Babs ended up coughing, her eyes watering, and she finally managed to say, "The next time I call him over the comm, I'm going to call him Brother Trucker. Just for you."

That set Dinah off into wheezing gales of laughter. "Oh God, I wanna hear that one," she finally chortled. "He'll know _exactly_ where it came from."

"I call him Lizardboy, because he wanted to be Godzilla growing up," Kala replied, smirking.

"And he calls you Elvira," Babs reminded her. "Or Mothra."

"I do fly around and rain on his parade," she snickered.

"Speaking of absent friends," Babs said, after the amusement wound down, "I heard from Doc Leslie today. She's planning to hand over the clinic to local interests, and head home."

"Really?" Dinah said, arching an eyebrow. "Well then, Alfred will be delighted."

"We'll have to make arrangements to get him some time off," Babs said.

"Assuming he would even agree to take it," Helena chuckled.

Babs smiled. "He can occasionally be convinced that Bruce that take care of himself for more than a few hours at a time. Usually when Leslie's the one doing the convincing."

Kala had perked up her ears from the first. She knew Dr. Leslie Thompkins was the personal physician of the Bats and Birds, but the way everyone spoke of her, she was _also_ apparently romantically attached to Alfred. Which was intriguing, though less so than the one other fact Kala knew about her. "Isn't Steph with her?" she asked. "Does this mean she's coming home, too?"

The excited, playful expressions on everyone's faces became somber. Kala supposed all of them felt some guilt for Black Mask's brutal treatment of Steph, and for her leaving the city. It was Babs who answered her. "She was. Steph … she made a truly impressive recovery, but she'll always have some problems associated with her injuries. So she decided to work with Doc Leslie instead of coming back to the caped life. Cass Cain had met up with them a few months ago, and she was helping them both out with the clinic Leslie established in the refugee camp in South Sudan."

"No one ever told me why she chose Africa," Kala said.

"She went where the need was greatest," Dinah supplied. "About a quarter of all the refugees in the _world_ are in Africa. And there are camps in Tanzania, Kenya, and Ethiopia as well as South Sudan. There's been so much external exploitation and internal civil war in that part of the world, it's hard for people in America to even begin to understand."

Babs nodded. "From what Leslie told me, they've been having problems lately. More refugees coming in from the north, and tensions within the camp too. There's a lot of uncertainty. Some of the oldest camps in Kenya are trying to shut down, because of concerns about potential terrorist activity."

Kala raised a brow. "Terrorist activity? Among _refugees_? That sounds like political maneuvering to me."

"The camps _are_ a strong recruiting ground," Babs said. "Conditions are bad – not quite as bad as what they're fleeing, but from the reports I've been getting, I can see why people would be angry. And there's always someone willing to take that anger and shape it for their own use."

Dinah had been picking at her food, and looked up with a steely glare. "Fuck my life. Is it who I think it is? Wasn't he in northern Africa, not that long ago?"

"We don't know if it's Ra's al Ghul," Babs replied, not reacting to her partner's vehemence. "Cass seemed to think so, Leslie says. At least, that it was some branch of the League of Shadows. Since his last death and resurrection and that business with Nyssa Raatko, there have been factions within the organization, sometimes fighting each other."

Kala had only ever heard whispers about this before, Jay's explanation about Talia aside, so she kept her mouth shut and her ears open as Babs continued.

"Cass and Steph had been teaching the women self-defense techniques, helping make the camp safer for everyone. Something happened, Leslie doesn't know what exactly, and the pair of them packed up one night and headed north. Steph left a note; apparently they were going to deal with the source of the problem."

Dinah rapped her chopsticks thoughtfully. "Cass feels like it's her business because of her mother. Wasn't Lady Shiva running one of those factions for a while? Damn, I don't like Steph in the middle of that."

"Neither do I," Babs replied, the words obviously heartfelt. "But she's a bit like you, Songbird, in that she can't watch her friends run headlong into trouble and _not_ go along to protect them."

Helena scoffed at little at both of them. "I doubt Cassandra Cain needs any protection. She is the very definition of competence."

"Oh, I don't mean _physical_ protection," Babs replied. "I'd bet on Cass against almost anyone in the League of Shadows, but there _are_ a handful of people who are on her level. Both her parents, for example. Or Talia al Ghul, whom Kala recently had the pleasure of meeting."

"Yeah, it was a thrill watching the boys lose their shit entirely," Kala said drolly.

Babs rolled her eyes. "They overreact. Dick, especially. He hates her, because he tried to make Bruce choose between him and her, and Bruce chose Talia."

"Which proves the Bat is a much a man as anyone else, and prone to making the same mistakes," Helena pointed out.

Shrugging, Babs continued, "Let's not even get into the fact that Talia is only a year or two older than Dick, and what _that_ says about Bruce. Talia is many things, and trustworthy isn't one of them, but she would never let lasting harm come to any of them if she could prevent it. For Bruce's sake, if for no other reason. The difference is that her idea of preventing harm would likely mean murdering whoever tried to hurt the boys. Likewise, she knows who Cass is and what she can do, both before _and_ after Cass made the choice to trade her intrinsic skill for the ability to communicate. If Cass went after her, Talia wouldn't go toe-to-toe in a fight she _might_ lose. She's too practical for that. Talia would just take a sniper rifle and put her down from half a mile away."

The redhead's voice had gone steely at those words, and Dinah stepped in. "Yeah, but by your assessment, Talia wouldn't kill her because Bruce does love Cass, too."

Babs smiled coldly. "Who said anything about killing? A bullet through the leg would put her down and be survivable. And Talia's used to taking those kinds of risks."

"Steph doesn't need to be anywhere near her," Kala said staunchly. The overwhelming impression she was getting of Talia al Ghul was a kind of ruthlessness for which she had no tolerance.

Nodding, Babs continued, "No, she doesn't. But Steph's not going after to Cass to fight her battles. She's worried about Cass deciding to _join_ her mother. And that's the kind of battle Steph will always win. She's got more soul than anyone else still in this game."

"Amen to that," Dinah said heartily. "If anyone can stay sane in the world we live in, and not give up hope, it's Steph. I love that kid."

"With luck, she and Cass will sort things out quickly," Babs said. "If it's some local political situation, Cass has the sense to leave it alone. If it's the League … I hope it's not the League. But it's hard to get good intel from halfway across the world, particularly when there are a lot of low-tech operations there that rely on face-to-face contact for orders. It's much easier in the European, Russian, and East Asian theaters, where you can hack your way into whatever you need."

"The Yakuza still do a lot of things offline," Dinah pointed out.

Babs rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine. The point stands. We can't reliably get people into the League of Shadows for on-the-ground intel. There's such a strong cult of personality going on there that plants tend to be discovered or worse, converted. Lex Luthor has the same issue, incidentally. Kala, I monitor his activities as well – he's gone off the grid somewhere but he has to interact with L-Tech – and he's tried to keep tabs on them."

Helena frowned. "You make it sound as if the League of Shadows is invincible."

"Not invincible," Dinah replied. "Damned difficult to breach. I know all about that cult of personality thing; Ra's al Ghul is extremely charismatic in person. He's had seven centuries to figure out how to get people to follow him, and he's gotten really good at it by now. They have their weaknesses – he was never able to subvert Bruce, and he _personally_ trained Bruce – but the unfortunate truth is that sometimes the bad guys are as good at their jobs as we are at ours."

"Wait, wait, wait," Kala said, sitting back in surprise. "I heard about him training Bruce. I didn't know _you_ knew him, too."

Babs grinned toothily, and Dinah elbowed her. "Let's not go there," she said. "And let's not borrow too much trouble. If it _is_ the League that Cass and Steph are going up against, one of them will have the sense to let us know about it, and we can pull an extraction if nothing else. Shit, _I'd_ go; I'm not going to fall for their save-the-world shtick."

"In the meantime, we can be grateful that the League of Shadows is an exception to the rule that our enemies don't play well with others," Babs said dryly. "There _is_ an Injustice Society, and I think every one of our Gotham rogues has a membership card, but they just don't tend to work as cohesively as we do. Even when we have to send people from different teams, the JLA and the Titans and all of our side can at least _function_ together. People like Ra's al Ghul and Lex Luthor are too determined to be the sole authority, and too willing to backstab each other, to ever _really_ form an alliance."

"Well, yeah," Kala said cautiously. "We can all work together because we're not in this for ourselves, we're all trying to _protect_ people, not take over the world or cause chaos or whatever else. We're the good guys."

"Even though none of the present company are guys," Dinah added.

Helena just smiled. "Or perhaps it's just that we have Oracle, and she won't let any of us get too far from the path of righteousness."

"You make me sound like Jiminy Cricket on wheels," Babs complained, and _that_ mental image sent them off into gales of laughter, a merry sound to banish the somber thought of their enemies organizing.

Kala shook her head as she got herself back under control. "Jiminy Cricket on wheels. Oh my God, I can't even. I'm gonna miss all of you so much."

"So come back," Dinah said with a grin. "You can fly. Sneak out of the tour bus, pick up dinner on your way, we'll have girls' night any time we can. You know you're welcome here. And up at the Manor – Alfred likes you, I hear."

With a crooked smile, Kala looked back at Babs. "It's completely insane. But yeah, I think this is what I want to do. Babs, can you put me on the reserves list? I'll keep my comm handy. If I'm free, I'll head over here; if you need me, call."

The smile that Babs rewarded her with was absolutely sunny. "I'll be happy to," she replied, still beaming.

Dinah sat back and smirked at them. "And if we get Cass and Steph back here at some point, we'll _really_ shake this town up. The boys won't know what hit them."

"In Kala's case, literally, since she can fly faster than they can see," Helena said with a smile.

It _was_ crazy, to take on another responsibility, but Kala couldn't walk away from the caped life now. So she basked in the joy of knowing that, once things on tour got halfway settled, she could come _back._


	35. Halfway Gone

**Authors' Note:** We went out of town Saturday for coauthor Lois' early birthday present. Annnnd forgot to include that in our posting plans. So here is the next chapter, and we will post Holding On and Letting Go on Tuesday as planned.

…

The only good thing about action movies was mocking them. With the news that they were getting a night off from patrol, and Dickie-Bird's brilliant suggestion to make it movie night, Jay settled in to the whole acting-like-a-family experience. There was no point trying to get away; Kala was going to be there, and she'd hold it against him if he left.

Then again, he'd spent a few hours that morning holding _her_ against him. And then seeing her dance—wow. Which he really couldn't contemplate while they were all sprawled all over and around the couch. Dick had taken one corner, Kala had sat down next to him, and Jay had quickly taken the other end of the couch. With those images of Kala in his mind, he really didn't want her _too_ close to Dick.

Kala smirked at that, while Jay tried not to notice the thin little sundress she wore. He quickly found things to distract himself, like Kala stealing his popcorn with goddamn super-speed. He could've forgiven that, but she was also taking bites of his pizza whenever he looked away from the plate. "What the hell?" he snapped, staring at her as Kala smiled beatifically at him. "You've got your own food!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said sweetly, and the next time he looked down there was a big chunk of crust missing from his pizza slice.

"You missed that memo, Jay," Tim cut in from his own seat, a chair all to himself. "Her brother warned us all that Kala got the Lane woman food-theft gene. Nothing is safe. And for such a dainty little thing, she eats like a _horse_."

Kala lifted her chin and looked imperiously at him. "I beg your pardon, Mister Drake? I really have no idea where this is coming from." That time Jay felt the breeze, and Tim yelped to discover his soda empty.

"Kryptonian metabolism?" Dick chuckled.

"That, and my mom's metabolism," Kala said, grinning. "It all goes straight to producing the fantastic amounts of awesomeness that Mom and I are known for."

Tim faked a retch, and Jay noticed even Bruce smiling.

The movie itself was a smorgasbord of mockery. The very first scene, with Trinity's slow-motion not-quite-hover kick, got Jay laughing. He elbowed Kala's side lightly. "Did you see this when you were like six, K? Is _that_ why you love those jump-kicks so much?"

"Bite me. You're the one who set me up with a catsuit so I'd be all Gleaming Leather Badass just like Trinity. _Now_ who saw this movie in their formative years?" She stuck her tongue out to general amusement.

"Actually it looks less Trinity and more Selene. _Underworld_ , much?" Dick asked, raising an eyebrow at Jay.

Tim burst into cackles. "Dressing up a Goth rockstar as a bloodsucker. How ironic."

"Oh, great. Now I have to keep explaining that I'm an alien, not a vampire," Kala sighed. She glanced back at the screen and added, "Oh, and now we're running across rooftops. I wonder if the Wachowskis ever spent time in Gotham?"

"Yeah, we don't hit the opposite roof with our guts," Jay said, sneering at the one cop who didn't jump far enough. They all laughed at Trinity defying physics—"Hey, look, it's you again, K!"—as she _flew_ across empty space and broke in a window.

"Oh, _now_ I get why we're watching _The Matrix_. It's 'Troll Kala Night' at the Manor," she said, smirking.

Keanu Reeves' acting abilities were called into question, as he appeared to only have two facial expressions: vague befuddlement, and equally vague terror. Kala ventured the opinion that he might be an android. A few minutes later, Neo's freak-out on the ledge got chuckles from all the boys, any of whom could've _waltzed_ in that space.

The combat training scene immediately reminded Jay of sparring with Kala. Except she laughed more when she was soaring through the air and throwing him into walls. She leaned over, her hair tickling his cheek, and murmured, "Is this giving you flashbacks?"

"Kinda," he admitted. "I'm Morpheus and you're Neo, though."

"Eww! I have way more facial expressions than Neo. And I look better kicking ass than he does. Besides, by the end I was totally The One." She had also looked at lot more the worse for wear during their early sparring sessions, and Jay remembered that with an odd little twist in his stomach. The last time, though, when she'd been at full power … and their rooftop run to break in her suit against all three Bat-boys…

When Neo inevitably fell trying to fly, Tim turned to Kala and asked, "Isn't that how you learned to fly?"

"Minus the face-plant, yeah, kinda," she laughed right back. "Dad was flying us both, and I let go. Scared the hell out of him and Jase 'til I swooped back up. Although, I _did_ break my arm when I was seven, trying to jump off a swing and fly."

The big rescue scene was when everyone turned on Jay. When Neo deadpanned, 'Guns. Lots of guns,' Dick just turned around and smiled broadly.

"Oh look, it's Jay packing for a vacation," Kala snarked.

"No, 'cause I wouldn't pack like five pairs of guns," Jay shot back. "Two pairs, and lots of _clips_. He could be reloading while he's hiding behind the pillars instead of having to jump out and take one of the guards' guns off the floor."

"I can't believe you've thought of this," Tim said, eyeing him askance.

Jay rolled his eyes at him, and then pointed out another discrepancy. "Okay, look. He's got a big-ass chain gun with like eight barrels and he's shooting the _shit_ out of the room Morpheus is in. Obviously he can't aim the fucking thing, he's having to walk his shots to hit Agent Smith. So how the hell does he miraculously not shoot Morpheus in the process?"

"Because he's The One," Dick said. "He bends bullets with his _mind_."

"No, that's _Wanted_ ," Kala said. "James McAvoy was bending the bullet's path with the power of Angelina Jolie's cleavage." Jay snorted laughter and Dick actually brayed.

Once Morpheus and Neo were swinging on the end of a cargo line beneath a shot-up helicopter that Trinity was trying to control, all of the boys did various impressions of Tarzan yells. "Don't smack them into the buildings, oh shit, don't smack them into the buildings," Kala chanted as Trinity fought the cyclic and tried to keep them in the air. With the hydraulics blown, of course, it was a losing battle.

"Oh God, he's being a hero," Dick groaned, as Neo wrapped the line around his forearm. "I am The One! Watch me hold up this helicopter with the strength of my mildly-concussed expression!"

"He must be eating like six pizzas an _hour_ to be that awesome," Jay muttered. Kala bopped his shoulder, and he shoved his half-eaten pizza slice at her face. "Quick! Eat more pizza! We need you to catch the helicopter, Neo!"

"Well if dipshit Trinity would quit fucking around and grab the damn line," she complained, but Jay noticed his pizza was minus another bite when she shoved it away. "C'mon, Trin, you can't fly a helicopter with no hydraulics, just get your skinny ass out of that seat and grab the damn line already!"

"And she shoots the line just in time!" Jay taunted. "Now it's too bad she's still fucking _falling_ and she's gonna hit the windows hard enough to crack them."

Kala scoffed. "Yeah, and that exploding helicopter would totally crispy-fry her if they were being realistic. Fortunately, in the Matrix the fireball stops _juuuust_ short of toasting the hero's love interest."

"Love interest? Boning interest, at best," Jay shot back.

Kala wrinkled her nose. "Oh, please. He'd cut himself on her hipbones. Besides, the romance subplot is so underdeveloped here. She whispers in his ear in a club, then she sucks a shrimp-bug-thing out of his navel, and she brings him dinner later after he got his ass kicked. Oh yeah, that's a basis for a relationship."

"He probably got into the whole electroshock thing," Jay opined.

"It's an action movie. Switch dies, so obviously the hero gets the remaining female character," Tim said.

"Yeah, and I hate that. Why doesn't anyone ever write a movie where the female character grows a brain, kicks the hero's ass, and takes over?"

"Because men statistically spend more money on movies and memorabilia," Bruce spoke up dryly. "And the film industry is essentially a numbers game, trying to get the maximum profit from each movie produced."

Kala did a dramatic double take, amazed that Bruce had spoken. "Well, I guess I'll have to settle for doing it in real life then," she replied. All three boys laughed with her.

As Neo fought with Agent Smith—which Tim referred to as 'the boss battle'—Jay and Dick complained about the fighting style. "Look how _stylized_ it is. Obviously none of those blows are landing with any force. It just looks pretty. Especially the posing with the damn dust rising off him," Dick scoffed.

Jay rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and why is Neo so damn fast and strong, but when friggin' Elrond drags his dusty ass over to the tracks he just lays there? C'mon, it's only five or six broken ribs. You're getting whipped by a goddamn _elf_ , dude."

All of them shouted, "My _name_ is _NEO_ _!_ " together, but only Kala broke into song as he soared up to smash Agent Smith against the ceiling. "I believe I can flyyyyy…."

"Now he runs," Tim said. "Don't look around, you know he's there, just freakin' run already. Run, Neo, run!"

Dick deadpanned, "Here come the squiddies." The scene cut back to Neo stealing some random guy's phone.

"See, the guy there is more freaked out by losing his phone than Neo is by three agents chasing him," Kala pointed out. "His 'what the shit' line is more emotive than Keanu's whole performance."

"He runs like a muppet on crack," Jay said, raising both arms and waving them around. "I have no facial expressions! I must communicate my terror to the audience! I will flail all my limbs while I run!"

"And he doesn't know his left from his right, either," Dick laughed.

"Agent Smith! He's everywhere!" Kala shouted as the old lady turned into the agent and flung a knife.

"And now we have the action movie classic shot, the slow-motion leap into the garbage," Tim said. "Which is basically the plot synopsis of the next two movies."

"Aw, but Monica Bellucci was in them. That's reason enough to watch." Kala grinned.

The scene cut back to the ship, and Dick sighed loudly. "Mechanical death squid _always_ show up when you're really busy not getting your savior killed. They're like telemarketers. And they never bring chips, either."

Tim chuckled. "And Trinity and Morpheus sound _so concerned_ about the freaking certain death right outside the ship. ' _Oh, no._ ' ' _Here they come._ ' Even I would be freaking out. Seriously, did they get acting tips from Neo? Or did they think their _characters_ read the script and know they won't die?"

Kala rolled her eyes at the screen. She hopped up and began to play air-violin, muttering, "Threatening strings for the squiddies! All bad shit arrives to the sound of a violinist who just snorted some Adderall!" Jay wheezed, trying to get some air.

Snickering to herself, she started to drop back down next to Dick, only to discover that he had put his feet up in her spot and almost into Jay's lap. Jay just shoved at his sneakers irritably, not making too much trouble over Dick's claiming of turf. She stood there for a moment, arms crossed and pouting at him, Dick chuckling at her and Jay with a little shrug of his shoulders as if to indicate 'you snooze, you lose'. Then rolled her eyes as she sailed over and dropped herself on the arm of the couch next to Jay, sticking her tongue out at him.

As Neo fled up a fire escape, Jay added, "I hate when the bad guys can't shoot. I mean really, these are _agents_ , they should know how to shoot. And a target above you on a fire escape, it's not _that_ hard. He should have at _least_ three bullets in his ass by the time he gets to the room."

They came to the climactic scene where Neo got shot. All of them groaned aloud. "Right there he looks _exactly_ the same as half of the rest of the movie," Tim complained. "Any screenshot from this film could be captioned, 'What?' or 'Oh crap.' Literally any screenshot."

"Have you seen _The Day the Earth Stood Still_? Emotionless anti-human alien. _Perfect_ role for him." Kala snickered.

"Oh, and here," Jay bitched. "Look, first bullet does absolutely nothing. He just blinks. Second bullet throws him across the hallway. What the fuck, was that some extra-hot handload or something?"

"Not to mention, the sentinels are _inside_ the ship this whole time," Tim commented. "Neo's whole death and revival and agent destruction all happens while the sentinels are just wandering around the ship like … like old ladies in a grocery store who can't decide what they want. 'Oh, should we kill these people, or just let the hero do his thing so we can get killed in the nick of time?' 'Gee, what do you think, Myrtle?'"

" _Myrtle?!_ " Jay wheezed. "That ugly-ass spider-octopus with scorpion legs, you think it looks like a _Myrtle_? Damn, you're screwed up."

"Meanwhile Morpheus is so depressed he's just gonna let the squiddies eat the ship," Dick said. "Oh noes, Neo's dead, life isn't worth living anymore. Will to live, fading."

Jay snorted. "Meanwhile Tank's like, 'Hey dude, I didn't like him _that_ much, can we please go now? Morpheus? Hello? Lasers, man, they've got lasers.'"

"Oh God, here it comes," Kala groaned. "Trinity's not afraid anymore, guys. This is a proud moment, she's conquered her fear of intimacy just in time to get some necrophiliac action. Oh my God, I can't watch."

All of them staring at the screen with distaste, and Tim just couldn't take it anymore. He slid off his chair toward the couch, grabbing Dick's shirt as he went. Shaking the fabric, he shouted in his most melodramatic voice, "You can't be dead! You can't be! _Because I loooooove you!_ You hear me? _I LOVE YOU!_ "

"Please don't kiss me," Dick pleaded, leaning back as far as he could.

Kala lost it then; she'd been chortling at Tim's reinterpretation, but that was the final straw. Laughing so hard she could barely breathe, she fell off the arm of the couch, directly into Jay's lap.

Jay looked down at her, thoroughly startled and hoping she would quit squirming with laughter. Meanwhile she pointed at the screen and managed to wheeze, "Kiss of life! He comes back from the dead once you let him know he can tap that! _Kiss of liiiiiife_!"

This was going to get really uncomfortable in a moment, with Kala lying across his lap on her side, her body vibrating with laughter. Yeah, no, not a good idea. "Get off, K. Personal space much?" he said gruffly, catching her by the hips and maneuvering her back up onto the arm of the couch.

She glared at him haughtily. "Personal space? Where was personal space when we were kicking the crap out of each other in your training room, huh?"

"That was training, and you graduated. I'm not your landing pad, flygirl." She kept giving him that imperious look, and for a second Jay thought she might bring up that last training session, when they'd gotten _very_ personal indeed. So to distract her, he added, "Besides, your elbow almost landed on my nuts. So watch it, okay?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Kala said haughtily, as Dick and Tim laughed out loud. The movie's ending, with Neo discovering his awesomeness and killing Agent Smith, went un-mocked as they taunted Jay instead.

That was fine with him. He needed all the distraction he could get from the warm, live weight of her sprawled across him, the loose and trusting way her body had moved while she laughed. Snarking back and forth with the boys helped some. Tim's prissy scowl could ice down anyone's libido.

"Who's up for the sequel?" Dick asked as he pulled the DVD out and put it back in its case. Jay managed not to smirk; he'd almost been _up_ for more than a sequel. And he really needed to quit thinking about it unless he wanted to embarrass himself.

"Monica Bellucci, and the chateau, and the creepy albino twins. I'm in," Kala declared.

"Freeway chase. I'll watch it for that," Jay chimed in.

"And on that note, children, I'm turning in," Bruce said. "Don't forget you have a plane to catch tomorrow, Kala."

She managed not to roll her eyes. "I won't, Uncle Bruce. Besides, I'm kind of used to late nights and early mornings, now."

Tim sighed. "Let's watch it, then. I'll make more popcorn." No sooner than the words left his mouth, Alfred arrived with a fresh bowl. "Perfect timing!" they all chorused, and Alfred merely smiled.

…

They'd lost Tim halfway through _Matrix Reloaded_ , and by the end Dick was nodding. He excused himself as soon as the movie was over, heading for bed. All of them were exhausted that night, but Jay and Kala actually debated watching _Revolutions_ before succumbing to better sense. Morning would come all too soon for both of them.

Heading upstairs, Jay fell slightly behind Kala, admiring the sway in her step. The feel of the curve of her hip under his hand had never left his mind, and now other ideas were starting to creep in. Shaking himself, he forced those thoughts down in a vain attempt to refocus on other things, but no matter how he tried, there she was, sprawled across his lap, tucked in against his side, prone on the training mats beneath him … steadily climbing the stairs just in front of him. Holy fuck, it was a view worth framing and hanging in the Louvre. He practically wanted to take a bite out of—

"Enjoying the view, much?"

Startled, Jay lifted his gaze to meet the look Kala was throwing over her shoulder at him, all knowing and shit, and for a moment, he felt like a deer in headlights. But then his senses returned, and he smirked up at her, taking a chance. "Not the worst view in the world. I'd take it over Nightwing's ass, anyway."

A brief flash of a smirk over her shoulder at him, one of her dark brows arched as they hit the third-floor landing. So she was in the mood still for a little cat and mouse. Jay caught up with her then, and he couldn't resist crowding into her space just a little, looming.

She didn't take the bait, though, and turned it right back on him, crossing her arms over her chest. The corner of her lip curled up in an impish grin. "Oh _really?_ Dick doesn't do it for you? I'm surprised."

"Didn't say that, Princess. Let's just say that my hero exception list isn't laminated yet."

That got just the response he wanted, Kala giving a soft chuckle as she shook her head at him. "Uh-huh. Really? I take this to mean I should be flattered by that distinction, huh?"

Allowing himself a wry grin, Jay nodded. "Oh yes. And you should be thanking me, besides; you'll notice I didn't make one single comment about your trenchcoat tonight. You, Neo, and Trinity could've been triplets."

"Yes, well, thank you for your self-restraint, Mister Hood," Kala shot back cheekily, punching him lightly in the shoulder. "When I get home, I'll be sure to send out a card for helping me maintain my dignity."

For some unfathomable reason, that remark cut Jay wide open. _When she gets home. …_ It was enough to make him want to roar and go off and sulk. Kala would be gone by tomorrow afternoon.

"Yeah, well, I'll be sure to write back," he managed to quip, forcing himself to keep up his cool facade. "'Dearest Princess, I'm counting the days since we parted, the endless monotony only interrupted by the cries of the wounded and the stench of bodies and gunpowder. Only my hope that we will one day be reunited keeps me alive and sane amongst the insanity of this damn'd war,'" he said mockingly, drawing on the image of a Civil War soldier writing to his beloved with highly educated tones. "'Yours forever, William Blatherington.'"

The eruption of a startled laugh from Kala told Jay that he'd hit the mark, and only her hand clamped over her mouth stopped her from being loud enough to wake the whole household. Again. Her shoulders shook as she forced it quiet, and suddenly she was leaning against him from the force of her laughter, her forehead buried in his shoulder. If he'd had any wonder that Kala was tired, this proved it without a doubt. She stayed there twitching as she fought her way through a round of snickers, one hand on his opposite shoulder for balance.

"Oh my God, Jay, you're certifiable," she wheezed, finally lifting her face to his, her eyes shining in the low light. "You are seriously crazy. And I'm nuts for hanging around you."

Dammit, how did it seem like they kept winding up like this, everything he wasn't supposed to want right under his nose, with her cackling and grinning and joking around and landing on him somehow, eyes all huge like an anime girl? He got that she was fairly touchy, well, Dick-level snuggly if he was honest, and yeah, she was over-tired and in a good mood from all the wise-cracks tonight. But every time she got this close to him—when she wasn't whaling on him, that was—it sent a little shock straight down his spine.

"Not exactly news," he said quietly, not quite moving to set her properly on her feet yet. Surprising or not, having her all up on him _was_ very nice. "I've had a lot of practice with this bunch of yahoos. And dressing up like creatures of the night is a pretty big qualifier for all of us."

"Point," Kala agreed then, getting her feet under her and leaning more-or-less sideways against him, her chin lifted now. One eyebrow lifted, the look curious as well as teasing. "So, you gonna miss me, Professor Badass?"

For a moment, Jay's throat tried to close up on him, but he blew out a breath and shrugged with one shoulder. "I think that was the general idea I was trying to convey."

And holy fuck, if there was any better time to make a move, he didn't know what it'd be. Kala was right here, warm and soft, and probably likely not to haul off and punch his face in if he kissed her. _Don't blow it, dumbass, don't blow it!_ he chastised himself. Her lips were right _there…_

Kala's eyes went even wider, and the look in them was nothing he could comprehend. The space between them narrowed a bit, one or the other leaning in just a little more. For a second it almost seemed as though _she_ might kiss _him_. For an instant, the air almost crackled. The weight of portent made him tense; if he kissed her now, if she kissed him now, then God only knew what would happen next … and Jay didn't exactly believe in God, these days. Too much rode on that tiny space between them, too much could go wrong or way too right, and he didn't know which way to jump. Every relationship he'd ever been in, Jay had learned _not_ to trust when things felt this right. It always meant the rug was about to get yanked out from under him any second now.

There was a moment, so close he could feel her breath; those hazel eyes of hers had to have seen something there because she gave a tiny smile, briefly regretful, before stepping back. Only the scent of her perfume lingered ghost-like when she moved out of his space.

So close. Dammit.

Yeah, something had scared her off. The balance was off now, Kala being uncharacteristically fidgety. Running a hand through her loose hair, she tucked a long lock behind one ear silently. Her gaze felt almost deliberately distant when she finally looked at him again. It was hard to tell in the dark, but her color looked a little higher. Like she might be blushing. Fuck, what had scared her off? He resisted the urge to reach out and feel how warm her skin was. "Yeah," she said quietly. "Gonna be impossible not to miss all of you, too."

 _All of you. That'll tell you everything you need to know. Good going, Jay._ He forced a smile that felt like rictus looked. "If you miss us _that_ much, your aim needs work," he joked feebly.

"Jerk. I mean, you've all grown on me, what else can I say? Like fungus. Really _rare_ fungus." A slight lift of her shoulders and she shook her head. That little smile again, mysterious and sad, making him want to understand what was going on in her head. "It's been one hell of a long, hot summer."

"It has," Jay forced out. _Not long enough._

Her reply echoed his thought. "But not long enough, I think. It never is in situations like this."

That lapsed them into momentary silence, both lost in their own thoughts, neither quite looking at the other. Finally, it was Kala who broke it. When he couldn't force himself to speak, she just gave that soft little laugh again, ducking away from both him and the wall. Yep, he'd blown it. "Well, on that note, it's late and I'm babbling. I'd better head to bed." And with a little twirl of her sundress, she turned with a parting flash of smile. "Night, Red. See you in the morning." Then she disappeared down the short distance of hallway and into her room, the door shutting silently behind her.

Feeling suddenly adrift, Jay dropped his face into one palm, reveling in the sting of the slap. Jesus fuck, he was an idiot. A complete, utter, idiot. Never mind that feeling that he was gonna fuck up everything, he should've just kissed her already.

Turning to head to his own room—his cold, empty room—he just knew he wasn't getting any sleep tonight. And tomorrow would be hell.

 _That's it,_ he resolved as he stripped and hit the bathroom before falling out, _I'm joining a monastery. Or buying a liquor store. Whichever._

…

' _Gonna miss me?' Oh, yeah, you're brilliant, Kal. What did you expect him to do?_

In the back of her mind, several lines of thought had been going on since the afternoon. The time here at the Manor, in Gotham, was ticking down to mere hours. And any chance of understanding what could or could not be happening between she and Jay was fading away.

He'd given her the perfect excuse to go there at last, and she had let it slip away because she could just _feel_ the anxiety in him. The worst part was knowing just what she'd felt flash through her mind when he'd cornered her on the landing. The tension had almost boiled over for her then, regardless of how calmly she'd played it off. And she'd blown it, too nervous to have read him wrong, and left him there on the darkened stairs.

It made her feel like an idiot to think it, but why did it feel so wrong to be alone in this room? Kala rolled her eyes; yeah, she _was_ an idiot. It was better this way; the last thing she and Jay needed was her acting like a love-sick teenager and throwing herself at him right before she boarded a plane. Great way to make a final impression on someone. Especially when emotions had run high and your hormones had clearly gone insane.

That didn't stop her from opening the door a crack and glancing out. The anticipation, the hope that maybe he was still out there, charged her blood. In the most practical way of seeing things, he drove her crazy. The man she had spent her summer puzzling out was someone she'd found herself intrigued by, someone who made her laugh harder than Sebast did, and then there was the tension. The endless fucking tension. There were times when she was around Jay that she found herself breathless, intimidation being the last thing she felt. But Alan had taught her volumes about acting only on attraction and in her heart of hearts, Kala knew that she was still trying to run from Sebast. She wasn't even sure what the hell Jay thought about this little dance they'd been doing, other than he might be as aware of the interest as she was.

Acting on it would be idiocy, even if her lips had been burning earlier. She had wanted that kiss like nothing else.

And in the end, the deep introspection was all for naught. Jay wasn't there, obviously already having gone in his room. Kala sighed with both disappointment and relief, closing the door before smacking her forehead into it. _Well, as if that wasn't like a sixteen-year-old hot for her crush. If you were going to act like a grown-up about this, you would have had the guts to just kiss him. If he hadn't reacted well, that would have been the end of it. You could have played it off as a counter-troll just to see his face._ _And God knows that you're too much of a Super to go over and knock on his door, take a chance under Uncle Bruce's roof. Kiss that chance goodbye, babe. It's over. Deal with it._

Kala shook herself, silencing the scolding voice. Maybe it was better this way. No irreparable damage could come of doing nothing about it. Especially if she was the only one who had let emotions get in the way. Her stomach was sick at the thought while she shed her sundress and forced herself into the shower, turning the spray up to full power and standing in the blast. What the hell had she been thinking, traitor thoughts still urging her across the hall.

She was vapor-locked, at cross-purposes with herself, lost in her own head. The need to run from what she suspected in herself, the urge to stay and see where this could go. The last wasn't an option. It had _never_ been an option. Jay had never been a part of the plan; it was supposed to be a summer to become someone else, become someone she needed to be. And she had found that in training with the lost Wayne, whom she hadn't even known was in the city. In all ways, he had come out of nowhere and plowed like a tempest into her life. And had left the accompanying debris.

Tomorrow was going to be hell and she knew it. Kala had never meant to get everything so tangled and yet…

Goddammit, how had Jay gotten so far under her skin?


	36. Holding On and Letting Go

**Author's Note:** This is coauthor Anissa writing this particular note. Today, December 11th, is coauthor Lois' birthday. We posted an extra chapter over the weekend just so we could post this particular one today. I hope you'll see why.

Allow me to wax lyrical for just a moment. Lois is my partner as well as my coauthor. She has been my friend since August of 1994, when as a freshman in a magnet school full of intimidatingly talented strangers, I walked into the acting class I had to take for the writing program and stood frozen, trying to pick a seat. She saw me, a short nervous blonde, and caught my attention with a smile. "Come sit with me," she said, and I did, to my great relief.

I followed her to our next class, which was writing, and sat near her there. She was – and is – absolutely stunning, tall and classically beautiful with hazel eyes and long wavy dark hair. I hadn't yet realized _why_ my heart did flipflops at the sight of her, but I knew I couldn't just fade into the background like I always did. Desperate for a reason to talk to her and not terribly good at socializing with other students, I hit upon the best pickup line in history: "Hey, can I base a character on you in the book I'm writing?"

I was fourteen years old then, and that book _still_ isn't finished. But the friendship begun by her kind question and my geeky question, went on to become the relationship that has been my source of strength and joy for eighteen years now. Lois challenges me to be my best self, to explore new things and travel to new places, to write new stories in new fandoms. She is my friend, my partner, and my love, forever and always.

Please wish her a happy birthday, if you like. And now I'll hush and let the story – which exists because of her love of Superman and my love of her and our mutual love of complicated characters – continue.

* * *

Today was the day of Miss Kala's departure, and Alfred pulled out all the stops for her final breakfast. He suspected she would be back – and if Master Bruce had any complaints about that, he would be made to rethink that position – but it might take some time for her to work visits into her busy schedule. Alfred wished to give her as much incentive as possible to return soon, and continue returning frequently.

She likely did not realize how unusual it was for all of them to be under the same roof. Master Timothy lived at home, of course, but he sometimes took his meals in his room – a practice he had foregone during Miss Kala's stay. Master Richard, of course, had returned home for the summer despite more typically living in his own apartment in Blüdhaven. And most astonishingly, Master Jason had willingly remained under their roof, even when no longer suffering from blood loss and exhaustion.

Kala was the catalyst for all of that, plus Master Bruce's own more mellow demeanor, by the simple virtue of being a relative outsider. She was someone they could trust, someone who already knew all of their dual identities, but not someone who had taken a side in every single conflict of the past decade. They could allow bygones to be bygones, and retell only the amusing anecdotes.

Like any good catalyst, Kala was unchanged by her role. She was simply herself, amiable and affectionate. Had she been only friendly, she would have done enough…

… but if these children thought their flirtations escaped Alfred Pennyworth, they were greater fools than even he suspected.

Interestingly, he had not foreseen Master Jason and Miss Kala being attracted to one another. His romances, if one could call them that, had been rather short-lived to date. And he had so far not been in any hurry to begin another – like very few men, he seemed to understand that a personal life full of chaos was not a good foundation on which to build a relationship. (Would that Master Bruce learn that lesson!)

Miss Kala, meanwhile, had rather forcefully insisted that she was taking a summer sabbatical from love, and Alfred believed she'd truly meant to focus solely on training. However, she could not conceal her interest in Master Jason.

They would compliment one another rather well, Alfred thought. She had no fear of his anger, and little tolerance for his denials. He was not too overawed by her, and did not make the mistake of underestimating her. Perhaps, with a little time, the spark of attraction between them might blossom.

It would be good to have at least one functional relationship in the family, although with Dr. Thompkins on her way back from South Sudan, Alfred now had hopes of providing the children with something of a template for a mutually-supportive romance.

…

No one could've claimed that breakfast on Kala's last morning in the Manor was a jubilant occasion, despite Alfred's best efforts. There were so many sullen faces Dick's skin itched with the need to liven things up. His own face was hurting from the frown he couldn't seem to lose, and that was just unacceptable.

Watching Kala slowly eating her pancakes—nothing less than Alfred's best for Kala's last meal here—while Jay just pushed a forkful of his own around in the syrup on his plate, neither of them even glancing at the other while conversation around the table went on dully, he couldn't stand it any longer.

"Well, this counts as one of the most depressing breakfasts I think we've ever had," he declared, pushing his own just-emptied plate away and sitting back in his chair, forcing a half-smile onto his face. "Nobody died. Kala's just going home. It isn't the end of the world."

The sound of his voice seemed to break the spell a bit. Kala beamed at him, laughing. "I doubt that all of this is just for my sake. More likely no one slept well. I keep seeing Trinity's hipbones in my nightmares."

Low murmurs of agreement rose up from the others, Bruce nodding and glancing at the pair that seemed to be suffering the worst. It was entirely too obvious just why they were so down, of course. Jay had barely even acknowledged the attempt at levity, still focused on his plate.

Kala was trying, as usual, to play it off as if he couldn't see the way she bit her lip. Another laugh then, the tiniest smirk. "Oh, come on. Like you guys haven't been dreaming of this all summer. No more girl-cooties on everything, no girly-tea scent in the Batcave. Tim can stop being horrified by my mere presence." The two of them shared a mocking look before she grinned at Dick himself. "Maybe the death-threats from _your_ girlfriends can stop. Jay can finally get his side-kick out from underfoot. And Uncle Bruce can sleep for a week, knowing I'm someone else's headache now." She cast a small smile at him, knowing he knew the jibe for teasing.

But even teasing, they could see that she was torn. Kala wasn't too thrilled that the day was finally here, either. "I just feel awful for leaving poor Alfred alone with you heathens again." Her smile was absolutely warm when she turned to look at the older man. It was clear that the affection was returned. "They really don't know how good they have it, Alfred."

"You will be sorely missed, Miss Kala," Alfred said as he scrubbed a dish in the sink. "You've been a true spot of sunshine in a dreary household." With that, he cast a glance around at the boys, and even Dick felt a little embarrassed. There was no doubt that things had livened up considerably since Kala had come for the summer. And the side-effect of getting Jay back into the house had certainly kept them all on their toes.

"Thanks, Alfred," Kala smiled back over her shoulder, and to the rest of them, she gave a smirk. "Well, I've got to head out in the next two hours to get there on time, so I have to start making plans. I was going to just take a cab, like I said the other day, but a certain someone immediately vetoed that plan earlier." Another glance back at the older man, and Alfred nodded in agreement. She gave them all a little embarrassed smile, "So … is there any chance of pleading a ride from one of you guys? I hate to be a pain, but…"

This seemed like the perfect opportunity for a last-ditch effort at getting Jay to make his move. Dick had tried everything short of locking them in an elevator, or just handcuffing them together. By now he would've managed to at least kiss anyone who set his head spinning the way Kala did to Jay. So seeing his chance, he piped up, "Jay, why don't you drive Kala to the airport? I'd go, but it wouldn't be fair, since I picked her up in the first place."

Tim took that moment to add, "I've got some things to do in town today, too. Besides, it's not like I can ever get away from her. Wherever Jason is, she shows up. So I'll probably see her in the next week. I can't get rid of her." The pair of them smirked at each other. It was true enough, though it surprised him to have Tim weigh in on it. The youngest Bat wasn't a huge fan of Jay, period, but perhaps even he had a shred a pity for the enormous torch Jay was carrying for Kala.

And even Bruce put in, "I've got a board meeting at eleven, anyway. Bound to last all afternoon." Now _that_ was a shock, though he was probably just thinking the same thing as Tim. Jay didn't have a chance, long-term, but at least let him make his play and get shot down so he'd quit moping around like an abandoned puppy.

Jay and Kala looked at them all like they had three heads each then, their mouths gaping like fish out of water, before trading baffled looks with each other. It was absolutely hilarious, and Dick couldn't stop the barking laugh that escaped him, his hand coming up to cover his mouth. "Sorry, sorry," he murmured in apology. "You two are so freakin' cute, and you know it. Just, take her to the airport, Jay. It'll give you a chance to have that last 'training debriefing'," he added with a little eyebrow wiggle.

Across the table, Jay's expression of shock turned into a glower. Dick knew he'd said entirely too much in full view of everyone, Kala especially, but really? Who _didn't_ know at this point? Surely Kala herself had a clue, or why had she given him that look last night when he'd pushed her over into Jay's space?

"You're a real bastard, Dickie-Bird," Jay muttered, turning his attention back to his pancakes. "Yeah, yeah, I'll take her to the airport." To Kala, he murmured, "Better finish getting packed, Supergirl. Her Highness's matched luggage won't load itself, and you've only got another hour or so."

"Um, yeah, thanks for volunteering to help, Jay," Kala murmured back, her own focus back on her breakfast. "It won't take long. I'll meet you in the hall around noon." Cutting Jay a look, she polished off the pancakes in seconds—crazy super-speed, if Dick wasn't in love with flight he'd've coveted that power—before excusing herself from the kitchen to go finish getting her things together. On her way out, she paused to kiss Alfred on the cheek and thank him for breakfast. Dick had the feeling she'd come down to have a proper goodbye with him once the other men of the house cleared out. Kala seemed to have become just as attached to the butler as the rest of the household.

After she'd gone, Bruce taking the opportunity to excuse himself as well, Jay threw Dick another glare. "The hell is wrong with you, anyway?"

"You telling me that you _don't_ want to be the one to see her off? Come on, even _you_ can see the advantage of being the last face of the Bats that she sees before heading back to her rock star life."

"Yeah," Tim cut in then, "this way she'll have nightmares for sure."

Dick couldn't help a full-on laugh as Jay's fork flew across the table, only missing Tim's head by an inch as their younger brother shifted out of the way. Even if Kala was leaving, it was damn good to have Jay back in the house; Dick hadn't had so much fun in a long time.

…

Kala was halfway through emptying out the chest-of-drawers that would no longer be 'hers' when the finality of what this day would bring hit her. Jeans in hand, she caught herself worrying her lower lip. The fever-pitch of action the last few days had dulled those reminders that her time here was almost over.

By mid-evening tonight, she'd be back in her own city, all of the luggage now on her bed strewn across the carpet in her and Sebast's bedroom, half of the contents she was currently folding as tightly as she could in said baggage in the washing machine, the other half sent to the cleaners. She and all the boys would likely be at her parents', along with Lizardboy and Dr. Sexy. She'd likely be eating delivery stromboli and half a white pizza from Moon River two blocks down from Mom and Dad's apartment because it would be her first night back in months. She'd be slapping at Sebast, who would be stealing half of her food just out of spite, Daddy Richard egging him on and Lana admonishing them both.

By this time tomorrow, she'd have three days to decide what she'd be taking with them on the tour; the next seven months of her life packed, again, into four suitcases. Back to the full-time mercy of the label. The bus would have to be checked over one last time, from soup to nuts. So much fine-tuning; the last of the costume-fittings, the final flurry of promotional interviews, the studio time to make sure they were all still up to par. Not to mention, in the absence of Marlene, there would be meetings with the new tour manager. And rumor had it that he was the exact opposite of what they were accustomed to.

Somewhere in there, there would be time with her parents and with her twin brother, whom she had missed almost as horribly as she had Sebast.

And in a week, it would finally happen. She and Sebast would be opening their very first sold-out concert in a major West Coast venue. They had finally made it, after all the tiny little gigs in smoky clubs and bars and crappy pay and promising Morgan, Robb, and Ned that they were going _somewhere_ , and then two years of working their asses off to make good on the chance they'd been given. For the first time ever, she'd stand under the blinding stage lights and look Sebast in the eye and know they were really, finally there, top of the charts and top-billed in every city. The dream – that _everyone_ had smiled so knowingly and pitied her for, believing it was forever out of reach – would finally start to come true.

She sighed then, dropping her weight down on the bed and tossing the jeans aside. Everything she was feeling right now was perfectly idiotic. Back in Metropolis lay the chance to be what she had wanted to be since she was just a little girl, what she had fought so hard for. Her entire life, her whole … _everything_ was there. It was time to go back to the real world.

This summer had been a chance to step away from that life, to prove to herself that she could make it in a life without Sebast and all the current complications that had arisen from their closeness, to set the caped community's mind at ease over her level of experience, to maybe discover who she could have been in a life that allowed her to be the heir that she given up to give Jason the chance. And, with the Bats' help, the Birds' help, with _Jay's_ help, Kala had discovered that that girl was alive and well under the glitter and eyeliner. Regardless of what she chose to do with her life, she was capable of continuing her father's legacy and to hell with the naysayers.

The goal she'd set for herself was accomplished. Jay had seen to that, she thought with a rueful grin, remembering the events of the last month with a snicker that she'd never have considered possible four weeks ago. The boys and Uncle Bruce had put her through the ringer, but Jay… There had been days in the beginning when she didn't think she'd make it through his idea of training. But done it she had. With cuts and bruises and aches of every possible kind, but he had been right. She'd come out of it all the stronger, able to do so much more than she ever had before.

Just thinking of Jay started that ache up in her chest again. Of course she was back to that again. Jay. Always Jay lately. Running circles and circles of puzzlement in her mind, everything making its way back to the goddamn Red Hood. She wasn't sure just how much she wanted to poke a stick at that particular enigma. Something had happened there, something that neither of them had put words to, and she had the feeling that they wouldn't, if left to it. On her end, it was confusing and complicated and left her entirely out-of-sorts. Like she was doing something wrong just packing her bags now.

Which sounded entirely too Romeo-and-Juliet-esque for the pair of them. Like something out of one of those stupid Young Adult romances that teenage girls ate up with a side of cotton candy and unicorns.

And that wasn't real life. It wasn't how it worked. You didn't leave one hopelessly complex and blurred relationship, only to come to Gotham and get wrapped up in the wrong kind of infatuation with someone who didn't even believe in that kind of crap. It was foolish in the extreme to even consider it. Chewing at her lower lip anxiously again, Kala made herself shove the thoughts right back to the corner they'd been lurking in and sat up. It had been a wonderful summer and she'd met some of the most incredible people she'd ever known, all of which taught her more about herself than she ever could've suspected. She probably owed Babs at least the cost of two or three counseling sessions, come to think of it.

It was best to leave it at that. She owed Jay so much, too, and she wouldn't ruin whatever this was that they'd found in each other by trying to explain it. Who knew? Maybe this way, she might just see him with Tim and Dick. Thinking back on what she'd found herself wanting, thinking about how badly she'd wanted to kiss him last night in the hallway, thinking about how many times she'd wanted to speak up, was useless. Neither she nor Jay were in the market for anything even approaching the fluff-ball cutesy shit that had been floating through her mind these past couple of weeks.

With that, she forced herself back up and to her packing with a glance at the clock. The time was past to even go there. Her time in Gotham was nearly over. Better to enjoy the moments she had left.

It would be better for them both.

…

Alfred was cleaning up after the breakfast – which had not gone entirely according to plan, but Master Richard's intervention had salvaged it – when the door opened behind him. No door in his domain would do anything so vulgar as _squeak,_ though he felt the air movement and turned, his face composed as ever.

Kala stood there, biting her lip. "I never got that peanut butter cookie recipe," she said quietly.

She looked so painfully _young_ to him, wide-eyed and shy, trying to find words that should have been simple. _I like you. I'll miss you._ What curse did he live under, that he was surrounded by people who were more out-of-tune with their emotions than the stiffest upper lip?

"I'm afraid I haven't written it down," Alfred told her gently. "Which means, of course, you must return at some point, and I shall happily make a batch of them with you."

For a second, her eyes misted, but then her sunny grin broke through, and she covered the distance between them to hug him. Alfred returned it, patting her hair gently. Kala murmured against his shoulder, "And everyone knows who the _real_ head of household is here. If you say I'm welcome, I'll definitely come by."

"Master Bruce would never be so foolish as to bar you entry," Alfred corrected her softly. "He does know your mother, Miss Kala. If you tried to imply you were unwelcome, you might take up residence. In any case, you are _most_ welcome, any time you are able to join us."

She grinned, and hugged him harder. "Thank you. It's good to have an ally."

"I was under the impression you had rather more than allies in this house," Alfred chided. And when she looked up at him, startled, he clarified, "Master Tim and Master Richard are your friends, of course."

"Of course," Kala said, smiling, relaxing a little.

And then he continued, as dryly as only he could, "Master Jason, of course, you would like to be rather more than a friend. If circumstances on both your parts allow."

Kala blinked, leaning back, and then laughed. "Well, can't say I'm surprised that _you_ were the one who finally called me on it."

He had not forgotten what it was to be young, although he liked to think he had been much less dramatic than any of his charges, Master Bruce included. "I should hope that I know those I consider my family well enough to spot such things," he told her, smiling.

And she beamed, at being included in his definition of family. "Do me a favor, then? Keep an eye on Jay for me? You are his favorite, after all."

Oh, he meant to. Master Jason needed a watchful eye even more than Bruce, and Alfred was perfectly aware that he was the only person in the extended family whom the boy trusted without reservation. That trust had been painstakingly built, and Alfred would not squander it. "I shall, Miss Kala. And I am honored that he holds me in such high regard."

"We all do," Kala said, with one more hug.

Jay called from out in the hallway, "K, you ready yet? At this rate you're gonna have to fly your ass to the airport. We'll mail your stuff."

Rolling her eyes, she stepped back from Alfred and replied, "Yes, jerk, on my way. Just saying goodbye to the only person here who deserves it."

He simply nodded to her, and held the door. She had to go, and they _all_ knew it, but Alfred was the only one who smiled as she left.

He was quite certain she'd be back within the month.

…

As the Charger purred steadily toward the airport, Jay watched the signs telling him how his time with Kala was growing shorter and shorter. Just nineteen more miles on the bypass around Gotham, ten miles, five miles … next exit. They'd made the drive in silence; with as much as he had to say, he had no fucking idea how to frame the words. He'd probably sound like a goddamn idiotic fanboy if he _did_ open his mouth. The stereo system was tuned to a decent station, but Jay couldn't remember a single song that had played during the drive. It was all just white noise. Kala, meanwhile, had been leaned back in her seat, staring out the window most of the time. Lost in thought, he guessed, from the expression on her face the couple of times he could see it reflected against the glass.

She had spoken just once on the trip. "Well, you're almost finally rid of me," Kala said, in a voice that was trying to joke.

"Yeah, been trying to run you off all summer," Jay murmured back, and his tone sounded flat and miserable even to him. He could see corner of her lip curl up, but she didn't even glance at him.

Turning off the exit into the lanes for the airport, Jay thought about just pulling up to Departing Flights and letting Kala out, doing the gentlemanly thing and getting her suitcase out of the trunk for her. But that felt cold, like he was her chauffeur. He didn't know what, exactly, he was to Kala, anyway. Trainer, colleague, confidant—she'd fallen asleep on his shoulder the night before last, her hair smelling faintly of candy, looking about ten years younger than she was—maybe friend, too, but he wasn't too conversant with friendship these days. Beating the shit out of a bad guys, now _that_ he could do, but all this mushy feel-good stuff wasn't his style.

"I'll walk you in," Jay said instead, pulling into the short-term garage and parking quickly. Kala raised an eyebrow, somehow surprised from the way her eyes momentarily widened, but gave him subdued thanks and a brief smile.

Only once he was hefting her suitcase out of the trunk did she actually try to make conversation. She'd been biting her lower lip since she got out of the car, now she was crossing her arms as they headed into the terminal. He thought he saw a brief look of distress flicker over her face, there and gone, when they walked through the automatic doors. But then she smiled and gave a little laugh. "What a summer, right?"

Jay paused to look at her. "Yeah, yeah it was." Just over a month ago, he'd really wanted to drive this girl out of Gotham, chase her back to her bright shiny world before she got herself killed. Word on the street had been that she was just dabbling in the hero gig, more interested in rock star fame than in her father's legacy. She was supposed to be vain, shallow, arrogant, and hot-tempered.

 _One out of four is actually pretty good, for Titans' gossip,_ Jay mused. The young woman he'd gotten to know was hot-tempered, but also brave, tenacious, and surprisingly unselfish. She _was_ vulnerable, but not in the way he'd expected. Kala could fight with the best of them, she was too stubborn to back down from anything, and yet she'd let _him_ of all people see her upset and unsure of herself.

And here he was about to pack her off to go home with just a goodbye. It didn't sit right with him, but what could he do? Ask her to stay? Kala wasn't part of his world. She was a freakin' _rock star_ , she belonged to lights and the stage, and when she _did_ run with the capes, Kala was a Super, not a Bat, fashion sense notwithstanding. She had no reason to stick around here, no reason to come back, either.

All those things flickered through Jay's mind, and none of them made sense. Why the hell had Dickie-Bird encouraged _him_ to drive her out here? He could've been sound asleep in his apartment, or even his room at the Manor, right now. It might've taken a whole fifth of scotch to _get_ to sleep, but that was nothing new.

Meanwhile Kala kept pace beside him, quiet and collected. He knew her body language well enough by now to read the tension in the length of her stride, but she was controlling it, keeping her emotions locked down—Jay could tell that by the way she held her purse. It was frustrating to know that much, and still have no idea what was actually going on in her head. He'd give an arm and a leg—someone else's, of course—for a peek into her mind.

But he wasn't going to get one, it seemed. They stood in line to check in her bag, and Jay kept up his blasé front while Kala gave the clerk a professional smile, even her tone of speech changing. Rock star Kala, the Supers' Kala, coming back to the fore now. Then they were off to the concourse, and he could follow her up to the security checkpoint before she had to split off, heading on to the gate on her own.

Shit, he should've kissed her last night, when he'd had the chance. She'd told him a little too much a couple days ago, admitted her fears, and they'd both been just a little too careful since then, thanks to Daddy Bats' intrusion and revelations. But last night, watching that ridiculous movie with the whole gang in front of Bruce's giant plasma TV, there'd been a moment where the bad guy went down in poetic justice, and Kala and Jay had yelled triumphantly in unison. She'd looked at him, hazel eyes bright, her mouth curved up in a grin, and for a second he'd almost kissed her.

Kala had seen it in his eyes, he was certain, because her look had changed from joy to surprise, and he'd laughed the moment off. But fuck it, he should've just kissed her, put up with the hooting and hollering from his asshole brothers. Or he should've kissed her in the hallway when the moment had seemed so fraught, both of them hesitating; he should've just closed the little distance and kissed her already. Dick was right, he wasn't going to be level-headed again until he did something about the rampant attraction between them. And if she'd slapped his face in the hall, maybe Timmy wouldn't be able to harass him with it for months.

Then again, what disturbed Jay the most, robbing him of his equilibrium and common sense, was the idea that she _wouldn't_ have slapped him. The thought that maybe kissing her in the hallway between their two rooms wasn't his brightest idea, especially on the night before she left. A part of him suspected it might've gone a lot further than a kiss if he'd done that with both of their beds so close at hand. After all, they'd been pretty fucking close that day in the training room, before Babs had cockblocked him.

And then what? Supergirl was nobody's one night stand, especially not Red Hood's. He'd like to make it more than that, but how was he supposed to, when they lived in such different worlds? Jay was right back around to the total lack of a future for them, and he _still_ hadn't said more than a few words to her this whole morning.

By now they'd come to a stop just outside security, grouchy passengers lining up to be scanned. Luckily Kala had a frequent-flyer pass and could go through the fast line. The big departures board overhead listed her flight to Metropolis as being on time, and she needed to go. "Well, I guess this is it," Jay said, knowing how lame it was. Jesus fuck, he had a smartass remark for _everything_ , why the hell was he so tongue-tied now?

"Yeah, I guess it is," Kala said, but she didn't step away. He'd never known her to be this subdued, this quiet, like she'd grown shy in these last minutes of her time here.

For a long moment they just looked at each other, and Jay began to wonder if she wasn't just as discombobulated as he was. Kala was the first to glance away, looking down at her watch. He could almost feel her trying to pull away from everything she'd seen, done, and felt while here in Gotham, her expression closing down so obviously that he could practically see her disconnecting her ties. "Well, shit. I've got about ten minutes to get to the gate before they board," Kala muttered with eyes still averted. Jay glanced at the sign overhead; no delays, and she could probably hear the crew setting up the plane. "I … I'd better go."

"Yeah, you kinda have to," Jay replied. _I wish you didn't have to, wish you could stay. How about it, Supergirl? Walk away from your real life, walk away from this great big tour you have coming, walk away from your family, and just stay here with me? Just_ _ **stay**_ _. Yeah, right._

Another long, awkward pause. If Dick had brought her here, he'd hug her, or she'd hug him, but Jay wasn't a ridiculous cuddler. He _wanted_ to hug her, but he was pretty sure he wouldn't let her go if he did.

Another beat passed before Kala nodded silently. If Jay wasn't mistaken, disappointment flashed across her face, but she didn't voice it. Instead, she glanced down the concourse toward her gate and took a deep breath. Finally she met his gaze again, a distance already seeming to grow there. "Goodbye, Jay," Kala said in a tiny voice that just made those three syllables even more inadequate.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders like an awkward teenager, his inner thirteen-year-old throwing an epic temper tantrum. "Bye, Kala."

One more hesitation, her eyes searching his, and then she sighed and started to turn away. He might be seeing things, but could have sworn there was sadness in her hazel eyes when she gave him a ghost of smile. "Bye," she whispered again, and she reached out to trail her fingers over his cheek, just the briefest brush. And then she was moving past him, taking the first step back into her world and out of his. Almost gone.

 _Fuck, are you_ _ **really**_ _gonna let her leave like_ _ **that**_ _?_ The strident voice in the back of Jay's head linked straight into his instincts, and he was moving before he even thought about what he was doing.

Grabbing Kala's elbow, he spun her around abruptly, the motion happening easier than he'd imagined it could. Her loose hair swung through the air when she came face to face with him again. Eyes wide and shocked, she was obviously trying to gauge his thoughts while she looked up at him, but she didn't pull away, her hand braced against his chest to stop herself from crashing into him. Her lips were slightly parted, perhaps on the verge of asking him what the hell he was doing.

But he didn't give her the chance, wrapping his free arm around her waist and pulling her tight against him. He heard more than saw her gasp, and then he was kissing her. Without hesitation, without thinking, without worrying about the consequences or what it'd mean tomorrow, or even five minutes from now.

And there was no shoving away, no angry slap, no horrified protestations. Much to his amazement, there was only a instant's startled pause before Kala gave as good as she got, on tiptoe to get even closer. There was no uncertainty in her movements. And then there was the hungry little whimper, muffled against his mouth. All hesitancy was gone now, that was obvious enough. She tangled one hand in his hair, her fingers gripping almost painfully tight, keeping him right there where she wanted him.

Jesus fuck, what a kiss. Hard and hot and hungry, he could feel her teeth behind her lips, and then the kiss deepened and her tongue was sliding across his. His hand on the small of her back held her tight, and he let the other hand slide into her long wavy hair, just as he'd wanted to do for the last month. The realization that she wanted this, too, that she was just as eager for him as he was for her, that it hadn't just been high spirits the other day, crashed through him in mingled shock and relief. This was _Kala_ , Big Blue's daughter, kissing him like she wanted to curl up in his arms and never leave.

And people around them were stopping to stare, they were breaking up the flow of traffic, his too well-honed instincts were aware of that even if his higher brain function was offline. At least he didn't startle when a smattering of applause started up from a few romantics in the crowd.

 _Stay with me?_

But she had to leave, she _had_ to. Jay couldn't keep her and he knew it. Not even a kiss like this could erase the simple fact that she wasn't, and never would be, his. And her flight was boarding _right now_. If he held her back a moment longer … but oh, her mouth was so sweet, her hips were pressed tight against his … and if he didn't let her go he was going to take her back to the Charger and do his best to convince her to _never_ leave. Wrecking the back seat in the process, more than likely.

Reluctantly, Jay forced himself to pull away from her, both of them left panting, blown away by the sheer intensity of the kiss. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes ablaze as she looked up at him, her hair rumpled all to hell, her lips glossy and tasting faintly of vanilla—the way Kala was looking at him, she just might've said yes to the backseat of the Charger. But they couldn't, they just _couldn't._ It'd ruin her reputation and career and everything. Plus, no way was he gonna have a first time between them in the backseat of any car short of the Wayne family limo, and even that wasn't good enough for her.

"You gotta go, K," Jay whispered hoarsely.

Still dazed, Kala looked a little hurt at that, but then reality started to part the fog. It took a minute before she saw the sense in it and nodded slowly. "Yeah, I … I hafta leave." She couldn't turn away, though, her hesitation showing in the hushed way she murmured the words.

He had to. He _had_ to be the one to walk away. One more caress of her cheek, one more second with her, and then Jay turned on his heel and walked off, ignoring the voice inside him screaming not to go. Ignoring, too, the curious eyes of the crowd, any of whom he could've cheerfully beaten to a pulp just for witnessing that moment of triumph and heartbreak.

Kala must've gotten her brain back online, because he heard behind him, her tone both exasperated and torn. "Goddammit. Why _now_? Shit, your timing _sucks_ , Red."

But when he turned around, the girl had disappeared from the crowded room. And his life.

…

Finally settled into her seat on the plane—a window seat, as it turned out—Kala was worrying at her lower lip with her teeth again as she watched the airport slowly pass by outside, the plane taxiing to the runway sooner than she'd expected.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ she chastised herself, the kiss replaying in her mind over and over again. Why now? Why on earth had he waited until now to do that? And why hadn't she just sucked up her stupid pride and insecurities and kissed _him_ before now? Like, the night before? Or after the mission that'd taken down Black Mask? Or even before that, on the night they'd come so close to tearing down the wall of semi-professionalism that they'd worked so hard to keep solid, falling together right there on the training mats? Why _now?_

It didn't make sense. If he had been thinking it, too, why couldn't they have just done this _weeks_ ago? They could have gotten it out of their systems; could've taken the chance and not waited until the moment she had to leave and go back to her regular life and her day job and the busload of ridiculously hormonal, whiny boys that wouldn't give her a moment's peace? They should've worked this insane attraction out and been done with it, none of this guessing and second-guessing. They should have put words to some of it, any of it. But no, of course not. Her _fabulous_ track record with relationships had left her gun-shy, and if even half of what his brothers had said was true, Jay was just as paranoid. They were both a whole lot better at breaking heads than, you know, admitting to feelings. So _of course_ they'd just let it build up and simmer until everything just exploded.

Leaving her, and probably him, in little pieces scattered all over the emotional landscape, and with nothing much she could do to regain her composure.

In that moment, Kala wanted nothing more than to throttle him within an inch of his life, wipe that familiar smirk right off his face, stop hearing the tone of his voice when he'd walked away, and—

Her eyes were burning, closed tight against the surge of complex feelings hammering down of her. No. Too much of this bullshit hiding. What she really wanted was one more goddamn minute. One more hour. One more day. Hell, while she was being greedy, a month. _Anything._ Leave it like this; it was running away. Again. Pretending that everything was okay, that _she_ was okay, as she ran away from Gotham this time. Another relationship with a pre-determined expiration date; only this time, she had held back when it had been a mistake. She hadn't even tried. And now she regretted it.

God, what had she gotten herself into, anyway? With everything that waited for her back on the tour—Sebast, and dammit, she did miss him like she missed the sunlight—she just couldn't get Jason fucking Todd, the Big Bad Red Hood, out of her mind. Or out of her heart. It just wasn't that easy.

Who could've even predicted it, anyway? Gotham was supposed to be a quick and dirty summer training retreat, a way to earn a little more respect in the cape and cowl community. It wasn't supposed to leave her with yet more emotional _baggage._

Blowing out a breath, Kala looked out at the airport again, just as the plane passed by the observation gallery. Hope leaped up from her chest into her throat that Jay might have gone up to the gallery to watch her take off, to give a last wave. It was stupid, idiotic to even think it possible, yet her eyes swept the crowd almost frantically. She found herself searching the crowd pressed against the large windows for his face, his damn leather jacket, his black hair, anything. But—

But he wasn't there. At all. There was no sign of him, not even a flash of his blue eyes staring out at her. And then the plane was past the gallery, taxiing on down the runway on its final approach before takeoff.

Kala's heart seized up in her chest. She just couldn't believe that he'd pull that on her. Kiss her and then just walk away. Like it wouldn't change anything at all. God, didn't that make her the biggest dupe in the world.

A deep breath, and she schooled her expression, sat up straight and turned her gaze forward, focusing on the flight attendant as he gave his spiel about the oxygen masks and the exits. She couldn't let Jay get to her like this. Couldn't let him reduce her to wibbling and tears just because he was a goddamn coward.

Dammit, this trip wasn't supposed to end this way. She was supposed to fly back to her family and her boys— _her_ boys, not the Bats, as much as they were family, they _weren't_ her family—and pick up her life exactly where she'd left it. The summer was over and it was back to reality. A reality that didn't involve the Bats or Gotham or anything in it. She'd come if she was invited and if time allowed. But she wasn't the girl who had jetted out here in May. She was a grown-ass woman, capable of things not even she could have dreamed, that didn't need to—

Shit, nothing made sense.

In her purse at her feet, Kala's cell phone buzzed. Dammit, she'd forgotten to turn it off. Reaching quickly down into her bag, she drew it out, and glanced at the screen. Her stomach sank even as her heart fluttered.

It was Jay.

A quick look up at the sign at the front of the cabin told her that it was past time to turn off all electronics. She just couldn't risk it.

 _Shit!_

Pressing the button to turn off the phone, she shut her eyes and slumped back in her seat. His call would just have to go to voicemail. How appropriate, that now they'd finally gotten their act together, and it was too late to have an actual conversation. What else could possibly go wrong today?

Then it hit her. Or rather, hit her eardrums. They hadn't yet left the tarmac and he couldn't have been much further than the parking garage in the time that had passed. With that thought in mind, Kala couldn't help focusing on the sound of Jay's voice as he left his message, her hearing zeroing in on him of its own accord.

" _Hey, K,"_ he started, sounding like a little lost kid, wavering and unsure of himself. _"Um. I just wanted to say 'bye' again. I guess you're beyond the point of no return, so I'll make it quick. I know I've got the worst timing on the planet, but … I just couldn't let you walk off without getting in the last word. Or something. So … good luck on tour, and all that. And give me a call if you're ever back in Gotham. Gonna miss ya. Bye, I guess. Later, Princess."_

And then he was gone, the call cutting off with a sharp little beep.

It was like a sudden sucker-punch.

Goddamn him for dropping this in her lap now.

Kala wanted to curse and scream and smack him, a tantrum brewing deep in her chest, but she just couldn't. Jay was gone. He was an idiot and a coward, something she never thought she'd think of him, and it was over. It was too late to stop any of this.

God, she wanted to tear out her own hair in sheer frustration. How could she possibly go back to her regular life like this?

As her chin started to quiver despite her resolve, Kala clamped her jaw shut. It was too late to do anything more than go home and forget this summer had ever happened. Blowing a breath out her nostrils, she gripped the arm rests with tense fingers, and blinked away the wetness in her eyes that she just couldn't stop as the plane roared to life and took to the sky, leaving Gotham, and Jay, behind her.

* * *

No, that's not the end, you guys! The fic isn't marked 'completed'. We're evil, but not *that* evil! 😉


	37. Interludes

**Kala**

The only part of the flight from Gotham that Kala remembered later was deplaning, everything that happened after she'd overheard Jay grayed out. At some point, she'd rested her head against the rim of the window and stared out at the view mindlessly. Just the endless passage of the cloud banks, miles and miles of white fluffiness and the almost brutal yearning to be out there amongst them. The cabin of the 737 felt so confining in her current state, stifled and mixed-up and fighting leaky tear ducts and a stone in her stomach. All she wanted right then was to simply open the emergency door and free-fall, the wind rushing past her face until she was nearly visible to whatever town was below them, then veer sideways at full power and disappear in a sonic boom. To fly at insane speeds until she could turn all of this around in her mind, take it apart and really look at it when she could breathe. Until she could make sense of everything she was feeling.

Trapped.

She was trapped like a rat.

And she only had an hour's flight to sort it out.

Everything in Gotham had happened so fast, no matter how it had felt at the time, each day one long trudge of morning to night. It made her think of driving in and out of endless tunnels, light to dark, at top speed on a motorcycle, with only occasional side-trips. Another pang hit her as the bike reference made her think again of Jay. Fuck, why did she get the feeling she wasn't going to be able to look at one for a long, long time without aching?

Forcing his face out of her mind, she made herself keep processing her thoughts. If she was honest with herself, the adrenaline junkie in her loved it. Looking back on her summer, the cuts and bumps and bruises and sometimes blood, it had all been worth it. So much of her time had been spent in action-and-reaction, split-second decisions and no thoughts beyond what was happening then. Life amongst the Bats prepped her for that quickly. And as the moments in the here and now ticked by, the realization dawned on her that she had indeed learned to adapt. The Kala that had walked off the plane in Gotham City in May wasn't the Kala that had boarded this one. It was such a cliché thought, it truly was; her life seemed to be full of popcorn-movie clichés. Taking a deep breath, Kala exhaled slowly. Nothing changed the fact that it was true, that she'd changed.

She'd rediscovered a side of herself this summer that she'd firmly locked away years ago, only occasionally allowing it brief excursions into the light of day out of necessity. Somehow, once she'd started training with Jay, pushed beyond any possibility of holding back, she'd come face to face with the sixteen-year-old girl who was still hiding in that bunker in Nevada. The sixteen-year-old girl who had come so close to the edge, the one that she was honestly a little frightened of, had responded to Jay's taunts and goads by fighting back with the same strength that had allowed her to take out General Zod. Somehow, she'd woken the side of herself that took her legacy _seriously_ , as if she could allow herself to. And she'd felt more complete than she had in years, given back something she hadn't known she still needed. Maybe being a rock star wasn't enough for her. Maybe she was meant to be more than just that. Her father could balance two sides of his life, right? She was a Lane girl; anything was possible.

The rising hope mingled with sinking loss, churning her emotions into froth. Kala wanted to be grateful to Jay for helping her regain the piece of herself she'd tried to keep buried, and at the same time she wanted to be furious at him for his miserable timing. For making her miss him, really. Why now, when she'd almost had things figured out before Gotham, why did she have to question all of her life choices _now?_

She stayed locked in a semi-claustrophobic haze, wishing she'd pulled a Lana and shipped her luggage home so she could fly herself back without all the drama of taking a commercial flight. Kala needed the wind in her face, not over-processed cabin air. Fifty-thousand feet was much different outside than it was when crammed into a tin can where everyone tried to pretend they weren't in the sky. She tried not to think about it, losing herself in her own mind, her memories and hopes, until the stewardess came by. _Then_ Kala roused enough to ask for a drink. Not rum this time, and no bottom-shelf rotgut either. Grey Goose, neat, and she sipped it delicately when it arrived.

The bloom of heat in her belly quieted her nerves, at least. Maybe it was better that she was returning to the life she'd built for herself, to everything she'd worked so hard to achieve. It wasn't as if she could back out now, anyway, even if she tried. She'd signed a contract with the label, the tour was booked, and the first few shows were already close to selling out. Not to mention, she wouldn't let the boys down. Not Robb or Ned or Morgan, and especially not Sebast.

Oh, _Sebast_. She missed him so much. And to her dread, she realized that this confusing stew of emotions over Jay hadn't done anything to stop her heart from skipping a beat when she imagined Sebast's sly smile.

Squeezing her eyes closed, Kala leaned back hard against the seat, and tried to convince herself she was doing the right thing.

…

By the time the plane landed at Metropolis International Airport, Kala had decided on a strategy and put it to work. The entire summer and all of the new, strange thoughts and feelings it had woken in her were neatly boxed up in a corner of her mind. Packed away like her grandmother's hope chest, she could keep everything safe in there and look it over when she needed to, but otherwise it would stay out of harm's way. And in the case of her mental hope chest, it wouldn't be able to harm _her,_ either.

Having done that, she was able to walk off the plane with a small smile curving her lips, genuinely glad to see her boys again. She'd tease Skellington that he was getting fat, tease Robb about whatever girlfriend he'd brought with him, and tease Morgan about his new haircut. And Sebast, well, she'd give him absolute hell, and expect to receive the same in return.

Except that wasn't how it went at all. When Kala walked out of the gate and saw them all waiting for her, the rest of the passengers' families keeping a little distance from the group of young men who had too much black clothing, hair dye, eyeliner, and piercings between them, emotion surged through her. Her smile blossomed into a grin, and all of them grinned back.

Sebast stepped forward and flung his arms wide, calling, " _Mi_ Kala!" Her yearning for him soared, and she ran into his arms, letting him pick her up and swing her around. Kala laughed delightedly—she'd missed him so much, missed his arms around her and his teasing smile, missed the way they shared everything.

When he landed her, she nearly made a smartass remark, but the thought got blasted out of her head by the way Sebast grabbed the back of her neck and laid one hell of a kiss on her.

Her eyes remained open and wide. Unexpected déjà vu swept through her. Hadn't she just done this a few hours ago, tangling her fingers into dark hair? A tiny voice in the back of her mind whispered that it was a good thing she'd been sucking on Altoids to hide the alcohol on her breath, or he might've tasted Jay on her lips. Menthol and motor oil.

A newer, more stubborn voice reminded her that it shouldn't matter. As always, Sebast had his men and Kala had been free to see who she wanted. She'd done nothing wrong or against the house rules. The foolishness of mixed messages and the ghostly remnants of that one drunken night were long past, now. Which was another of the reasons she'd gone to Gotham in the first place. She and Sebast were best friends again and that was all it would ever be. They didn't need to complicate things any further. That could only do harm.

From beside them came three muttered variations on 'holy shit' before Sebast released her, those enigmatic green eyes full of emotion as he pressed his forehead to hers. "That is the _last_ time you leave me with these bastards for three months, _mi amor_. If you try it again I'll pack myself into your luggage so you can't get rid of me."

She gave a little chuckle then, slipping her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly, her cheek pressed against his. When he leaned his head against her, her traitor mind flashed back to that stolen moment as she'd fallen asleep in Jay's arms in the study, Jay resting his cheek on her hair, quickly followed by the image of his turning and walking away. It took all she had not to gasp, the unbidden thoughts the worst kind of sudden gut-shot, making her eyes water.

 _Bye, I guess. Later, Princess._

 _Bye, Jay._

Viciously stamping down on the emotion trying to rise in her then, furrowing her brow against it, she forced her voice to stay even as she whispered, "I missed you, too, Chupi."

…

 **Jay**

The crack of bones breaking beneath Jay's fist felt like the first satisfaction he'd had in weeks.

No, months. Ever since the pretty Kryptonian princess had come to Gotham and turned his world upside down.

It was relief. It was release. It felt _good._

Another strike, and the dumbass mugger that'd crossed his path dropped like a wet rag, limp, unconscious.

Well, what was the fun in _that?_ Dammit, Jay'd hoped to get a good pounding in, paint an alley in blood-splatter, send a few thugs to Gotham General … work out this crazy frustration that just kept building and building and _building_. He was full of pent-up rage, and the only release valve was spilling blood.

For a long time, after he'd come out of the Lazarus Pit with his broken body and mind stitched back together by that green hell, Jay hadn't felt much of anything. There had been bursts of grief, and rage, and horror, but most of the time he'd wrapped himself up in a sociopathic coldness that had him trying to kill Bruce. And not just kill him, make him suffer, make him howl at pitiless fate the way Jay had howled, knowing Joker was alive and some other dumb kid was wearing a Robin uniform, waiting to get killed.

He'd probably come close to doing that, with his dramatic confrontation, putting a gun in Bruce's hands and demanding he watch Jay murder Joker … or shoot Jay himself. The sneaky sonofabitch had won, at the last second whipping a Batarang into the barrel of Jay's gun, and by some miracle they'd all three survived the night.

On his wanderings after that, Jay had begun to feel again, more than the tornadoes of negative emotion that had followed him from the Pit. He'd been protective of the kids he and Rose saved, he'd felt real affection for Donna despite not quite being able to be the man she wanted, and once back in Gotham he'd found himself feeling … like family.

Feeling like he could forgive Bruce for being a shitty father-figure and a worse mentor. Forgiving Tim for being Robin was easier, it wasn't Timbo's fault. Babs and Dick kept cajoling him back from the edge, waking up parts of him he'd thought were dead. He had an actual sense of humor that wasn't just sarcasm, even.

And then Kala. She set off all his protectiveness, but she refused to be afraid when he tried to scare her out of town. She didn't pity him, the way he sometimes sensed it from Babs or Dick or Bruce, and _oh_ how he hated them all for that. She did try to figure him out, she listened to him and watched him, and he hadn't even known she existed when all the bad shit went down, so just looking at her didn't bring back ugly memories.

Kala had kick-started things inside him, emotions, compassion, tenderness, shit like that. She'd gotten him back to the Manor, where he'd realized the one person in his life these days he unequivocally loved and respected – Alfred Pennyworth, of course – still loved him. With her as his trainee, he'd gone up against Black Mask and _not_ killed anybody. Had saved some lives, too, thanks to her powers and his training. Kala had shone a light on him without even trying, just by being who she was. Pain in the ass stubborn Super, all sunshine even in the darkest corners of Gotham.

Problem was, all those things in his soul that she'd woken up, they _hurt_ now. Like a limb that had gone to sleep, or no, pins and needles was too mild. Like a third-degree burn, where all the nerves were crisped beyond repair, and only once it started healing did it hurt. And no one was around to administer morphine and talk him through the pain. He was alone again, alone with his thoughts and the taste of her lips mocking him, and Jay had forgotten he was the one who'd skipped out on everything and holed up in his bunker, only coming out to look for trouble.

With Kala gone, totally ghosting him, everything seemed to remind him of her, every memory a new twist of the knife in his guts. Jay felt like he could explode, a nuclear blast with enough rage to level the goddamn city. Gotham would fucking deserve it, anyway, for pulling this shit on him. Jay didn't deserve to have the rug pulled out from under him like this. He didn't deserve to have the sweet life dangled in front of him and then yanked away. He didn't deserve the way his chest felt like it was about to cave in, like his heart was trying to eat itself, like…

His fingers tangling in his hair and tugging, Jay trembled, his entire body fucking shaking with the need to let it all out. He couldn't get his breath, his vision started to swim, and … and suddenly a roar filled his ears, his throat quickly going raw as he screamed, his eyes finally shutting tight against the sight of the mugger passed out on the pavement, visions of Kala swimming behind his eyelids. She'd be pissed at him for this, he knew, but the frustration and loss kept twisting together in his gut, churning and burning until _someone_ had to bleed to make it stop, and the last time he'd felt like this he'd ended up trying to make Bruce kill that goddamned clown.

Dammit. Jesus fucking dammit, how the fuck was he supposed to just go on with his life now? How was he supposed to just pretend that he hadn't spent the better part of two months falling in … fucking getting so goddamn tied up with Kala fucking Lane-Kent that he didn't have a clue how to get _un_ tied? _How?_

His lungs burning, Jay finally put the brakes on his scream, the air quieting in the dank alley. Fuck, he had to get out of here. Had to get back to his place. Had to wash the blood off his hands and off his jacket, shirt, and pants, had to—

In a heartbeat, he was on his bike—still dirty, fuck, all he could think of was how Kala kept making fun of him and his 'motorcycle fetish', and the grease and grime and mud, and her smirk back at him when he showed his hand, his reverence for the bike even when he didn't have time to clean it off—and he was speeding away from the alley so fast that it'd be a miracle if he didn't get pulled over, even more of a miracle if Babs didn't call him later to caution him about his speed, damn her and her cameras and her nosy big-sister concern.

He took a corner too quick, almost let the bike slip from underneath him, adrenaline slamming him, and he reached up to wipe a smear of blood from his face—

Fuck, he hadn't even put on his helmet before he'd gone out tonight. Did he—? Yeah, he'd remembered his domino. Fucking hell, Kala had him so twisted up that he didn't know his ass from his elbow. And that was _bad juju_ in Gotham.

Finally back at his bunker … garage … whatever, Jay pulled the bike into his private garage, rolled the door shut by hand just to have something to do, something to slam, and stalked down the steps to his entirely inadequate version of the Cave, tugging off his gloves along the way. Everything got dropped on the floor—gloves, domino, jacket, boots, bloodied shirt—and he went straight to the cabinet tucked in behind a case of ammo. There. The bottle of Bacardi 151 was still mostly full. Good.

Grabbing it, he twisted off the cap and upended it, taking the longest pull he possibly could before oxygen became an issue. And—yes, this was just what he fucking needed. A good, long soak in a hundred fifty proof liquor. Anything to shut this down, to get Kala out of his head. And his whining little thirteen-year-old self and his libido could just go die in a fire. Supergirl was gone. She wasn't coming back. And there was no helping it, no hoping or wishing for the impossible. Whatever chance Jay might've had, it was long past.

Slumping against the nearest wall, Jay slid down to the floor—the dirty, filthy floor, that Kala had told him was a bio-hazard on more than one occasion during her training. He upended the bottle again, the alcohol burning all the way down, and held himself upright with the other hand.

Soft. Something soft. His fingers clenched involuntarily, and when he gathered his wits enough to pick up the soft thing and give it a good look, he nearly choked.

The shirt that Kala had worn home on the night of their ambush at the warehouse stared at him. His shirt. That Kala had worn. That she'd brought back to him, embarrassed that she hadn't had time to launder it, but at least she hadn't bled all over it. His shirt, that he'd just left down here, more concerned with getting her into her new suit. The suit he'd made for her, the one she'd be wearing whenever she went out to bring a little more justice to the world.

But the night they'd both gotten cut up, she'd worn _this_ shirt. _His_ shirt. _Fuck._

His movements betraying him, Jay brought the shirt to his face, and inhaled deeply.

Sweetness. Sunshine and gunpowder and some kind of flowery candy. _Kala._

Jay's eyes slid shut, and he dropped his head back against the wall with a thud that reverberated through his skull. There wasn't enough liquor in all of Gotham for this.

Jay was truly and thoroughly fucked.

And Kala was gone.

…

 **The Bats**

"He's in pretty bad shape, Dick."

Frowning, Dick leaned down over Babs' shoulder to peer at the video she'd pulled up on the center screen of her console. In the not-so-surprisingly crisp footage, Jay zipped around a corner on his bike, nearly losing control of it, blood visible on his face.

"God, what happened? When was this?" It'd only been three days since Kala had left Gotham, the same since Jay had left the Manor, never returning from dropping her off at the airport, and the whole family had been on edge, wondering.

Babs threw a tight look over her shoulder at him. "This was the night after Kala left. Jay apparently decided to beat the hell out of a mugger, landing the guy in a coma in Gotham General. He just left him bleeding and unconscious in an alley, and ran back to his bunker to hide. And he hasn't left his building since then. I took a peek into his system, and there's been zero activity. It looks like he hasn't logged on at all since he went back."

It shouldn't have been a surprise, but Dick was a little flabbergasted nonetheless. Standing, he ran a hand through his hair. "Damn. Jay hasn't been this cut off in years. This is … not good. He's digging in."

A slightly wry smile tugged at Babs' mouth. "Why do you think I called you here? He needs help, and the way I figure it, you're the best qualified."

Dick lifted a brow at her as she backed up from the console and turned her chair around to face him properly. "Oh? How's that?"

"The way I understand it, you were the one that egged him on to start something up with Kala." She cut him a scathing look then, her green eyes sharp as cut glass.

"Oh. That." Wincing, Dick thought of all the nagging he'd done, and how much he'd really been hoping Jay would just do _something_. He didn't have a chance in hell, but clearly his crush was crushing _him_ , and kissing her and getting slapped would've at least leveled him out. Damn, but he'd really messed up on this one.

"Yeah, that," Babs said dryly. "Here I am doing everything in my power to keep them from climbing each other, and _you_ keep throwing them together."

Dick bristled at her. "Well why not? Dammit, Babs, he has a crush! The only way to get over that is to out it. You and I both know that." In their case, it had turned into a serious relationship – for a while.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Yes, but did you realize _she_ has one too? And what happens when you throw two people who have crushes on each other together when one of them is _leaving_ at a predetermined date? Particularly when that one already has issues with relationships that come with expiration dates, and the other one has issues with relationships, period? And both of them are still trying to sort out where they stand in this world? Not to mention when both of them have PTSD and he has the Lazarus Pit on top of that, making 'emotional stability' fairly impossible."

Dick scrubbed a hand through his hair, feeling sheepish. "It turns explosive?" he wagered. "But … you really think she had a thing for him?"

"The night of their rematch they almost ended up on the floor of his training room, if I hadn't intervened," Babs told him flatly. Dick felt his jaw drop, as certain things began to make sense. She continued, "At least he had the sense to send her back to Bruce after that. _He_ knew it was a bad idea to get something like this started this summer – and Kala did, too."

"Well, they didn't start anything this summer," Dick said, almost pleading. "She was serious about not having a summer fling."

Babs clicked a few keys, and Dick saw choppy footage from the airport.

Saw Kala and Jay, looking awkward as hell, stand around each other aimlessly for a few seconds before she moved away.

Saw Jay grab her arm and spin her back to him.

Dick watched the next few seconds, and just whistled, his heart sinking. "Oh, man," he said.

"People clapped for them," Babs said flatly. "So. _You_ set this in motion, you get to go drag him out of his own head."

…

Not long after Dick took off to go dig Jay out of his pit, Barbara dialed up a long-familiar number on her cell, foregoing her usual channels. Two rings, and the line picked up.

"Miss Barbara, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Smiling at the warmth in the old man's voice, she relaxed back in her chair. "Good afternoon, Alfred. I just wanted to let you know that Dick's gone to bring our lost boy home. He'll probably be in rough shape when he gets to you."

"Ah, very well, then." The relief was palpable in his voice, and he went on, "I daresay he's gone a bit lovestruck, hasn't he? Poor boy."

It was quite the understatement; Barbara remembered just how wrung out Jay had been after his on-again, off-again thing with Donna, and this thing he had going with Kala made that look like a playground romance. "He certainly is. And he'll probably need a good drying out and a few days on housekeeping duty to keep him occupied."

"You know my methods well, my dear," Alfred replied, a hint of a wink in his tone. "He'll be kept busy, of course. Thank you for alerting me."

"Very welcome, Alfred."

With that, she disconnected the call, and did a mental rundown of the situation. If things unfolded as she'd predicted, Jay and Kala weren't done. Sooner or later, she'd come back to Gotham. That kiss wouldn't just be a one-time thing. If anything else happened, if it went anywhere, then it would be real, an honest to goodness relationship. Kala wouldn't settle for less. God knew Jay needed something real, and with someone to keep him on his toes. And Kala definitely needed someone to ground her, to keep her rooted in the hero community and remind her of her humanity. They were a perfect match.

Now, if they could just keep Jay from crashing and burning any more than he already had, then half the battle would be won. And who knew? The perfect match could be just the thing to bring their families even closer, and bridge the gap between the Supers and the Bats.

…

No doubt about it, Jay's bunker _stank._ And not your garden variety stink, either; the further Dick descended the stairs, the more he was convinced that he was entering the Pit of Despair, a liquor-filled swamp, a previously-undiscovered circle of Hell. It made the sewers of Gotham smell like a garden in bloom by comparison.

"Jeez, Jay!" Dick complained as he hit the bottom of the stairs. "What _died_ down here?"

But the snappy comeback he'd been hoping for never came, and when Dick's eyes fell on the heap in the middle of the floor, he drew up short. Curled up around a filthy uniform shirt, Jay looked to be sound asleep, a slight snore escaping him as he drooled on the shirt.

Holy God, it was worse than Dick had thought.

"Jay, c'mon, wake up," he said gently, kneeling to prod his brother up with a slight shoulder shake. Hopefully Jay wouldn't come up swinging.

A blink, two, and Jay groaned, his eyes focusing in the low light. "Wh—what? Dick?"

A little rush of relief swept through Dick at that. "Jaybird, you've gotta snap out of it, man. You're sleeping on a concrete floor, cuddling a dirty uniform shirt, and you smell like bathtub gin."

"So what?" Jay grumbled, tossing an arm over his face. "Got a right to sleep wherever I want to in my own place. How d'you even know what bathtub gin smells like?"

That burned it. "All right, get up," Dick ordered, grabbing Jay by the elbow and hauling him upright and to his feet, the younger man protesting halfheartedly the whole time. "You know you landed a guy in the hospital?"

"Mmmph."

"I thought we were past all this, Jay. I mean, really. Kala leaves and you decide to tailspin? What the hell? It's not even like you got anywhere with her." That was a calculated dig, which should've brought fire into Jay's eyes, but it fell flat.

Grabbing a mostly-empty bottle of Jack from atop an ammo locker, Jay grumbled something unintelligible.

"Oh no," Dick said as Jay tried to upend the bottle, and with a quick hand, he snatched the offending liquor away. "Talk to me, little brother."

The rank air suddenly seemed to crackle with energy, and Jay spun on him, despair in his eyes. "I kissed her at the airport, dammit!" he spat. "Right before she got on that fucking plane and _left._ There, you happy? I finally got my head out of my ass, and Kala's gone. The hell else do you want from me?"

For a moment, Dick felt like the worst brother in the world, and it showed on his face. Babs had shown him, but hearing that raw note in Jay's voice made it more real.

"Damn, I'm sorry, Jay," he eventually managed. "I just … damn."

"Exactly. Damn," Jay spat, before reaching back down for the dirty shirt he'd been holding. His gaze went distant, and he let out a long breath. "I must be some kind of utter moron. I even left the most awkward message _ever_ on Kala's phone after I dropped her off. I'm sure that flew like the Hindenburg."

And that was where Dick drew the line. Shaking off his shock at Jay's revelations, he grabbed his brother by the elbow again, noting the blood stains on what was left of his clothes, the scrapes on his knuckles—he was _not_ about to ask where those came from, certain he didn't want to know—and the grungy film of yuck that seemed to be coating him. "Come on. You need to get cleaned up and stop wallowing in your own self-pity," he said, leading his brother none-too-gently to the stairwell to head up to Jay's apartment. "You're not a moron, you just have bad timing. You know she was on a plane, she couldn't call you back. Not to mention she stepped _off_ that plane into the arms of the family that hasn't seen her all summer. And all this laying around in a haze of alcohol isn't doing anyone any good. That guy you beat within an inch of his life is in a coma. Keep this up, and you'll get someone killed. Maybe one of _us._ I'm sure that'd go over real well with Ka—"

"Shut up!" Jay shouted then, jerking out of Dick's grip as they trudged up the stairs. "I didn't mean to—I mean, I wasn't—" But he paused then, breathing quick and heavy as he seemingly searched the empty air for an answer. _"Fuck!"_ Pushing both hands through his hair, he slowly got control of himself, and Dick watched him, waiting to see if Jay would bite, run, or both, a wounded animal defending himself, or whether he'd come back to the world of the living, human.

"Jay," he started, quiet and soothing. "She _will_ be back. And that guy will live. We just really need you to come back to us, okay? You're kind of a mess, and we just want to take care of you, all right?"

Blinking at him for a long moment, Jay looked to be working it over in his head, the fuel for his self-destruction running low at last. "Ass."

Finally, progress! "You bet," Dick said, a grin splitting his face. "Best one in town."

"Hmph." And starting up the stairs again, Jay pushed past him, mumbling, "I'm starving. And fucking dehydrated. Jesus fuck, I feel like something died in my stomach."

"My point exactly. Let's get you showered and changed, and we'll hit an all-night diner before heading back to the Manor."

Jay threw a raised eyebrow back over his shoulder at Dick as he hit the garage level, all his questions there in one expression.

Oh yeah, there he was, the snarky little brat that'd succeeded Dick as Robin all those years ago. Exactly what he'd come looking for.

…

As soon as he heard the boys coming in from the garage and trying to creep stealthily down the hallway toward the stairs, Alfred made his move, stepping out of the kitchen to cut them off.

"Welcome home, Master Jason," he said, allowing himself a little smile as he blocked their path, his hands clasped behind his back.

Both Dick and Jason looked a little dumbstruck, and poor Jason ran a hand through his hair, still wet from what Alfred assumed was his first shower in nearly a week.

"Um, thanks, Alfred," the younger boy said, not quite meeting his eyes. "Sorry I ran off and didn't call."

Alfred nodded. "As well you should be. You gave us quite a fright, young man."

"Sorry—"

But Alfred held up a hand to forestall any more apologies. "All that matters is that you are all right, and are home. I'm certain you wish to get some rest, so I won't hold you up any further. However … " pausing, he reached into a pocket and withdrew a neatly folded piece of paper, "I've taken the liberty of preparing a list of chores for you to complete, starting first thing in the morning. Master Bruce has agreed to place you on light patrol duties, so you have no excuse to not be available."

The shock on Jason's face was priceless, and Alfred had to force down a chuckle as he handed over the list, the boy's eyes growing even wider as he unfolded the paper and read down the long itinerary.

"What the—the bathrooms? _All_ of them?"

"That's correct," Alfred replied smoothly. "And the vehicles all need their monthly maintenance, as well as a wash. You will assist me with the laundry and the grocery shopping, and you will be responsible for weeding the gardens and cleaning the pools. The sunshine will do you good, at the very least."

When the poor boy's face paled even whiter than it already was, he steeled himself against feeling pity for him; Jason needed a good, long week of labor to bring him back into the family properly and cleanse his soul. Discipline.

"Okay," Jason said at last, his shoulders slumping a little. "Whatever you need, Alfred."

Laying a gentle hand on Jason's shoulder, he caught his eyes at last. "My boy, it isn't a matter of my need, but _yours._ And when Miss Kala returns—which you know very well that she shall—you will be able to look her in the eyes and feel no remorse for your behavior."

The myriad of emotions that crossed the boy's face was just what Alfred had been hoping for. Small wonder that it had taken the daughter of Superman to set the wheels in motion, but their long-lost boy had come home, for real, at last.


	38. Act Four: Little Wonders Still Remain

Babs had five screens flowing with information, her practiced gaze flicking from one to the other rapidly. Black Mask was being held without bail, and the gang situation appeared to be ticking up in his absence, while most of their other rogues had quieted down. Which was as she expected. Knowing that Mask was thoroughly busted, the masks figured the Bats would have more time to look their way, while the ordinary gangsters just got bolder. Meanwhile the price of kryptonite on the dark web hadn't increased, so no one had yet figured out who the Blur was. And Capespotting was having a field day with her recent appearance, quoting law enforcement and a trauma surgeon who had both praised her extraordinary speed – while remaining anonymous. All was reasonably well in Gotham.

As if that thought had summoned trouble, she felt the hair on the back of her neck rise. Something had changed, the airflow in the room was different now, and Babs clicked a few keys that brought up her security overview. She did so calmly, without looking around or appearing to be in any hurry.

Her security told her no breach had been detected … but computers and cameras and infrared beams were fallible, too. Babs trusted her intuition, and that well-honed sense told her she was no longer alone. She let her hands rest on the arms of her wheelchair, a casual gesture that just so happened to put the release button for her concealed escrima sticks right beneath her fingertips. There was a panic button on the chair arm, too, one that would light up the comms and bring all available assistance to her side.

But there were very few people good enough to get around her security, and most of them were also people she trusted not to harm her. So she didn't hit the panic button or release the sticks just yet. Instead, she kept glancing over the data without paying attention to any of it, keenly alert to every sense other than vision directly in front of her.

Her peripheral vision picked up a slight flicker, and her hearing captured the faintest rustle of clothing. What identified her intruder, however, was smell. Leather, motor oil, cordite, a little sweat, all brought to her by the steadily circulating air that kept her servers cool. And that particular mixture was most likely one of the short list of people who could bypass her security.

"Hello, Jay," Babs said without turning around.

"The fuck?" he snapped. "I saw you pull up your security screen, and I know damn well I didn't trip anything."

"Call it feminine intuition," Babs said sweetly, swiveling the chair around. "You're at the Manor, Alfred can give you your cookies directly. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"This time I figured I'd bring you something," he said, glowering. His hands were in the pockets of his leather jacket, and Jay brought them out, dumping a couple of tiny cracked glass lenses onto the desk in front of her. "Note that the reads on these haven't changed. I could've just kept old footage running back to your central processor in the wall comm unit, but I figured you owe me an explanation."

So he'd found the cameras in his bunker – and that meant he'd figured out she had to have them there _first_ , then gone looking very carefully so that she hadn't seen him removing them. Slick, but then, Jay was as highly trained as any of them.

Babs looked up at him fearlessly. "I had those put in when you started training Kala."

He sneered at her, pale blue eyes alight with the same old sullen rage. "Didn't trust me not to break her, huh?"

"No, Jay," Babs told him gently. "My concern – and Bruce's, when I spoke with him – was for _your_ safety, not hers."

" _My_ safety?" He drew himself up a little in surprise, and Babs allowed herself a smile.

"Yes, _your_ safety. Remember, I've read the Nevada Protocol – actually, I've substantially edited it, after this summer." Babs folded her hands in her lap and looked at him as patiently as the librarian she'd once trained to be.

"And when do I get to see this super-secret Nevada Protocol, anyway?" he asked her hotly, his arms crossed. He'd always been so defensive.

Babs answered him with a question. "Tell me, Jay, did you ever worry that she might seriously harm or even kill you?"

He gave a short bark of laughter. "K? _Our_ K? You're joking, right?"

"Not in the least," Babs replied. "And the fact that you can't even imagine the scenario is why you don't need the Nevada Protocol."

Jay stared at her, then dragged up a chair and sat in it backwards. "So it's a strike file. She already has one of those, just like everybody else Bruce deals with. Why's K need two of them?"

Babs weighed the possibilities, and decided on a little deflection. "You're not her trainer anymore, Jay. Why do you need it now?"

"If there's something about her heavy enough to need a whole second strike file, I wanna know. Because I _did_ train her, and who knows, she might turn up in Gotham again, in which case I'll probably be working with her. So dish, Big Sister. Or I tell Dickie-Bird where all the cameras in _his_ apartment are."

She laughed at the threat. "Dick already _knows_ , Jay. Enough so that he occasionally throws a little dance routine into his morning stroll to the shower. I have cameras for surveillance purposes, not entertainment. Note that there were no devices in _your_ living quarters."

His eyes flashed with anger. "Yeah. Also note that I could've come in here and fed those fucking cams to you, Babs. But we're being _civil_. So spill, before I decide to be uncivil."

Babs leaned forward and transfixed him with her most withering stare. "Really? The big bad Red Hood is gonna threaten the paraplegic chick? That's great for your image, Jay."

He grinned wolfishly. "The paraplegic chick just moved her hands back to the same place they were when she first noticed me, which _also_ happens to be a good spot to hide those sticks. Don't play poor pitiful crip with me, Babs."

"You _think_ you could take me, but I'm pretty sure you didn't train with Richard Dragon," Babs told him, changing tactics. If he wanted to play rough, she knew how to hit him without raising a hand. "But you're doing all right for a man who spent three days dead-drunk on the floor of his bunker because the girl he liked left town."

He leaned forward too, his temper clearly fraying. "You do-gooding assholes wanted me back in the fold, you wanted me to _feel_ shit again, don't think I don't know that was at least _part_ of Bruce's plan in letting me train her. Well good for you, I'm home, I can go whole days without thinking about killing every fucking person in this fucked-up excuse for a town, but that _also_ means I feel shit I haven't felt in years. Like fucking empathy and giving a shit over someone who's actually pretty goddamn lonely despite her thousands of screaming fans. So kiss my ass, all-knowing Oracle, I don't fucking _need_ your goddamn interference and I don't _need_ Dickie-Bird's intervention. I sure as fuck don't need Bruce's approval. I can and have walked away from _all_ your bullshit."

"But you came back," she said, softening her voice. Punching below the belt had made him spill all of that anger, spoiling for a fight like he always was and always had been. Now she had to show him he didn't need to do that. Not with her. "Because we _are_ your family and this _is_ your home, Jay. We want you to be _happy_ , and you were happy training Kala. Not the part where you beat the hell out of her, the part where you got to show someone what you know and watch her put it to use. Then incorporate it with her powers, too, and let me tell you, the footage of that rooftop run is pretty spectacular."

A flicker of uncertainty showed in his eyes then. "You saw … you had those cameras the whole time I trained her."

"Yes. And you pushed her _almost_ to her limit. But she and I both knew you weren't doing it to be an asshole. She only had three months to train, only two of them with you, and the rest of us had _years_. If she wanted to get where she is now, she had to train _hard_. And you were the only one who could do it. The rest of us would've let her go about two-thirds of the way there, and let her powers make up the difference. You didn't."

Carefully, very carefully, Babs reached out and caught his chin. He let her do it, those intense eyes searching hers for every scrap of nuance in what she had to say. Analyzing the words, the tone, _everything_ , looking for the lie or manipulation. "You're a _good_ trainer, Jay. Whoever your next student is will be different, they probably won't need that level of intensity. But Kala … she's the first you've trained, and she'll always be important to you. The fact that you're attracted to each other is a little _too_ much drama bound up in one summer, which is why I called you off when you were breaking in the suit."

He'd blown off most of his anger, so he just scoffed at her lightly. "Yeah, I knew _that_ was bullshit. Looking back on that little incident is how I knew you had to have cams in my bunker."

"Good. I'll let you put the replacements in. Someday you might need another set of eyes watching your back, Jay." With that, Babs gently bonked him on the nose. It was clearly an affectionate, sisterly gesture, done slowly enough he could've avoided it if he wanted to. Still, he closed his eyes just shy of flinching, and it occurred to her to wonder when was the last time someone had touched him that wasn't fighting or sparring.

Jay grimaced a little and shook his head slightly. "Yeah, right. Play nice all you want, I know how damn devious you are, Babs. Don't try playing games with me. I've cut strings tied by sharper people than you."

She let him go, and gave a little sigh. "No one here is trying to string you up, Jay. Well, maybe Bruce, but that's because _he's_ wound so damn tight in all of his own obligations that he can't imagine any other way to keep himself in check. Way back at the beginning I sent you a comm unit and cookies, Jay, because I want to work _with_ you, not against you. I had those cameras put in your bunker so I could watch over you. Maybe you've forgotten, but I always liked you."

"I like you too," he said, eyes narrowing a little. "How the hell did you get those cameras in, anyway?"

Babs laughed. "I hired it done. None of my people are _that_ good. But there _is_ someone in this town who prides herself on breaking and entering, and it was just challenge enough to have her leave something instead of taking anything away. She still needed my help with surveillance and support."

"The damn Cat," Jay sighed. "Guess I'm glad she didn't try to get into my apartment. I usually keep that rigged with lethal traps, and I'd hate to explain to Bruce that she doesn't really have nine lives."

"You wouldn't want to kill her, anyway," Babs told him confidently. "She's never harmed you, or anyone you consider yours."

He was at least _thinking_ , instead of just snarling at her. And he wasn't going to let her lead him too far off the original line of questioning. "So why're you all so damn worried that K would kill me?"

"She could," Babs pointed out.

"Yeah, right," was Jay's response. "She was almost out of juice when she came to me."

Babs sighed and looked heavenward. "I'll grant you that without powers, she's no match for you. But Jay, Kryptonians have a tendency to manifest new powers or increase existing ones in response to stress. Her father got most of them that way, her brother got his lost powers back by seeing her in danger, and she got flight right after the most stressful experience of her life. Unless you pulled out kryptonite, you can't be sure that she's _completely_ powerless."

"All right, fine, she could get a burst of strength and snap me in half," Jay said with a shrug. "Doesn't mean she'd _do_ it. I know from killing, Babs, and she's no killer."

She just arched an auburn brow at him, and Jay's expression went somber, suddenly taking the whole conversation more seriously. "Wait, she did say that ship had sailed … what the _hell_ , Babs? The whole damn community would know if Superman's baby girl went off the rails and started killing people!"

"Like the whole community knows about me, and you, and Steph?" Babs asked him. "No one publicizes the times we fail to protect our own."

"Jesus fuck," he said, quietly.

Trying to decide how much to tell him, Babs spoke softly. "She never went off the rails. Kala and her brother have _both_ killed exactly once each. The difference is, Jason was too young to understand what he'd done. Kala knew. It wasn't premeditated, but it was very deliberate. She's never seriously harmed anyone else, before or since. Well, except breaking your nose that once, but I think Bruce shamed her enough over that to keep it from happening again. Kala knows, and a handful of us know, that if she felt her life was at risk, she could and _would_ kill to defend herself."

"Jesus fuck," Jay said again, rubbing a hand over his face. "I knew there was _something_ in her, something I kept seeing flashes of, but she kept a real stranglehold on it. I didn't know what it was. But damn, Babs, I _kept_ backing her into corners. You saw how bad I whaled on her. How come she didn't unload on me?"

"I did see that," Babs admitted, and didn't tell him it had made her as nauseous to watch it as it had made him to do it. She didn't have cameras in his lobby bathroom, but he'd been very green in the face as he'd fled from her that last time. "It was never really _personal_ , Jay. You never hit her out of anger. I was watching, and you were desperate at times – trying to find her limit so she'd tap out and go home. I don't know where Kala's limit actually _is_ , and I don't really want to see her find it, either."

He kept silent, and she continued, "If Bruce had seen you training her, he would've tried to pull her out. I don't know if she would've let him. Dick saw the bruises, and tried to stop her from going to you, but she fought him. At some point we all have to recognize that she's an adult and can make her own decisions. She _chose_ to train with you. Kala doesn't pass up a challenge, and you challenged her more than any of us were doing."

Jay was turning this information over in his mind, examining it from all angles. "Who knows about this Nevada Protocol?" he asked. "You and Bruce, right? Who else?"

"Only the ones who were in Nevada," Babs said. "Clark, Bruce, Dinah, me by way of Dinah's comm, and Dick. Dick knows _about_ it, he knows what happened to her, but he hasn't read the file. Dinah and I have discussed it but she hasn't read it either. Clark doesn't want to read it. So it's basically me and Bruce."

Oh, the sour look that got her! "You two think you can run Gotham _and_ the League," he muttered.

"We're the fail-safes. We're the ones who assume the worst may someday happen, and plan for it." Babs arched her brows again, not commenting that so far as she was concerned, she _did_ run Gotham and the League. Quite effectively, too. "Bruce always has to know what the worst-case scenario could be. Me, I can't go out there and run the rooftops with you, but I can out-think almost anyone. This is how I keep everyone safe."

"And Bruce is paranoid and obsessive," Jay said, sounding dismissive, but he had acquired the same traits. "What happened in Nevada?"

Babs shook her head. "No one told Kala your story. If you want to know, you'll have to get it from her. As for the Nevada Protocol, it's not just a strike file. It's a psych profile and a list of potential triggers. She is deeply ashamed of what happened in Nevada, and we don't want to make it any worse, so those triggers are to be avoided." She quirked her mouth into a crooked grin, and added, "We also don't want her to kill anyone else, if we can help it. Especially not one of ours."

"Yeah, killing's a hard habit to break," Jay said almost absently. "Once you've gone there a couple times, it's too easy to make that decision when you probably shouldn't."

"Should I bake you a cake like they do for alcoholics who've successfully stayed sober awhile?" Babs asked lightly.

He mimed a punch at her shoulder, but didn't connect. "No, you jerk."

"All right then. Let's talk about how we're going to set up the next set of cameras in your bunker," Babs said, turning to her computer to bring up a blueprint of his building.

Jay leaned back, staring at her. "I came here to curse you out over the damn cams, and somehow now I'm helping you put more in. How the fuck do you _do_ that, Babs?"

"Big Sister knows best?" Babs replied, grinning.

"Big Sister is an interfering, manipulative asshole," Jay grumbled.

But he left with new cameras and microphones, to be placed at his discretion, and Babs called it a win.

…

All of the welcome-home festivities were beginning to frazzle Kala. She'd arrived at her own house to find that the washer had decided to stop spinning, and the repair companies were all giving her appointments three days away, so all her clothes from Gotham were going to have to be washed at a laundromat. She didn't trust the coin-operated machines in the basements at either set of parents' apartments. As if that wasn't delightful enough, no one had been in the Metropolis house for a month (except for Dad stopping by to water the plants), and Sebast had left half a gallon of milk in the fridge. _That_ was now well on its way to becoming cheese, and the smell as he poured it out made them both gag.

Her first night home, she just wanted to pass out in the familiar bed and try to put Gotham behind her. But no, the band were all there, they wanted to reminisce and give her hell about the _GQ_ photoshoot. Kala growled at them until Robb slipped up and admitted the photos were super hot, at which point Morgan and Ned and Sebast ganged up on him and gave _him_ grief instead. Kala ended up bowing out of her own welcoming party and crawling into bed early.

Where she woke up in the middle of the night, dreaming about blue eyes pale as ice and a grin sharp enough to cut, only to find herself in more familiar arms, Sebast snoring against her shoulder and holding her as if she might disappear. Oh yeah, her summer off to sort out her issues hadn't exactly gone as planned, and now things were _more_ complicated, because some part of her mind insisted that him greeting her with a kiss at the airport meant that she should probably roll over and kiss him and see where it went.

No. Kala had more respect for Sebast than that. Not with the memory of another man haunting her, not when they couldn't avoid each other for the next six months, not when they meant so much to one another. And he already had too many people in his life trying to pretend he liked girls. So she let him sleep, and gradually drifted back off herself.

The next day, after sleeping in _way_ later than usual, she went to see her parents, dropping by the _Daily Planet_ offices the way she used to back in high school. Jimmy Olsen still kept a jar of candy on his desk, Gil and Bill still grinned to see 'the kid' running around the place, and Mom and Dad still argued like two cats in a sack.

Well, Mom did most of the arguing. Dad just nodded and let her think she'd won, then did what he'd been planning to all along. They drove each other crazy at work, forever trying to poach each other's stories and even each other's personnel. Kala was just glad they kept the arguing strictly work-related, these days.

Lois hugged and kissed her daughter, and Kala leaned into it with a sigh. She was coming to the conclusion that no matter how grown-up she got, Mom hugs would _always_ be safety and security beyond measure. "I love you," she murmured into Lois' shoulder.

"I love you, too," Lois chuckled, taking her by the shoulders and leaning back to look at her. Despite being several inches taller, Kala always felt like a little kid when she did that. "You look good, kiddo. I guess they fed you right in Gotham."

"Alfred is a really good cook, among other things," Kala replied. "I'm gonna keep pestering him until he gives me recipes."

Lois chuckled at that, and Clark came over, beaming at her. Kala leaped to hug him, too, squeezing him tight for long moments. No matter what else might happen, she would always be a daddy's girl – and damn proud of it, with a dad like hers. "It's good to have you back," Clark told her, his voice rumbling softly in his chest.

"It's good to _be_ back," Kala replied. And then looking up at him with a grin, she added, "I miss our morning routine."

That said routine involved standing on miles of empty air, watching the sun rise over the Atlantic, went unsaid due to the reporters around them. Ever since Kala developed flight, she'd tried to join her father for the morning sunbath. They didn't always make it every morning, but they made most of them. And even without words, that awe-inspiring view only they shared was something that resonated deep in her soul.

He grinned broadly, and Lois nudged her shoulder lightly. "Lana and Richard called dibs on the first family dinner, so head over there around 5, okay?"

"Sure, but how'd you let them get away with that?" Kala asked, tilting her head sideways.

"Well, we all wanted to see you, but Kristin has a date tonight," Clark told her. "Going by our place would make her late, so this is the best compromise."

Kala's eyebrows went up. Her little sister was just sixteen, and the idea that _Lana_ of all people was letting her daughter date before twenty was something of a shock. "I'd better get over there early and give Little K grief, then," she said lightly.

As it turned out, she headed over to the Whites just after lunch with the Lane-Kents. Kala rang the doorbell despite having her own key, and knowing the penthouse doors were unlocked; Kristin didn't know her big sister was also the Blur. The fewer people knew the secret, even within the family, the safer they all were. So penthouse touchdowns were off the table. As for not using the key, she wanted to surprise them.

At her ring, Dusty the beagle set up a sonorous howl, with a backup chorus of yips from the two Yorkies, Sergeant and Pepper. Dusty was almost as old as the Lane-Kents' Bagel, but still considered himself the official greeter. The terriers had been bequeathed to Lana by her mother-in-law, Sylvia White, and were thankfully much better behaved in her house. Kala smiled, listening to them – and the faint click of claws on hardwood that announced the Whites' other dog, Narcissa, a beautiful chocolate Doberman.

After the events of that long-ago January, when Kala had been kidnapped and Lana had nearly been killed, Kala couldn't blame her for wanting a dog with more intimidation factor than a beagle. Narcissa certainly fit the bill. She'd never been anything other that sweet and adorable with Kristin, or sweet and playful with the family, but _she_ took the title of watchdog more seriously than Dusty. He made a lot of noise, but he wagged his tail and begged for attention from everyone. Narcissa watched – and no one knew what she'd do a threat, but just looking at her intent expression made them all feel more comfortable.

"Hush, Dusty," Kristin said, coming up the hall. And in a more formal tone – reserved for a dog that actually listened – she continued, "Cissa, back up. Good girl."

Another second, and the door was open, Kala already smiling at her little sister. It probably should've been step-sister, since there was no blood between them, but the whole family ignored conventions freely, and Kala wouldn't let anyone doubt the strength of her love for this little girl.

Who wasn't so little, almost Kala's own height now, though the look of startled delight dawning on her face made her look eight again. "Big K!" she yelled, and flung herself into Kala's arms much the same way Kala had jumped at her own dad earlier.

"Hey, Little K," Kala laughed, squeezing her tight. _Here_ was her anchor to normal life, neither superhero hijinks or rockstar drama. Just her very human little sister, who worked in the mail room at the _Daily Planet_ and had her sights set on her dad's old job as International Editor.

With one more squeeze and a kiss on the cheek, Kristin leaned back. She'd inherited her mother's gorgeous auburn hair, and her father's intense blue eyes. Kala just shook her head. "I swear you get prettier every time I see you, Little K," she mock-scolded. "You gotta slow down before you run me over. I'd like to be the family beauty queen just a _little_ bit longer, okay? Like maybe 'til you're old enough to vote?"

Kristin rolled her eyes. "Ugh, like I could compete with you. I'm not the one in _Entertainment Weekly_ and _GQ_ and someday soon, _Rolling Stone_."

"Let's _not_ talk about _GQ_ ," Kala sighed. "I didn't know the one skirt was transparent."

Kristin just scoffed. "If it didn't set Mom's hair on fire, it's not that bad. All she had to complain about was that they only let you wear a couple of her pieces."

Kala tipped her head slightly, regarding Kristin thoughtfully. "Really? Huh. Not what I expected from Lana."

"Speaking of things no one expected from Mom," Kristin said, giving Kala an arch look.

Just then, the woman herself called out from further in the apartment, "Kristin? If that's your sister, let her in. And close the door, please."

Both girls grinned, and whispered to each other, "We're not air-conditioning the whole building, you know!" They broke into laughter at that oft-repeated phrase from childhood, but they did both scoot inside, Kala stooping to pet the dogs. Dusty had been trained _not_ to jump all over visitors, but being ignored had driven him close to misbehavior, and Kala scratched his ears affectionately. Even Sergeant and Pepper wanted some attention, though they had to prance under Cissa to reach Kala.

"You're early, sweetheart," Lana said, dusting off her hands and coming toward Kala for a hug. The dogs milled around a little, moving out of the way.

"Like I could stay away for long," Kala laughed, hugging her back. Lana's trademark red hair had gone mostly white these days, but she still had the elegance of one of her own models.

"More like, you spent a summer in a house full of unruly boys, and came home to more of the same from your band," Lana replied with a smirk. "Any excuse to sneak away for a while, am I right? And my home is saner than most, despite Richard living here."

Kristin rolled her eyes. "I'd tell Dad you said that, but he thinks it's cute. God, you two are so gross still."

"When you're my age, you'll appreciate being called cute," Lana told her daughter. "Not very much before then, I'm afraid."

Kala, meanwhile, sniffed the air appreciatively. A familiar blend of savory spices wafted toward her sensitive nose. "Do I smell a roast? Lana, I love you!"

"I love you, too," Lana laughed. "Kansas grass-fed beef, even. It's not going to be ready for another four hours, so keep away from the kitchen."

Hugging her again, Kala murmured, "I'm stalking Alfred Pennyworth's peanut butter cookie recipe, someday I'll convince you to give me the secret behind that pot roast."

"It's in my will," Lana told her, chuckling. "Kristin, love, I know you want to catch up with Kala. You two girls go on and gossip. I've still got mac and cheese to make."

They both kissed her before retiring to Kristin's room to catch each other up on mundane details. Kala managed to keep the conversation geared toward the rockstar side of things, for the most part.

"So, Dick Grayson," Kristin said, raising her eyebrows. "He's pretty and he's rich. So he's either a jerk or he has a two-digit IQ, right?"

"Nope, pretty, rich, sweet as sugar, and smart, too," Kala said, pulling a grave face. "Sure made all that promotional crap a lot easier, but he's basically another big brother."

"Darn, I wanted a rich and famous brother-in-law," Kristin sighed.

Kala snorted laughter at that. "Keep dreaming, Little K. Speaking of dating, I heard _you_ were going out tonight."

"I am," Kristin said, perking up. "And 'out' is the operative word. I finally told Mom."

Kala lit up at that, grabbing Kristin in another impulsive hug. The younger girl laughed out loud. "I know, I know, you _told_ me it wasn't going to be a big deal!"

"Yes, I did," Kala said firmly, rumpling her hair. She had been the first person Kristin talked to about being attracted to girls – a conversation precipitated by Kala bringing her girlfriend Marlene home for Thanksgiving. No one in the family had batted an eyelash then.

Kala had been sworn to strictest secrecy, and she had kept that particular secret. She had enough journalistic DNA to suspect that _someone_ had caught on, and broken the news to Lana before Kristin actually did. Especially as Kristin continued, "So I finally blurted my guts, and Mom just hugged me and said she loved me. She even thanked me for trusting her enough to tell her! You can't get any better than that."

Oh yeah, that had _definitely_ been coached, but Kala only grinned. "She _does_ love you, Kristin. Forever and ever, no matter what. That's what all our parents do."

"I know, but Mom…" Kristin sighed. "Mom isn't like Lo. She has different standards. I didn't want to disappoint her." Some of the heart-wrenching fear from that discussion still lurked in her eyes.

Kala chose to arch her brows and lighten the atmosphere. "Different standards, huh? You trying to say Mom doesn't have standards?"

"Well she married into Smallville, obviously she has high standards," Kristin teased back. "But you know what I mean. Mom loves Tobie and Maggie, even if they were Lo's friends to start with, but it's different. I'm her daughter."

"Yeah, and you didn't stop being her daughter just because you're gay," Kala replied. "Give her a little more credit, Little K."

The point was made, and they moved to less momentous topics for a while. Eventually Lana knocked on the door and asked them both to run to the corner store and pick her up some half-and-half. They could talk just as easily on the way, and as they headed out, Kala let herself bask in the domestic bliss.

It was good to finally be home.

…

Kristin was not, however, staying for dinner. Lois and Clark came over just in time to give her a hug as she left for her date, bringing the news that Jason and Elise's flight had been delayed. Kala scowled; she'd offer to go get them once Kristin left, but Elise didn't appreciate her flying skills at the best of times. Now, with the announcement she expected them to make, it'd be even less welcome.

Lana took one look at her daughter's dramatic eye makeup and rolled her eyes, knowing Kala was responsible, but even she kissed Kristin's hair and wished her good luck. "Be home by ten thirty," she warned.

" _Mom_ ," Kristin complained, rolling her eyes. "Everyone else in our class gets to stay out 'til eleven!"

"Everyone else doesn't have me for a mother," Lana replied. "Or a big sister who got in _major_ trouble for breaking curfew, once upon a time."

Kala wilted a little, and Kristin relented. "Okay, okay. It wasn't Big K's fault, anyway. Love you, Mom." She hugged and kissed everyone else before skipping out the door.

And Lana watched her go with a look that Lois knew well from the twins' teenage years. Richard, who had arrived home the same time as Lois and Clark, slipped an arm around his wife's waist. "Could be worse," he said. "She could shave half her head and get sixteen piercings in one ear and wear only plaid flannel."

Lana elbowed him. "Don't tempt fate, Richard. It's her life, her hair, her wardrobe … but you know I'd weep over the hair."

Kala snorted laughter. "Remember that time I temp-dyed it black to match mine?"

The glare she got was decidedly frosty. Lois, however, cut in to say, "That day will live in infamy, Kala. Especially since it took over a week to come out."

"I had to explain that to her teacher," Lana said. "Her _third grade_ teacher. No other child was getting drastic hair dye at eight."

"She wanted to be like her big sister," Kala said with a shrug. "And I was old enough to buy the dye. You gonna blame me for the girlfriend, too?" She grinned when she said it; she and Lana could tease each other, knowing there was no venom in it.

Lana gave her the most vicious scowl she could manage – and then broke into laughter, rumpling Kala's hair. "Oh, I blame you for a lot of things, Kala. Not that, though. I'm just glad you gave her the courage to say something to me before she turned twenty."

Lois scoffed then. "Raines says she knew when Kristin was twelve. That's why she stopped being such a jerk to Richard. You could blame her, if you want. She's claimed to infect more women with lesbianism than anyone else in the state."

"Tobie would take credit for anything she could," Lana remarked, shaking her head. "All right, dinner's almost ready, come in and have a seat."

They all arranged themselves at the dining room table, Kala taking a deep breath of deliciously-scented air wafting from the kitchen. It was still very good to be home … and she was a little more relieved, now that everyone at the table knew the family secret. There was less to hide.

Sooner or later Kristin was going to find out. She was too smart, too observant, not to notice certain inconsistencies. But the entire family had decided that no one would ever be _told_ that Clark was Superman. It was for their safety, everyone's safety. They'd already experienced what happened when the bad guys found out the truth; Lois and Lana still bore the scars. Luthor was all too willing to strike at what he perceived at Kal-El's weakness: the people he loved.

All of them had better manners than to talk with their mouths full, and the first few minutes of the meal passed in near-silence as they all devoted themselves to the food. Once the pace slowed down, Richard was the one to ask the first question. "So, now that you're home again, and had a chance to think about it, any interesting conclusions about Gotham?"

"Besides everyone there is crazy?" Kala replied, with a chuckle. "Seriously, Metropolis just doesn't get as _dark_ , or as whacked-out psychotic, as Gotham. Lana, I can't believe you lived there."

"I lived in Bristol," Lana told her. "And about a week into staying there, I started taking armored cars to and from the city like all the other millionaires. You just never know when someone in a mask is going to start shooting."

"Yeah, somehow I doubt you spent a lot of time in the parts of town I was hanging out in." Kala shook her head; if Lana had even seen the Bowery in passing, it would be a shock.

"Bruce had you working the East End?" Clark asked with a frown.

Kala waffled for a moment, then decided not to try hiding too much from professional journalists. "Actually, I was patrolling everywhere, including the Bowery, by the end. Once I was off sunlight restriction, of course. It's just safer to be able to check out at Mach 15 if things go sideways. Besides, I wasn't by myself – I always had a Bird or a Bat with me."

"They do have quite a network in Gotham," Lana murmured.

Kala nodded. "I got to hang out with some pretty awesome people. I mean, Oracle could _almost_ top my list for favorite redhead, if I didn't already have you."

Lana grinned at that. "You don't need to flatter me for dessert, Kala."

"That's pretty high praise," Lois said, glancing at Lana with a considering nod. "I've met Oracle. She's one hell of a woman, in all arenas. Smart as hell, and gives me a run for my money in the guts department. Which is why I mostly leave her be."

Kala winked at her mom. "She says pretty much the same thing about you."

"Now _that's_ something to put on your resume. 'Lois Lane approved'," Richard remarked.

Leaning back a little, Kala smirked. "Yeah, Oracle is amazing. She kicked my ass _and_ psychoanalyzed me in the same hour. Which is even more impressive when you realize she did the ass-kicking from a _wheelchair_."

"I've always had the greatest respect for her, even when she was Batgirl," Clark put in. "I'm glad you like her."

"I'm glad _she_ likes _me_ ," Kala replied. "I don't want to imagine what life would've been like if she hadn't decided I was okay."

"We'd've sicced your mother on her," Richard cut in. "And sold tickets to the argument, probably."

Kala tried to imagine the two of them arguing, and shook her head. "No, I don't think that would've worked. Babs is too subtle and too sneaky. She would've just cooked up something to make me go home." As soon as she said it, she winced, realizing she'd said the name.

Clark saw her face, and shrugged. "Richard and Lana know our names. We know they're trustworthy, and there's no connection to the Bats that would lead anyone looking for the Bats' identities to look for them."

"Besides, when I heard your mother was letting you stay with _Bruce Wayne_ , someone had to convince me he was more than just the too-rich-for-his-own-good playboy I'd met among the Gotham high society crowd," Lana added. "It's good to know that no one is _quite_ that much of a flake."

That got Lois laughing, grinning hugely at the thought. "Betcha he still has your number somewhere, Red."

"Too bad for him, I'm happily married – and could never deal with his level of drama, even when I was young and single," Lana shot back.

Kala almost choked on her roast at that. "Oh my God, he made a play for you, too? What on earth… You're not even his _type,_ Lana! God, Uncle Bruce has issues."

Lois snorted, enjoying the opportunity to poke at the Bat. "With that one? Commitment issues, anyway."

"Yeah, can't blame him. I met his wife," Kala replied, and saw both her mother's and her father's eyebrows shoot up.

"Wait, wait," Richard said. "Bruce Wayne is married, and the tabloids don't know about it?"

"Considering who he's married to, they wouldn't," Clark replied, scowling as he shared a glance with Lois. "Kala, how on earth did you meet Talia al Ghul?"

"She showed up to breakfast one morning, wanting to talk to Bruce about some contract Wayne Enterprises is trying to get," Kala said with a shrug. "Basically everyone freaked out when she just turned up – they still don't know how she got through security. I didn't know who she was, and between Alfred and Dick they made it look like I was nothing more than my cover story."

Richard watched that interchange intently, and asked, "Cliff's Notes for the civilians? Who is this woman?"

Clark paused, searching for words, so Kala stepped in. "The daughter of one of Batman's big bad guys. Also one of the top ten assassins on the planet, according to the boys. No one ever explained to me how Bruce ended up married to her, though."

"You can blame her father for that," Clark said darkly. "Under their country's particular marriage laws, all that's necessary is the consent of the bride's father – and the consummation. And her father very much wants Bruce to take over from him, so he was happy to consent. For what it's worth, they do actually love one another, as near as I can tell. Bruce is … not good at showing emotion. I still think a marriage ought to be a little more like ours, as much as possible. Not everyone can be as lucky as me, but they should try." He smiled at Lois on that note.

Kala had to snort at that, considering it all. "Yeah, as barf-inducing as you and Mom are sometimes, I agree. Uncle Bruce's whole dynamic with _everyone_ is weird. I mean, just look at his kids."

"Speaking of which," Lois said thoughtfully, looking over at her daughter with one brow arched curiously. The gleam of curiosity that Kala herself had inherited burned in those hazel eyes. "Did you ever find out what you wanted to know about Jason Todd?"

Kala blew out a breath, the mac and cheese suddenly feeling a little gluey on her tongue. Or maybe it was just her reluctance to talk about the man who wouldn't get out of her mind. "Well, yeah. Considering he ended up being my primary trainer."

That had Lois and Clark both looking at her in amazement, before another of their little shared glances. "Really?" Lois asked, both of her eyebrows going up now. "Huh. Wow. That was … totally unexpected."

Clark, meanwhile, asked in a tense voice, "How is he?"

"Angry, sarcastic, rude," Kala replied, ticking the descriptions off with an expressive shrug. _Much too attractive for his own good._ "But he'll be fine. Alfred has the situation in hand."

Lois nodded, that inquisitive look still quite alive. "That I could see. If anyone can fix that situation, Alfred Pennyworth can. The man's a saint."

Before Kala could affirm that, Richard cleared his throat. "Cliff's Notes again, please?"

A look passed between Clark, Lois, and Kala. "Jason Todd is the second ward of Bruce Wayne, the one he legally adopted," Clark said, and Kala's eyebrows rose as another piece of the puzzle dropped into place.

Lois added, "The second Robin."

And Kala decided to spill it all – this was her family, and they needed to understand who Jay was. "The one that the goddamn Joker killed, we thought. Turns out he wasn't dead, just in a coma for over a year, and when he woke up he got picked up by some very bad people. When he came back to Gotham, he was Red Hood."

" _Red Hood_ was a Robin?" Lana yelped. "I remember those stories – and being _very_ glad we weren't living in Gotham at the time. Kala, he's…" She stopped herself, shaking her head. "Never mind. You would know better than I would." With that, she got up and went into the kitchen for a moment.

"I know enough," Clark said. "And I'm _not_ pleased that Bruce never informed me he was sending you to train with Jay."

Kala managed to crack a smile despite her stomach churning. "Jay and I didn't give him much choice. We bumped into Jay on a mission that turned out a whole lot darker than we suspected, and he threw it in my face that he knew who I was. I got pissed, we snarked at each other, and that's when I called you, Mom. I had to go to Oracle to find out more, eventually, and nothing I learned explained why he had such a hate-on for me from the word go."

Everyone stared at her. Except Lana, who had returned with the cobalt glass jar she kept in the kitchen mostly for Lois' visits, and set it in front of Kala. "I have a feeling we're going to need to this," she said gently. "You're up to seventy-five cents so far."

Recognizing the swearing jar, and their choice of topic, Kala sighed. "Since we're talking about Jay, I'd better just drop a ten in there," she said, only half joking. "Anyway, he came to breakfast and challenged me to a sparring match. I accepted before anyone could say anything – I still had most of my powers, this was early on – and then the bastard kept calling me 'Princess' and picking on my _wardrobe_ choices the whole time. So … I broke his nose."

Clark winced, but Lois cackled. "Good girl. I would've done the same."

"You wouldn't have been able to do it from a hover right above his head, where he couldn't see you," Kala pointed out. "And then I got yelled at by Uncle Bruce. Not for hitting him, but because I waited until he saw me to hit him. And he got yelled at for assuming I didn't know how to fight."

"And how did you get from beating each other up to training together?" Richard asked. He was still following with more curiosity than concern – which he likely wouldn't be, if Kala had been forthright about her _extracurricular_ interest in Jay.

"The caped crowd has some weird ways of making friends," Lois put in snarkily.

"He met up with me later, and said Bruce wasn't giving me enough training," Kala replied. "So, being my mother's daughter, I took that as a challenge. He also told me he didn't want anyone else to get hurt as badly as he did, and he actually _meant_ that part. He wants everyone to believe he's still a half-crazy killer, but most of what he does is about keeping other people from going through the shit that he did. And somehow he convinced Bruce that he was serious about training me, and then I started going to his place. He is a pretty good trainer, honestly. I know Bruce and the boys were impressed by where I was when I left compared to when I arrived."

And she absolutely was _not_ going to talk about how many bruises, black eyes, or broken ribs it took to get there. Injuries that were completely healed deserved no mention, especially when it would only upset people who loved her.

" _That_ was a brief summary," Lois remarked, raising her brows again. It was starting to amuse Kala how often this was happening to Mom during this conversation; it wasn't that common an occurrence these days. "So what _exactly_ did Red Hood train you _on_ , Kala?"

At that, she could grin. "A variety of joint locks and takedowns from Hapkido and other styles, plus plenty of sparring practice to integrate it with what I already know. Patrol – _light_ patrol, which means no masks, just ordinary criminals – so I know how to read the street and how to work with a partner. A little bit of parkour, a little bit of strategy, a little bit of first aid. Oh, and he tried to teach me how to shoot, but that didn't go so well for him."

"Guess he didn't read up on your mom," Richard laughed.

Thinking about that shooting lesson and what came after it, Kala fell quiet. Of course, Lana was the one who noticed what she'd slipped into that description, and she asked, "First aid?"

"Surprise, I know how to do stitches," Kala said, unable to help herself from sounding wan. "Jay and I went after Black Mask's guys when we realized they were restocking, and he had some extra goons staked out. Mask knew we were trying to shut down his fucking human chop shop."

Normally, that particular piece of profanity got her a scolding from Lana, but in this instance it just made her eyebrows climb higher. "Did you just say…?"

It _had_ gotten really dark, really quick, the way things often did in Gotham. Kala had meant to skirt the worst things she'd seen and done, but that one had slipped by. And now all of it came spilling out, the images Kala had been trying to keep buried deeply while she was with the band or her family flashing in front of her eyes. "Yeah, human chop shop. Unwilling organ donors. Black Mask is a sick twisted sonofabitch, and he was snatching homeless people, homeless _kids_ because they're more likely to be healthy y'know, and carving them up to sell their organs. There's a helluva black market for organs, apparently, and he wanted to cash in. We pissed him off about two weeks into my visit because we busted into his shipping and stopped an entire harvest, put all those organs back into legitimate channels. So he was being extra protective when we ran across him again, and Jay and I both got ourselves cut. Me, mostly because I was down to no powers from lack of sunlight, and Jay because he was trying to protect me."

Clark sighed and rubbed his temples. "For the record, I knew how dangerous Gotham is. But good grief, Kala, not even I expected you to go up against Black Mask over something like this. To run into something like that while you're training…"

Her jaw stiffened slightly. "Daddy, because I was there at the final takedown, one boy lived who wouldn't have without a super-speed flight to the hospital. We saved more people, but they'd already started operating on him – he only lived because I was fast enough. His life is worth some nausea on my part, and a cut that healed the next morning."

Richard and Lana had looked at each other, and she just looked wounded at the thought of such casual cruelty for profit. Richard looked grim; everyone tended to forget his military service, but he knew there were dark places in the world, and some of them were a lot closer to home than anyone expected.

Lois put her hand over her daughter's, and gave it a gentle squeeze. "As dark as it can possibly get, and you see the light in it. The light _you_ brought. Are you gonna stop doubting that you're part of the legacy now, Kala? You _are_ your father's daughter, sweetheart, through and through."

Kala took a hitching breath, and blinked away tears. Of course Lois could reach right down the bottom of her soul, touch the oldest deepest fear there, and turn it into a shadow. She tried to stay composed … but ultimately Kala leaned sideways and hugged her mom tight. "I love you. I missed you. I wish you were a _teeny_ bit less accurate on stuff like that, but … I love you, Momma."

Squeezing her right back, Lois murmured, "I love you too, my baby. And I'm so, so proud of you."

Everyone else paid attention to their plates for a few minutes, until Kala managed to fight down the sniffles. "Okay, so," she said in brighter tones. "I'm also my mother's daughter, through and through, because _everyone_ who saw me fight knew that was all you, Mom. It's actually really _fun_ , kicking ass and taking names."

"This is why everyone's glad _I_ don't have the powers in the family," Lois laughed, smirking at Clark knowingly as he sighed. "I'd be all kinds of trouble. Lucky for them, you're not _quite_ as evil as me."

"You're not evil. Not most of the time," Kala said automatically, though she knew what her mother meant. She gave another sigh, adding, "And at least now some of the crap about me being a dilettante will stop. If _Batman's_ impressed, everyone else can shut the hell up."

"If they're not impressed, they're not paying attention," Lana said staunchly.

"They're paying attention, just not to the right stuff," Kala replied. "And after this summer … I don't think I can just be part-time. I've seen too much, and I know how much good I can do. It's going to be insane, and I think I'm gonna be glad that I can swap sleep for sunlight for a while, but I asked Babs to keep me on as reserves. If they need me in Gotham, I can make an excuse to fly in."

Richard grinned. "I feel sorry for the rest of the caped crowd, when they realize what they're dealing with. Too bad, though. They deserve it for underestimating you."

Kala breathed a sigh of relief, glad they'd gotten through that discussion without anyone trying to forbid her from returning to Gotham on the grounds of it being too dangerous … and without too much more discussion of Jay. _That_ was far too complicated a subject for her to even think too hard about.

Just then, the doorbell rang, setting off the four dogs who were confined to their crates during dinner. Kala went to answer it, and there was her twin. Kala didn't quite expect the way her heart squeezed at the sight of him; almost instantly she felt her eyes start to tear up. God, she still missed that face when she didn't see him for a while. Jason beamed a huge and dorky grin that made her heart hurt. "Elvira!" he yelled, and swept her into a hug that lifted her clear of the ground.

"Dopey!" Kala laughed, fighting off the homesick tears that started to fall. No matter how old they got, no matter what different paths they would take, there was no one, _no one_ like this giant doofus that meant the world to her. She hugged him back, as tightly as she could, kicking her heels up. Boys came and went; Iguanaman was forever. "Oh my God, I missed you," she murmured against his shoulder, clearing her throat before leaning back to beam right back. Quickly swiping at tears, she rumpled his hair and added in a loud voice, "Better late than never, Jase, but sorry – I ate all the dessert. You snooze, you lose."

Jase had seen her wibble, though, and grinned a little more. It's not like she had to tell him; she knew he missed her, too. "In that case, you better hack it back up then," he teased, and squeezed her.

That got him the typical response, Kala wheezed theatrically, still laughing, and smacked his shoulders. Behind Jason, Elise rolled her eyes at the two of them, closing the door once they were all inside. "And clearly, with these two, nothing ever changes. Very mature," her sister-in-law snarked, trying to hide a smile.

Jason finally let Kala down, sighing with disbelief at Elise. As if she didn't know that this was simply par for the course. Kala stuck her tongue out, compounding the statement, before carefully snatching her up just as tight. "Good to see you, too, Dr. Mom," she teased, her voice low. It was their turn to share a grin, then.

Good thing she'd kept her voice down, because the parents had made their way into the hallway, calling out greetings. There were hugs and kisses aplenty, Elise coming in for her fair share of it as well. Lana herded them all into the dining room, but before she could grab plates for them, Elise held up her hand. Kala couldn't help her fierce grin then, knowing what would come next. "Okay guys, I wanna do this first and get it out of the way before Jason explodes," she said.

Kala cut her gaze to her twin, and saw him grinning, rocking back and forth on his heels like an impatient little boy. She took his hand and squeezed it. It was such a surreal moment, even after all the time that the pair of them had been trying; her brother was going to be a Daddy now. The House of El was going to have one more to their number.

Elise took a deep breath; she had everyone's attention. "It's official, you guys, the blood test came back. I'm twelve weeks pregnant."

A veritable _storm_ of congratulations followed, as she'd known it would, and Kala let Jason go so the parents could hug him as well as Elise. She ended up stepping back a little, smiling, and was surprised to find no envy in her competitive heart.

Kala and Jason had striven together and against each other literally from the womb, but she wasn't jealous of this. A little melancholy, maybe, that her life as usual wasn't following the standard path. Not much, because it was still a path she'd chosen. Someday, maybe, she wanted to be a mom. Maybe she'd adopt or something. Right now, her life was much too crazy.

Besides, she looked forward to being the cool aunt. On that thought, Kala smirked, deciding to inject a little reality into the rosy fog of felicitations. "Hey Mom," she teased. "This kid's gonna have three grandmothers. You wanna be Granny?"

Lois' response to _that_ witticism left her owing Lana more swear-jar money than Kala did.


	39. Home, Safely Tucked Away

Eventually the congratulations died down enough that Jason and Elise were able to join them for dessert, fielding questions between forkfuls of cheesecake. Lana and Lois both zeroed in on Elise, as Kala rather expected; they were the moms, after all, and she clearly wanted their advice. When Kala caught her twin's eye and nodded toward the door, the three women were deep in a discussion of Kryptonian hybrid nutrition – with Clark occasionally offering a childhood memory of odd food preferences, and Richard just listening like the fanboy he was.

Jason had started to look a little overwhelmed. Other than cooking for Elise and hopping all over the country to find whatever she was craving at the moment – mayhaw jelly wasn't even in season yet – his contributions at this point were secondary. She was the one doing the hard work of building and carrying this baby. Once it was born, he could be of more help.

And at the moment, he looked like he could use some fresh air and a pep talk from his twin. At her nod, Jason got up, and both of them went out onto the terrace. It was still unpleasantly warm in early August, but this high up they managed to catch a little breeze.

"So how was Gotham?" he asked, a little too brightly.

"Dirty, smelly, hazardous to health and sanity – much like your gym socks," Kala replied, and startled a laugh from him. "And just to make the nightmare complete, _Tim_ was there."

"Shut up, you like Tim," Jason complained, and punched her shoulder. Only the gentlest, slowest blow – they had stopped smacking at each other in earnest years ago, when she'd thrown him _through_ a door.

Kala admitted, "I _do_ like Tim. I also think he's going to grow into his computer someday. Even Dick agrees with me. You and Cassie need to drag him out more often."

"How is Dick? I don't see him often enough," Jason asked.

"Gorgeous as ever," Kala sighed, and caught him frowning at her. She mimed a smack upside his head that never connected. "Cool it, overprotective. Dick and I decided to adopt each other as siblings within the first twenty minutes. We're way too much alike. But _damn_ is he pretty. It should be against the law for him to wear that much spandex."

"Not what I was asking," Jase said, rolling his eyes.

"Yes, Dick is fine. He came home for the summer. It was just poor little me in a house full of sarcastic boys – good thing the band prepared me for _that_."

Jase sighed, and asked, "Did the band prepare you for training with Red Hood?"

She would _not_ let him see how unprepared she was for the question – or how much a fool she felt for not expecting it. He talked to Tim regularly. "Don't give me that look. It was the best use of resources," she scolded.

"Yeah, the resource that is the guy who has my name and who almost killed Tim," Jase pointed out.

"That was years ago, and Tim is mostly over it," Kala shot back, crossing her arms. "He wasn't in his right mind, either. If you had any idea of what he went through…"

"No one does, though, because the Bats keep their secrets," Jase grumbled. "For what it's worth, I know. Tim kept me updated, and when _he_ told me it was working out for the best, I believed him. According to him, you even impressed Bruce by the time you left."

Kala had to bite her lip then. No one had told _her_ that Bruce was impressed; she'd said so, but that was whistling in the dark, trying to throw the parents off what she _really_ got into this summer. And Tim had never so much as hinted that Bruce approved so heartily. "Well then, there's nothing for you to be all torqued up about," she said.

"I just worry about you," was all he said in response.

Kala decided to change the direction of the conversation. "How about you, big brother? Ready to be a dad?"

"Hell no," he replied with a sad attempt at a grin, his expression more closely resembling a dog about to be sick. "Even after all the planning, hoping, and worrying, the reality is … terrifying. We both wanted this, we really did, but knowing our situation, now the really hard part starts. Do you have any idea how many things can go wrong in a _normal_ pregnancy?"

"Way to be morbid about it," Kala replied. "You're supposed to be the optimistic twin, remember?"

"I read all of _What to Expect When You're Expecting_ the day the pregnancy test came up positive," Jase told her. "Most of it is written to be reassuring and encouraging … but holy crap, Kal. There's like, fifty different ways it could go wrong _from conception_. Not to mention if all of that goes right, there's dozens more things that can happen along the way."

"Yeah, but they're rare," Kala said stubbornly. "You and Elise are young and healthy and doing everything you can to make this the safest pregnancy on the planet. Besides, if you think you're scared, remember that Mom was alone in this with no clue at all. At least you've got a xenobiologist on-board."

"But that's just the thing, Kal, we're not entirely from this planet," he worried aloud. "Second generation hybrids are the most difficult to successfully reproduce, did you know that? It's why mules don't breed. You can get one-off hybrids, but trying to go back to either parent species causes issues with compatibility and chromosome counts and things."

"We have the same number of chromosomes as humans," Kala said.

"Yeah, but we don't entirely know how our genes will interact." He was fretting, and she hated the helpless look on his face.

Kala sighed, and grabbed his arm, pulling him into a hug. For a second, Jase stiffened in surprise, then returned the embrace. He dropped his head on her shoulder, leaning his weight against her, and she leaned into him to keep them both upright. Wrapped up in him like that, for a moment Kala could only hear her heartbeat and his, keeping pace. He smelled like his aftershave and like freshly mown hay, but more importantly, he smelled like warmth and safety and _home_.

She could only hope she smelled the same to him. "I love you, Dopey," Kala murmured.

"I love you too, Elvira," he replied with a half-laugh. Jase drew back a little, but his smile was a little easier now. "Sorry. It's just getting to me. This isn't statistics, this is _us_ , it's real. And … you know, it hasn't been easy. We've been trying for a while. The last time we thought we were pregnant, it was just a false positive."

Kala cocked her head and looked at him. "Did you get an ultrasound yet?" she asked.

"No," Jason told her. "And I haven't looked with x-ray vision, either. I've seen ultrasounds before; this early, I wouldn't really know what I was looking at, and I don't want to freak Elise out. Besides I _hate_ looking inside people. Things … glurble." Jason shuddered.

Patting his shoulder, Kala chuckled. "Yup, there's a reason you're not in medicine, Captain Queasy," she teased gently. "Look, do you want me to take a peak? Or a listen, at least?"

He looked so torn, wanting to _know_ already, and yet if the news was bad he wanted _not_ to know that yet. Finally, he said, "Yes? I mean, if Elise agrees."

"Okay then," Kala told him, and kissed her brother's cheek affectionately.

She walked back in to a spirited discussion of labor that was making even the famously stoic Elise start to sweat. "Get an epidural, is what I'm hearing," Kala said breezily.

Lois snorted. "No luck for me with you two. _Lana_ here was all about natural birth, until it actually happened. Then she grabbed the nurse and growled ' _Give me_ _ **all**_ _the drugs_ ' like some kind of psycho."

"Pregnancy hormones can literally drive you crazy," Lana said. "That aside, yes, if I'd had it to do over again, I would've gone for the drugs much earlier. I had six stitches." She shuddered at the memory.

Kala watched the slight delay as the three men in the room realized where those stitches had to've been, and winced. Lois just rolled her eyes. "I kept thinking these two would pop out with superpowers and kill me like that freakish thing from _Alien_. And I couldn't even blame Richard, I watched that movie on my own. I didn't even care about how bad the tearing was until the next day. Although, with twins, I got a little lucky – they're usually born smaller than singletons."

"Lucky you," Lana muttered. "Kristin had to be an overachiever."

"So," Kala said, eyeing Elise. "Do you want an early ultrasound? Or at least a Super-check on the fetal heartbeat? Because my dear brother is dithering, and he's too squeamish to look for himself."

"Have you ever _seen_ a nasal polyp? Or a gallbladder doing its thing?" Jason complained.

"Yes. It's gross. I've seen worse," Kala shot back. "Elise?"

She blinked, then shrugged. "Sure, I guess. Do you know what you're looking for?"

"No, but I can listen for a rhythm and follow … that…" Kala trailed off, already listening. The human body produced a surprising amount of noise, and not just from the ever-active digestive system. Slurps and squelches and whooshes everywhere, when she focused, but the heartbeat ruled them all.

Elise's heart, steady and strong, beating a little faster in anticipation. Below that, fainter, more whoosh than thump, and there was something weird about it. "Hey Dad?" Kala asked. "Do fetal heartbeats echo?"

"No," Clark said, frowning, and he looked at Elise too.

"What is it?" Jason said nervously.

Kala was already looking, too, seeing past layers of skin and muscle to the viscera. A flash of memory hit her, Jay's informant flayed open, but no, everything was on the inside where it belonged, Elise was safe. She forced herself to focus, finding the uterus, looking for something about the size of a plum.

She thought she found it, then realized those must be kidneys, since there were two of them. But wait, kidneys were located higher up and further apart. These two were close together, encased in sacs, each one with a steady flutter of motion… "Dad?!" she yipped.

" _What is it?_ " Elise demanded, grabbing the edge of the table.

"Congratulations," Clark said, sounding stunned as he also looked. "Elise, it looks like you're having twins."

For a long moment Elise could only stare at him, then at Kala, who nodded. She turned on Jason then. "This is all on you, hotshot. Twins run in _your_ family."

"We're gonna be changing _so many diapers_ ," Jason whimpered.

"Wait'll they're about three and running around wreaking havoc," Richard laughed. "Well, kids, I'd crack open a bottle of champagne, but alcohol's off the table for the main celebrant here."

"Celebrant?" Elise said weakly. "Ohh boy, I am _so_ not ready for this. _One_ ; one, I was ready for. But two. I don't think I'd be ready for two at thirty."

"I wasn't ready for it when I had Kristin, either," Lana told her, as Lois reached out to take Elise's hand. "You have a husband who loves you and a family who will help and support you. Elise, you're going to be fine."

"You're gonna be a great mom," Kala said, kicking the reflexive hint of jealousy back out of her head. "And I am gonna be the best aunt ever."

Elise smiled at her, still stunned but beginning to be excited and proud. "I'll remember that when we need help with 2 AM feedings."

"That's when she sneaks back home and raids the fridge anyway," Lois teased. "Let her make herself useful."

Kala stuck her tongue out at her mother, but she rumpled Jason's hair and hugged Elise. "It's gonna be fine. Jor-El will be thrilled that you're so committed to increasing the population."

"I don't take advice from the Giant Floating Head," Elise joked.

The rest of the evening had Elise and Jason at center stage, with Kala gratefully playing a supporting role. She had time to think about it, and know that her twinge of jealousy was just a stupid remnant of sibling rivalry. She absolutely _did not_ want or need a child right now. She didn't even have a relationship – not that that was strictly necessary, Aunt Cat had adopted as a single mother. But she and Sebast struggled with _houseplants,_ for crying out loud. A kid was too much, especially given how complicated things were.

Jason and Elise having twins would give her ample chances to spoil a baby or two, and yet still be able to sleep the whole night through whenever she wanted. So Kala found herself unreservedly happy for them both.

And already planning to annoy her brother with matching Godzilla onesies.

…

Jay knew he was nowhere _near_ qualified to be responsible for this, but it had fallen on him. And he'd walked away from enough in his life, he didn't want to do it again. Those kids were looking to _him_ to make things right. Not to save them, they were too proud for that, and too many people had already tried.

Dinah had told him about her pizza runs. They had electricity on in the building now, after knocking out the exterior lights, and there were six battered old laptops the kids could use. Julio, Carl, and a couple others were working on their GEDs. Everybody had been through the free clinic, too, and Jay had ground his teeth to learn at least one of the kids was in rehab.

Three of them had left, just slipped out and never come back. Jay worried, but it was their choice. He couldn't hold them there; that'd be as bad as the foster homes he'd been sent to. He had never wanted to be anyone's proof of martyrdom, and figured these kids would react about as well as he did to being tossed into some nice family who wanted to show off how much good they were doing, taking in a street rat.

Still, the group that remained was hanging together, and he owed them a shot at a halfway decent life. He just didn't know how to _do_ that. And he couldn't be their protector. If word got out that Red Hood had a handful of teenage kids looking up to him, there'd be a target on all of them.

Luckily he knew someone who took in strays, and she owed him a favor. Jay had let Selina know he was _not_ pleased about the cameras planted in his bunker, but she'd just grinned at him. Still, when he told her he'd forgive her for that if she helped him with something, she showed some interest.

Now they were breaking into the kids' flophouse, on which Jay and Dinah had installed a little security, but nothing could keep Catwoman out if she wanted in. At least there were cameras around, and Jay knew Babs was keeping an eye on them too. They came in via the roof, carefully, since Dinah said she'd been met with weapons every time.

Jay had worn his domino despite them all seeing his face before; clean-shaven, his features were more defined, and the fewer opportunities they had to study him, the better. Selina wore her own mask of course, and she ghosted by his side as they eased down the stairs toward the main living space.

"There's nothing here worth stealing," a bold, angry voice proclaimed from the floor below them, and they both froze. "Get out before we kick you out," came another voice, higher.

Julio and Carl. Jay grinned. "Relax, it's Tommy," he said, ignoring Selina's snickers at the name. "I brought a friend."

"Is it the cute blonde?" one of the other boys called, and Jay heard some chuckles below.

"If you knew who the cute blonde was, you'd piss yourself," Jay said, trotting down the stairs lightly. Every kid had some kind of weapon – baseball bat, tire iron, golf club – that they were lowering as he arrived. "Also she's way too old for you guys."

"Dinah will _love_ hearing how old she is," Selina snarked, and paused as they all caught sight of her. She stood on the steps, letting the kids goggle in surprise.

"Dude, Dinah was raising _Roy_ , and he's older than me," Jay replied. "Just 'cause she doesn't look it doesn't mean she's not _way_ out of their league. Also, no one here is _remotely_ capable of dealing with her girlfriend."

"Oh, I'll agree to that, you and I included," Selina chuckled. "So, here we are. Be civil, 'Tommy', introduce me to your friends."

He did, giving the kids' names and introducing her as Catwoman. "Which you can tell, obviously. Lenny, quit staring, she knows how to use that whip."

"And none of you want to deal with _my_ boyfriend," Selina laughed. "Speaking of which, Tommy, does _he_ know about them?"

Jay couldn't help answering heatedly. "Are they in foster care? No, he doesn't, and he's not gonna. His fuckin' martyr complex won't do them any good. And I don't wanna see any of them shoved into a Robin costume either."

"Good call," Selina said. "So, you guys are basically safe. You've got shelter, food, clothes, and the beginnings of an education. 'Tommy' knows I look after kids on my beat, so he asked me to keep an eye on you, help you out where I can."

"Yeah, don't thieves usually work in gangs?" Julio asked, eyeing her.

Selina grinned. "Where do you think I learned my impressive array of skills? But I work alone these days. I don't need proteges. And honestly, if you _want_ to learn thieves' skills, I'll teach you. It's not as easy as it used to be, though, and not as much fun. You can make more money selling empty iPhone boxes on eBay than you can stealing the actual phones. The fun stuff is all on my level, and it'll take years to get there."

"Everything fun takes years to get there," Carl grumbled.

"Well yeah, that's life," Selina replied with a shrug. "The only fast roads out of this heap are bad ones, like drugs and hooking. And lemme tell you, if you have any idea who 'Tommy' is and what he usually does, you won't start dealing. Too easy to get killed. Same with hooking, really. Dealers kill each other, pimps and johns kill hookers."

"Yeah, 'cause you know so much about hooking," Julio scoffed. Jay cut his eyes at the boy; he was too old to really be hanging around street corners, looking too adult, but he had to know some of the rest were doing it.

Selina hopped up onto the stair rail and sat there, swinging her feet. "Well, yes. I do. I got myself into a special niche, hence the whip. But look, if you think none of us vigilantes have any idea what your life is like, you're off the mark. A lot of the people you see in masks fighting the bad guys, we're not exactly soccer moms and trust fund babies. A few are, but most of us came up hard. We do this to try and stop other people from having to go through it. And if you want out, if you don't want to grow up to be a gangster or a whore or a dealer, then you have to work your ass off."

She paused to meet their eyes. "It's not fair. Life isn't. Without someone looking out for you, you could do everything right and _still_ get fucked over, because bad luck happens. But you guys _do_ have someone looking out for you, several someones, and you have a chance to get out the right way, so someday your friends or your spouse or your kids will never have to know you were in a spot like this. Go to college, if you want, or trade school."

"How come you're not trying to send us back home?" Carl challenged, glaring at her.

"If you wanna go home, we'll help you do that," Jay said quietly. "But some of you don't have homes to go to. Not decent ones anyway." There weren't _that_ many reasons why a girl of fourteen would choose living on the street and pretending to be a boy over living at home, and Carl wasn't on drugs. None of the remaining options was pretty.

Selina was looking closely at Carl, and her expression softened. "Nothing that happened to you kids was your fault. Even if you think it was. Adults are supposed to take care of kids, protect them from bad stuff. A lot of adults really, _really_ suck at that. Some of them _are_ the bad stuff. If being here is less shitty than being at home, the least Tommy and I and our friends can do is trying to keep you guys moving in a progressively less-shitty direction."

Her voice got wistful. "Someday you'll look back on this and be amazed that you were ever here, 'cause it'll seem like a bad dream. When that happens, try to help someone else. Til then, keep your head down, work hard, and get the hell out. Maybe someday this'll be that story you drag out at parties, about how you met Catwoman that one time." She grinned then, and hopped down.

"Right," Jay said. "So, for now, while you're getting schooling and stuff, you're not charity cases, okay? The people running on rooftops need to know what's going on in the street. So keep us up to date on the rumors. Black Mask is down for the count, but someone else will move in. They always do. The sooner we know about it, the sooner we can shut it down."

"None of Black Mask's people died when you took them down," Julio said, his expression making it a question.

"Yeah, well, I ran out of bullets," Jay growled. "Doesn't make me a good guy."

"Also you had the Blur in on it," Selina chipped in helpfully. "Lot easier to take people to jail instead of the morgue when you've got a super-fast meta running around tying them up as soon as you knock them down."

Jay glared at her, and she grinned. "I'd put Mask in the morgue, given the chance, for what he did to a friend of mine. But that'd send my dear Bat into hysterics."

He couldn't help scoffing at _that_. Whatever would Bruce do if _both_ of his main love interests turned out to be killers? "He'll get his eventually," was all Jay said, before turning sharp eyes on Julio. "Why's it matter that nobody died?"

The boy met his gaze, and it was like looking through time at himself. Always so defensive, always so ready to be angry, and the more outgunned he was, the sharper his temper grew. No wonder he couldn't leave these kids to their fates.

But Julio had a little more sense than Jay had, at that age, because he just shrugged. "I dunno. We don't really _know_ you. Word on the street is you're a killer and a crime boss. And yet you're tryin' to look out for us? Maybe you have a motive."

Carl spoke up then, looking steadily at Jay. "Or maybe you really _are_ one of the good guys."

"My body count's too high for that," Jay growled, glowering at her. He stepped closer, letting his height and size intimidate, and all the kids fell back. Jay hated that, hated that it was necessary, hated that they feared him so readily, hated himself for not being the hero they wanted him to be. _Heroes got regular people killed._ The last thing he wanted was to see any of these faces in the news. So Jay did what he always did – what had to be done, never mind the cost. "Don't make me some kinda white knight just 'cause I wasn't gonna let that scumbag Wiley rape a little girl. Even the bad guys have lines they won't cross, most of them. Doesn't mean I can't go out and fuckin' throw a drug dealer off a roof later tonight. Or beat a pimp to death with my bare hands. Doesn't mean knowing who I am won't get you killed and cut into little pieces – in that order, if you're lucky – and tossed in the bay."

Selina cut in then, her tone dry. "The point is getting all of you guys _out_ of here. Out of the Bowery, out of the East End, maybe out of Gotham. Who cares if it's good guys or bad guys helping you? We're not asking a whole lot in return, and once you're gone, we want you to stay gone. Not hang around fluffing our egos and running errands for us like Black Mask's flunkies."

Julio was watching Jay carefully, having moved a little to place himself in front of Carl. "We can handle that," he said quietly. "Anybody who can't handle it, we're not on lockdown here. We can always leave, try our luck somewhere else. But this place stays safe."

"All right then," Jay said, rolling his shoulders to shrug off the tension. "I've got other business. You need anything, call the number Dinah gave you. Or tell Catwoman. She'll take care of you."

Selina turned to him with a little smile. "Of course. Taking care of feral kittens is right up my alley."

Jay took his leave then, and as he went, he heard Selina telling Julio, "First things first, if someone _does_ come busting in here, let's make sure you can keep each other safe. Self-defense, Gotham back-alley style."

His mouth quirked up in a grin. Yeah, there was a chance that they'd wind up as a gang of thieves, but it was better than stealing tires. And he'd left them in the hands of someone who wouldn't well-meaningly fuck it up, like Bruce would.

…

The deciding factor on Kala and Sebast buying this house together had been its garage, which had sufficient power for their instruments – and decent acoustics. They could afford studio time now, but for their first session together after the long summer apart, Sebast wanted to just jam in the garage.

So did Kala. Getting back to their roots, when it was just them and the music, was always a good thing. So they ran through a few songs off the last album, then swung into their favorite covers. Sebast put an absolutely _filthy_ spin on a song called 'Tonight (I'm Loving You)', which was already pretty dirty on its own. Kala countered with 'Gods and Monsters', swaying her hips with the beat as she closed her eyes and sang.

"That was smokin' hot," Sebast said, when the last note died away. "Goddamn, _mi_ Kala, you spend the summer practicing ways to drive our fans crazy?"

"No, that's you," she laughed, keeping her tone light. "Is 'Tonight' a summary of your summer activities, Sebast?"

"Not really," he admitted with a shrug. "Los Angeles is too damn _fake_. Fake tans, capped teeth, dyed hair, everybody there just looks … plastic. I didn't have as much fun as I thought. But you, now – Gotham is pretty much the land of monsters. Was _your_ song choice autobiographical? _Mi_ _à_ _ngel?_ " He waggled his brows at her, making it clear that the question was a joke based on the lyrics.

Kala still thought there might be a ghost of true interest in the question, and she bridled at it. "For your information, I didn't get laid the whole summer. I _could've_ , but I didn't. Dick Grayson is too much like a big brother to me, and Tim's just a friend."

Sebast rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. "Dammit, woman, I'm gonna have to teach you how to be a better slut. All those pretty men and you didn't fuck _one_ of them? I'm ashamed of you. Hell, I'm horrified."

She sighed long-sufferingly at him. "More for you, Chupi. Just think of it as more for you."

"Nice to see you guys acting normal again," Ned said, half-smiling at them.

"What do you mean? We're the most normal people in this band," Sebast replied.

"Yeah, you were both weird as hell yesterday at the airport," the drummer shot back. "And last night. Whatever you needed to talk about, I'm glad you got it over with."

Sebast crossed his arms and cocked his head, as Kala tried to look innocent. They _hadn't_ talked about any of the things plaguing her mind, but they weren't gonna, either. Her brother's news had been an effective distraction. So she started coughing when Sebast said, "Is it 'cause I kissed her at the airport? _Mijo_ , we've been sleeping in the same bed for years, I already know my cootie infection is terminal. It's no big deal."

"Forgive me and my girl cooties," Kala wheezed, hoping her surprise was passing for laughter.

Sebast flashed a grin at her. "Or are you jealous, Ned? You want a smooch, too? C'mere, Skellington, I'll give you a kiss." He made obnoxious smooching noises while Ned rolled his eyes and pretended to throw his drumsticks at Sebast.

"Oh come on," Robb said at last. "You missed Kala, we all know it, she's home now and it's good. Don't be dramatic."

"It's called flamboyant," Sebast told him, still laughing.

"We all missed Kala," Morgan put in. "Sebast was just depressed she didn't bring him home a spare Wayne boy."

"I know, right?" Sebast laughed. "You couldn't fit just _one_ in your luggage?"

They teased each other a little more, settling into _almost_ the same flow as before. It wasn't quite a perfect fit, but a couple weeks on tour would knock the sharp edges off of everyone. It had happened before, and in a way, Kala welcomed it.

Eventually they trooped into the house proper and sat around eating the night before last's pizza. Kala wanted to keep them off of asking about her summer – the discussion she'd had with her parents _would not_ fly here – and so she shared the good news she'd picked up.

"Guess who's gonna be an aunt next year?" she singsonged, and after the inevitable shock, they all got together to record themselves yelling _'Congratulations on the sex!'_ on Sebast's phone. He sent the file to Jason, snickering.

If there was one constant in Kala's life as a musician and part of this band, it was the endless, _endless_ trolling. Everyone was a potential target, family members definitely included, and Kala knew Jase would roll his eyes when he got that voicemail.

They had done most of their catching up the night Kala came back, but business stuff had been left until today. And they were leaving on tour the end of the week. So it was time to decide which songs they wanted to practice; they usually did covers as encores. Kala wanted to include Voodoo in the lineup. She thought of that song – and Jay's eyes on her as she danced – every time she picked up her phone to return his call. But somehow, she kept not calling, not knowing what to say to his voicemail. Kala knew how she felt, jumbled up and overwhelmed and more than a little afraid of the mix of excitement and hesitant fear, but was in terror of owning it, of saying it and ruining everything. Saying the words might ruin everything even before it had happened. And there was no time. They were out of time. And yet, the thought of him continued to haunt her.

Sebast jumped on the idea, eyes sparkling. His enthusiasm and Kala's own reminiscing were almost enough to distract her from the fact that none of them had commented on the new tour manager, Derek, whom they had all met and Kala hadn't so much as seen.

…

Kala thought she had everyone fooled, but Sebast knew better. Something had changed while she was in Gotham.

He'd really thought it was a guy. Not Dick Grayson, she'd talked about him too much. Maybe the little brother, Tim Drake? Maybe someone else only loosely connected to the Waynes? She had avoided his calls way more than ever before in their lives, and for Kala _not_ to want every second of time with him she could get was the weirdest part of all.

Maybe it was part of the same thing that he'd watched happen with her and Jason, as they'd slowly grown up and apart. They were no longer just 'the twins' to everyone who knew them, and there were now people in the world who only knew one of the pair and not the other. Which only made sense, they were two separate people, but having met them in their early teens, Sebast had thought they could never be apart for long.

He'd thought that about himself and Kala, too.

Sebast knew what people assumed, if they only knew them superficially. His only serious ex, Javier, had said it loud and clear and enviously: Sebast and Kala might as well be married. They owned a _house_ together, for fuck's sake. The thing was, Javier had harped on their closeness so much because he thought they were screwing behind his back, a paranoid jealousy caused by the fact that _Javier_ was the one cheating. For which Sebast had never forgiven him.

He knew that was why he'd stuck to one-night or one-weekend stands ever since. If life was a video game, he was putting all his relationship points into his friendship with Kala. _That_ had always been solid, they'd had each other's backs all through high school and the tumultuous early years with the band. Sebast would've thought that nothing could shake their bond.

He even knew what the one thing that had finally screwed it up had been: that one night they got a little _too_ drunk, celebrating their sold-out tour dates a little _too_ much, and they'd fallen in bed together. Well no, they'd shared a bed a lot on the road, what messed it up had been finally having sex.

Sex, for Sebast, was usually casual fun. He'd stirred emotions into it once, and gotten badly burned for it, so he kept it light from then on out. There were so many hot boys in the world, he could cheerfully sample a little here, a little there, and keep himself thoroughly satisfied. At least, in terms of just sex. When it came to a real human connection, though, he had Kala. Someone to go to movies with, someone to wake up beside, someone to talk about the future, someone to see through his bullshit and keep him from believing his own legend … all Kala, all the time.

And he'd gone and fucked that all up by dancing her around the room in celebration, Kala laughing in his arms. They'd been shopping and spending too much of their advance, drinking at the fancy restaurant they'd gone to, then drinking in the hotel bar, and then polishing off the bottle in their room, getting smashed like real rock stars. He'd stumbled, they both fell onto the bed, and Sebast had kissed her. Not the first time, not the last, they'd kissed each other briefly in affection, and kissed long and sensually onstage for their fans' benefit. But that kiss was slower, sweeter, more thorough than ever before. It was the first time he heard her gasp in surprise, and the first time he felt her body arch under him. The first time his hands on her had become possessive, catching her hips fiercely. So Sebast decided what the hell, Kala was already in his heart and on his mind, and the only right way to end a day this spectacular day was to get righteously laid. Why not? Why not follow this as far as it would go? They trusted each other with everything else, why not this one thing?

There'd been once chance to stop it, just one moment with her blouse half off already, and Kala's eyes on him hot enough to sear, but she'd asked in a shaky voice, "What do you think you're doing?" A little soft from the liquor, but the tremor in her tone was desire, not confusion.

And Sebast, to his eternal damnation, had given her his best Latino Smolder look, the look that woke bi-curiosity in the straightest men, and purred, "You." It was a foregone conclusion from there, and it was actually pretty damn good. There were distinct advantages to sex with women, at least if the woman in question was Kala. There were differences that he would've found weird with anyone else, but this was _Kala_. With her, everything new was intriguing, a new flavor on his jaded palate. And the way they danced together in absolute sync, that translated _perfectly_ into sex.

Of course, in the morning, all the 'why nots' came back to him. Because sex _wasn't_ casual for Kala, she didn't usually do it unless the person meant something to her, and the one time she'd broken that rule it had gone south on her. She never scolded him or the boys for their escapades, but her personal taste ran to meaningful sex. Also because Kala wasn't someone he could fuck and run, she was going to be there the morning after and the day after and the _month_ after, and he'd have to look at her and remember that night.

It was _extra_ awkward because, the morning after, Kala was desperately trying to pretend nothing unusual had happened. She woke before him, as always, and had started coffee before going down to the free continental breakfast, returning with waffles and muffins. Her smile was too broad, her eyes were too bright, and Sebast _knew her_. He knew she was close to freaking out.

Which meant it probably wasn't as good for her as it had been for him – and that stung his pride a little. Maybe there had been a bit too much exploration, not enough of whatever she needed. Probably she was freaking out because it had been _him_ , and she'd told Javier that he was like a brother to her.

To spare Kala any guilt or any gross squicky feelings, Sebast had pretended that nothing happened. The same way she was pretending. They picked up their lives from before that one night, and never spoke of it. A couple weeks later he was back to picking up the handsomest of their groupies, and she was back in bed with Marlene again after their usual off-tour break. Business as usual.

They never got quite _that_ drunk together again, either.

Sebast had thought they'd put the incident behind them, that their normal lives could resume, when she'd suddenly _had_ to go spend the summer in Gotham. That rankled; it was a family problem she couldn't explain, and the Lane-Kents had a few too many of those for Sebast's tastes. If they had been anyone other than who they were, if Mr. Kent in particular wasn't such a poster boy for good guys everywhere, Sebast would've wondered if they were involved in the mob or something. There were too many conversations that stopped when someone outside the immediate family walked in, or were couched in such vague terms that they could mean anything. And everyone was okay with Kala suddenly dropping _everything_ for two and a half months to go live in fucking _Wayne Manor_.

Who the fuck _does_ that?

He hadn't even known that her family was tight with the Waynes like that, but then, the Wayne family was one of the wealthiest in the nation. They kept all their business buttoned up as tight as possible. Sebast would've thought that was the connection, Lana's money and her having lived in Gotham, but the way everyone talked it was Lois and Clark who somehow knew Bruce Wayne.

Maybe he'd been looking at the whole thing wrong. It was easy to forget Lana was a millionaire. Just like it was easy to forget Lois had won a Pulitzer. They were as close to him as a second family, and Sebast had long ago gotten used to their quirks. For the most part, they were fairly normal, despite the co-parenting and Kala's Super godfather. They fussed back and forth just like his own family, and always had each other's backs, too.

He could get used to anything, except Kala disappearing for _that_ long.

She'd come back different, and he believed her, it wasn't a guy. Or a girl. Kala had more of an _edge_ to her now. He knew about the karate lessons, and one time when some idiot tried to grab her as they headed backstage, Sebast had seen her whip a guy twice her size to the floor in one fluid move. Now, though, Kala automatically scanned every room they entered, her eyes darting to doors and windows. Only for the first few seconds, but she looked like some kind of Old West cowboy sizing up a saloon before a fight.

Sebast was still wondering what had happened in Gotham when they started out on their new tour. Kala was drooping, the brief respite between the summer away and their tour dates not enough time for her to catch up. They would at least have the holidays; she insisted on time off the tour for everyone to be with their families. And if the boys couldn't or didn't want to make it home for the holidays, she always invited them to her family's huge Thanksgiving celebration.

Everyone was helping the roadies load their luggage on the tour bus, a new model this year with a little more room. Kala and Sebast had shaken hands with the driver first, and spoken to the support crew, some of whom had worked with them before. For those who hadn't, she wanted to establish KLK firmly as non-divas. Which was another reason why they helped load the cargo compartment.

At least, until the tour manager turned up. Their previous manager, Marlene, had shepherded them all along as if she were their favorite aunt taking them on a road trip. Well, except Kala, but that was complicated. Marlene was always right in the middle of them from the first, adapting to their style while still insisting they follow her rules for safety and courtesy. _All_ of them had loved her.

The new manager was Derek, and he reminded Sebast of that one uncle everyone avoided at family gatherings. He was a decent-looking guy, except he had no chin, and his eyes always seemed a little too wide, as if he were on the verge of having a complete meltdown.

Which he did, as soon as he saw Kala and the boys toting luggage. "Stop!" Derek yelled, hustling over to them. The tone had made Robb and Morgan drop their bags; Ned and Sebast just turned to look at him. They'd met the man before, and knew this tour was going to be challenging. Derek was a micro-manager.

Kala seemed to be a little distracted; she'd pulled up at his call, but she was looking around, trying to see who he was yelling at. So of course, he went right up to her, nattering about unions and how talent couldn't shift luggage, that was the roadies' job. Sebast saw the moment when she realized he was talking to _her_ , and she looked at him in disbelief, flabbergasted at the onslaught of words.

Then he tried to grab the microphone stand she was carrying out of her hands.

Her reaction was immediate and unmistakable. She swung around on him, bringing the stand up and across her body, and her eyes blazed. For one long second, Sebast honestly believed she was going to start whaling on the poor dumb bastard.

He had seen her finish a fight or two. Kids at Stalmaster _never_ fought on school grounds, since that would get you immediately expelled, but there had been a couple times when someone Kala cared about had been jumped on the way home. Sebast knew she was perfectly willing and _very_ capable of knocking down a guy twice her size. The one time it was Jason, who'd reported someone trying to cheat off his test and who had _three_ boys attack him, Kala had come out of it with bloody knuckles and the boys in question probably still lived in fear of her.

Sebast had never seen her _start_ a fight, and as rude as Derek was to try snatching the stand from her, he never would've expected Kala to answer it with violence. He leaned back, shocked, as her lip curled up in an expression so fierce any sane person would've run away.

Derek did jump backwards, looking astounded, and the next second that wrathful sneer was gone as if it had never been. "Okay, look, I just spent my summer in Gotham, the mugging capital of the U.S.," Kala said, her voice flat with anger. "Do _not_ run up on me and yank something from me, or I'll have to apologize to my sensei for bad form."

"That is absolutely…" Derek began, stunned.

" _Do not run up on me,_ " Kala repeated hotly. "I warned you, if you do it again and you get hurt, it's your fault. I am telling you now that I'm a blue belt and if you try to grab at me, I'll fuck you up out of _reflex_. Got it?"

He drew himself up, glaring, and said, "I _am_ your tour manager, young lady."

Kala looked at Sebast, who shrugged. "Seriously?" she asked, and he nodded. Weird as this was, it might just be entertaining.

She rounded on Derek again, setting the stand aside and moving deliberately into his space. "Knock off the 'young lady' crap, too. You are not my father, my teacher, or even technically my boss. We are _all_ here to try and make this tour run as smoothly as possible, and that will only happen if we work together. So don't treat me, my band, or our crew like children."

Sebast grinned; she wanted to tear him a new one, but realized mid-rant that they were all stuck on a bus together for six months. So she was trying to be politic about it. Kala _could_ be a good leader, deferential and conciliatory, but it wasn't her natural state of being. She was a goddamn _rock star_ , her instinct was blaze her own path and damn the haters.

But their band _was_ a business, and she had better sense than to burn bridges. At least, not so soon. So while Derek stared at her like she'd grown another head, she continued, "Last I checked, union regs don't forbid us to help moving our own equipment and luggage. And the road staff have never minded a little assistance, either. It helps us all remember the days when we had to lug _everything_ , and drive too, and do all the scheduling and hotel booking and food runs ourselves. A tour like this, with a good team on board? It's as smooth as anything in this industry can be. So we try to stay grateful. Right, boys?"

"Yes, ma'am," Sebast said, throwing her a salute, which the other three quickly echoed. Kala looked at them, rolled her eyes, and gave a sigh before picking up the stand and getting back to loading the bus.

Derek hadn't summoned the wherewithal to speak yet when Sebast walked past him, but Ned was at the end of the line. He was the one who answered when Derek muttered, "What's her _problem_?" and all Ned replied was, "You."

Sebast would've been a little more circumspect, and as he headed back to grab another bag he tried to do damage control. "Really don't grab stuff from her or run up on her," he said quietly. "She's had some bad shit happen to her, and she won't let it happen again. So just be civil, it'll be okay."

He didn't believe that himself, having dealt with Derek's attitude before, but he could hope. If Derek was determined to control every little thing they all did, Kala would _not_ put up with it. And if what just happened was any indication, her bullshit tolerance was at an all-time low.

The last two tours had been like family vacations, almost; everyone got on each other's nerves once in a while, but mostly they had fun. This … this was shaping up to be a road trip from hell, and they hadn't left the parking lot yet.

Robb saw the worried look on his face, and asked, "You okay, Sebast?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he told the bassist, and clapped his shoulder amiably. "Just reminding myself my parents wanted me to join the Army. This is better." As long as he kept _that_ lovely alternative in mind, the uneasy feeling in his gut stayed quiet.

…

Dinah partially woke up when Babs sat up beside her. She was drowsily aware of the redhead reaching for the glasses case atop her nightstand, which was a custom-designed marvel of efficiency. The drawers slid out at a slight push instead of having knobs to pull, and each one had a locking lid that required Babs' handprint to open. It was a pain in the ass when Dinah went looking for the remote that controlled the lights, stereo, tv, ceiling fan, and blinds, but since Babs' phone, tablet, and laptop were in there, the security was justified.

It was the phone she took out, Dinah noticed, and started to slide back toward sleep. Usually a call or text in the middle of the night was something Dinah could ignore until morning. Babs must've heard the phone chirp; she got alerts from her various sources at all hours of the day and night, never willing to unplug from the flow of information for long. The hour Dinah had managed earlier was about as good as it got, and she smiled sleepily in the satisfaction of being a _very_ good distraction.

Her drowsy good humor shattered a moment later. Babs had opened the bottom drawer, unlocked the safe, and taken out her gun. The clack of the magazine sliding home, and the sharp snick of a round being chambered, woke Dinah _all_ the way up in a hurry.

She found herself in a crouch, adrenaline dumped into her bloodstream so fast she didn't even remember throwing off the covers or snatching up the spare set of escrima sticks from her own, much more low-tech, nightstand.

Babs hit a button recessed into the side of her nightstand, and a hushed series of clanks came from the windows as steel shutters came down over them. Dinah heard metallic thunks throughout the Clock Tower as all the doors' magnetic locks engaged. The cameras that were _everywhere_ turned on, panning and scanning. Every door and window had a series of infrared sensors arranged to catch any breach, and even though _those_ at least made no noise, Dinah knew from experience that they'd just switched on.

In other words, they'd just gone from normal security – Bat normal, anyway, an oxymoron if ever one existed – to ultra-paranoid red alert.

No one else was in the room, or the tower, because no motion alarms went off. Dinah breathed out, trying to calm her jangling nerves.

After listening a moment, Babs clicked the safety on her Glock, setting it down with the muzzle pointing toward the foot of the bed. "We're all right, I think," she said.

Dinah glanced at the alarm clock and saw it was five-thirty AM. "Well good morning to you, too," she said with a shaky laugh. "Why did I get involved with a Bat? Only with _you_ do I wake up to the sound of a round being chambered _right beside my freakin'_ _ **head**_."

"If anyone else chambered a round in this room, you wouldn't have time to worry about it," Babs said dryly.

Dinah gave her a cross look, settling back down – but she kept the sticks close by, even if her hands were shaking. It was hard to come back down after getting spun up so fast, and all that adrenaline left her jittery. "Babs, honey, my point is, you scared the _hell_ outta me. You're lucky I didn't scream on general principles."

Normally Babs took the Canary Cry very seriously, as something she absolutely did not want to personally experience again. Now she barely reacted to the warning.

Instead, she said quietly, "As the commissioner's daughter, I have certain perks. This is one of them." And with that, she showed Dinah the alert on her phone that had caused her to reach for the gun _before_ locking down their security.

Dinah sucked in a breath as she read it, suddenly feeling light-headed. "Oh, _fuck_. Not him. Not again."

On the screen were three simple, chilling words: _Joker escaped Arkham._


	40. Of Lovers and Madmen

**Authors' Note:** We are posting a little early, since tomorrow is going to be a busy day for many of us. We hope the season brings you all plenty of joy and wonder.

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It was an otherwise ordinary Tuesday, and Kala was painting her nails and looking forward to a night during which she didn't have to go onstage or get up at four in the morning to head to the next location. Touring life was grueling, especially with a ridiculous schedule and a sub-par tour manager. She'd never missed Marlene so much.

The boys were all out doing some promotion for the label, which currently felt that Kala was slightly over-exposed and they needed to shift the focus to the boys. Something about getting a makeover for Robb, which Kala knew would go over just fantastically. The moment someone asked him to take the safety pin out of his ear, _that_ little project would screech to a halt.

At least it left her with peace and quiet. Running around with a pack of boys was fun, and great practice for the summer that had just passed, but she could've lived without knowing that _Morgan_ of all people could belch the entire Happy Birthday song, if given enough ginger ale.

To be honest, though, it wasn't the boys that left her craving some quiet time. The concert schedule this time was insane. Marlene had fought for down-time for the band, and pushed back against the label during the scheduling phase, but this time around, Kala hadn't been present, and the producers had chosen the concert schedule without much input from the band members. They were singing every other night on the East Coast, making this a whirlwind tour with no time to recover, supposedly in order to grant Kala's demand for two weeks off at Christmas. And Derek, the new tour manager, had no sense of humor, couldn't adapt to the band, and kept nagging them to do things _his_ way. Kala could spare a shred of pity for him; it must've sucked to keep hearing how Marlene had done things differently, and how much better touring with her had been. Still, if he could've just taken the ship's mast out of his colon and maybe cracked a smile and quit looking at them all like they might be cannibals…

Her phone chirped then, interrupting her mental ranting, and Kala only barely managed to pick it up without messing up her nails. The text message she saw chilled her blood and drove all thoughts of the band out of her head.

 _Poker tournament in town tonight. Need your help setting up._

The number didn't matter; it would change within the hour. Kala knew exactly who'd sent it: Oracle. And the code was the one she'd hoped she'd never have to answer. 'Poker' always meant a major threat; 'tournament' meant multiple locations or multiple foes. 'Need your help' meant Babs was calling in everyone she could get her hands on, which meant they were either facing something major or working on a tight deadline, or both. In any case, it sucked. Hard.

For a fleeting nanosecond, Kala thought of bowing out. She could blame the tour, or the label, or … but no. She was a Super. Supers weren't cowards, they didn't skitter away when people needed them. Not even on their only night off that week, not even when they only had a few months of training and felt woefully unprepared for the task at hand. Not even when she'd never replied to Jay's voicemail on her phone, not having the faintest idea what to say to him then or now.

Blowing a quick blast of super-breath on her nails, Kala froze the paint job, and sent a quick message before getting changed, tugging her tank top over her head on the way. _On my way. Who's dealing?_ At least then she'd have some idea what to expect. Only some villains had codes, but she knew Babs could figure a way to tell her what was up.

Her uniform was stashed in a secret compartment of her luggage, and Kala got dressed in seconds. Sliding the mask into place and yanking her gloves on, she looked at the phone for Oracle's reply.

"Oh _fuck_ ," she whispered.

…

The second the damn thing started screaming at him, Jay groped for his phone in the semi-darkness; it was too goddamned late, or too early, or _something_. "Th' fuck you want?" he growled, and then realized he was holding it upside down. " _Yeah_?"

" _Finally!_ I only called six times. Get down here," Tim barked at him. "We've got a problem. A _major_ problem, an all-hands-on-deck kind of problem. Everyone's meeting at the Tower."

The phone clicked in his ear, and Jay stared at it for a moment, blinking. Gradually he realized that _Timmy_ had just hung up without waiting for an answer, or taunting him about his beauty rest, or anything. And they were meeting at the Clock Tower, not the Roost. And one more crucial detail, that his own sources had given him right about the same time Babs called him three nights ago. All of that information added up to one thing, something he didn't especially want to realize but all his training and experience told him he couldn't deny. They were in deep shit tonight.

Adrenaline flooded his system, and that enabled Jay to get himself up and dressed and out the door, ignoring the twinges through muscles already taxed by a long night of whack-a-mugger accented with a bit of pimp-slapping and drug-dealer-kicking. Oh, and a six-story drop broken by an awning and a dumpster full of rotting garbage, mustn't forget that. Thank fuck he'd showered, or the smell of himself would nauseate him.

The Tower was already full when he got there, just a few arriving on his tail. Bats and Birds together, just about everyone who was cleared to work in Gotham, even. Babs had a map of the city up on six big screens, with certain locations highlighted in red. She nodded to him and said, "We're waiting for one more," but Jay wasn't paying attention because he knew his city, and those red dots were familiar locations.

If he ran across a drug dealer downtown, he'd settle for kicking their ass and leaving them for the cops. But when he found a dealer hanging around a _school_ , well, he added some broken bones as an incentive to find a new location. Back in the day, it had been more than broken bones—a bullet to the head was pretty effective persuasion. And all of those red dots were elementary schools. "What the hell are we dealing with?" he snapped, rounding on the rest.

Before Bruce could answer him, Dinah crossed her arms and smirked, but there was no humor in her smile. "Try answering your phone on the first ring."

Jay narrowed his eyes. "Been a rough night. Well? We're all here, let's have a briefing."

"Not quite all," Bruce said, but then a strong breeze stirred the room, blowing Jay's hair into his eyes. When he shook it away impatiently, Kala was there, nodding to Babs and Bruce. There was no time to be shocked at her presence or protest her involvement. As soon as she turned up, they got started.

"All right," Oracle said, spinning back to her console. "Highlighted on these screens are one hundred forty-three elementary schools within central Gotham City, mostly in highly-populated urban areas. We've received intelligence that a terrorist threat has been made against some or all of these schools."

"What kind of threat?" Huntress asked.

"The water system is supposedly contaminated with Joker venom," Oracle said calmly. Jay swore under his breath, just now realizing how wide Kala's eyes were, obviously trying to steady herself. He'd known the bastard was out again, he'd known Joker was going to pull some bullshit eventually, and he'd been steeling himself against that eventuality ever since Babs called him with a tremor in her voice and a gun in her other hand, to tell him their personal nightmare had broken out, again.

But he hadn't imagined anyone would be crazy enough to call _Kala_ in when the shit went down. They couldn't take her out against Joker, could they? Shit, Mask was one thing, and Jay would love to see her smack down Dent or Ivy or Penguin, but _Joker?_ Who the fuck were they kidding? He'd trained her as well as he could in two months, but this was _Joker_ , dammit! No one could predict him, and no one was ready to deal with his projects in their first year in the field. Hell, no one was _ever_ ready to deal with him, but generally Batclan tried to keep the newbies away from Joker until they got used to working with the rest of Gotham's rogues' gallery.

Oracle waited only a moment for the muttered swearing around the room to die down, and then she continued. "The contamination is reportedly in the lines that serve the automatic sprinklers. The plan was most likely to trigger the sprinkler systems and douse every student attending class tomorrow."

"Can we shut down the schools?" Tim asked.

Bruce answered him. "Yes, but only as a last resort. Doing so will cause a city-wide panic, which is most likely exactly what he wants."

That prompted a low chuckle from Kala. "Only in Gotham. Talk about differences in the Sister Cities. Metropolis has snow days; here the kids get super-villain days. We get our share, but yeesh." She shook her head, a little smirk quirking her purple-painted lips.

Jay bit his tongue; this was not the time or place to snark back at her. Not even when he was so very tempted to tell her that _this_ was why everyone kept thinking she was a dilettante. Of course, everyone in the room knew better. Kala's black humor served the same function as Jay's, keeping them both sane.

"We need to cover each school, check the water for venom, and check the sprinkler systems for triggering devices," Babs said. "Additionally, we expect that Joker may know his plans were leaked, so we can expect company at some or all of the target locations. Most of us are aware of Joker's preferred weapons, but for the uninitiated: anything goes. Firearms, knives, a lethal joy-buzzer, a lapel flower that squirts acid, you may find any or all of those on him or his henchmen. The razor-edged playing cards he reserves for himself, and Blur—you are probably _not_ impervious to those. Don't let him cut you with anything; he frequently smears the blades with venom."

"We have an antidote, but the cure's almost as bad as the disease," Dick said when Kala nodded and started to ask a question. "You'd feel like you had the flu for a week."

"Assuming it even works with her physiology," Babs added. "This may also be a new formulation, to which our antidote is only partially effective. Bottom line: don't let yourself get exposed."

Kala arched a dark eyebrow and said, "Gotcha. You know what I love most about you, Oracle? You're _always_ such an optimist. Thanks for the tip; I'll be careful."

She did manage to get a smile from the redhead. "All right. We need to watch each other's backs, so pair off and get your assignments."

That was Jay's cue. He grabbed Kala's elbow and yanked her to his side. "You're with me. Babs, send me coordinates on the fly." With that he started hustling her out of the room.

Kala let herself be dragged, but quipped lightly, "Oh, Jay. Hi there. Didn't see you hiding in the back. I missed you too."

"Couldn't tell," Jay snapped, and hauled her out. Hopefully Babs had the sense to send them on the lowest-risk sector…

…

Dick watched his brother drag Kala out of the room and turned to his ex with raised eyebrows. "Was that a good idea?"

"She works best with her primary trainer," Babs replied smoothly.

"Yeah, but he flips out where Joker's concerned, he's over-protective of her, and she's never faced Joker," Tim said. "What if they both lose it at the same time?"

"They can't. They won't let each other. They'll be fine." That was Bruce, who picked a sector and downloaded it to his wrist computer.

"Also, she does have powers," Dinah added. "That's a decent insurance plan if he starts to tip over."

"All right, let's pick our teams," Dick said, offering his arm to Dinah. "Shall we, Canary?"

She laughed, but not unkindly. "No thanks. Huntress, you're with me."

"Ouch," Dick laughed.

"Just don't drag me out by the hair like Hood just did," Helena said with a snort of amusement, glancing in the direction the two had left by.

"Wing and Robin, you're taking the east quarter," Babs said. "Batman already left for the north, so you're working together by default."

Tim and Dick shared a look. Dick rolled his eyes. "You'd think _just once_ he could say, 'Let's get in the car' or even 'Let's go', but noooo…"

…

Chafing at the way Jay was manhandling her, Kala only controlled her temper long enough let him drag her to his bike before digging in her heels. He was freaked over this; she _knew_ he was freaked over this. Hell, _she_ was freaked over this, but it was getting to be too much. All this was doing was feeding on the fear in a never-ending circuit. "Okay, _whoa_ there. Enough with the caveman impression. Look, Jay—"

But that was as far as she got before he interrupted her. "This isn't a game, K. He's worse than Mask; Sionis is small potatoes compared to Joker."

"Seriously? You think I don't know that?" she shot back indignantly, jerking out of his grip. "Give me a break, Jay. Anybody with two brain cells to rub together for warmth knows that! Why the hell else did O even call me in, if it's not one of the worst threats running?"

"So shut up, keep your head down, run it by the book, and we might both live," he growled back.

Her jaw tightened then, and if looks could kill, Red Hood would have done a face-plant right there on the concrete. "To hell with you. Are you _deliberately_ trying to piss me off, Red? I'm not some fucking green civilian, and you damn well know it! I didn't forget everything you taught me just because I went back to my goddamn day job! Give me some credit for having some sense!"

"I never taught you enough to handle him. No one can." After that harsh reply, he swung a leg over the bike and jammed his helmet down, latching it in place with a final _click._ "You coming, Blur?"

She hung back for another second, then groaned. God, the situation was tense enough; did they really have to do this _now?_ He was furious with her, that much had been clear from the first glance at his face, but they both knew this wasn't the time. Her lack of answer and the fallout could wait. Better to bitch over the mission at hand. "Goddammit, fine. I'm not letting you do this alone. Not against him. But if you want to get this done as fast as possible, we should fly."

Jay turned, and she could see him blinking behind the helmet. "The hell?" he finally said.

Kala gave an exasperated snort. "Powers. Me. Flight. Faster than your bike. Come on, Hood, get with the program. You wanna waste time driving? Or don't you trust me?" She tried to make that last sound playful, wanting to avert the anger she could feel baking off him, but was afraid it came out sounding brittle.

"Shit," was all Jay said, but he got up off the bike and came toward her. "Thought it was Dickie-Bird you owed a flight to. He can't stop talking about it."

"Too bad for him, you decided I was working with you," Kala remarked, stepping into his space. Both arms around his waist seemed the best option, though it reminded her too sharply of how his weight had felt against her in the training room during their little rematch.

At least she could find a little humor. "Try not to scream, Babs has a memory like an elephant. You'll hear it forever," Kala said, and rose into the air. Gently, at first, Jay grabbing her shoulders out of reflex as his feet left the ground.

She tilted her head back, checking the airspace above, and soared up. Jay took a sharp breath, but didn't so much as squeak, and to keep him distracted Kala muttered under her breath, "Contrary to what you might think, I _did_ actually miss you, you ass."

Jay paused for a fraction of a second, and she could feel him weighing his reply. In the end, Babs overrode anything he might say by reading off their locations' coordinates over the comms. Kala leveled out, linking her arm through his and keeping him by her side, the pair of them moving in perfect harmony as if they hadn't spent more than a day apart. She did notice his reluctance to look down as she sped over the city to their first location, and chuckled a little under her breath. "Shut up," Jay muttered, holding tight to her arm, and she only laughed more.

To her surprise it was easy to drop into the flow of working with him again, following his lead. They knocked out the first fifteen schools on their list in quick succession, checking water samples with the chemical analyzer that was standard Bat-kit, and which Kala carried too. Most showed nothing other than some rust from the pipes, and there were no detonation devices anywhere in the circuitry for the sprinkler systems. Kala's x-ray vision came in handy there. They also placed temporary sensors at each site, so if any of Joker's henchmen came along behind them, Babs would know immediately and reroute someone to handle it.

They didn't talk much, just got the job done, fast and slick and professional. Their sector was on the better side of town, centered around City Hall, and Kala was already thinking that if they got done ahead of schedule they could pick up a few of Bruce's targets.

Of course, just as she thought that, they ran into complications. The front gate of Franklin Carter Elementary was unlocked, and they slipped inside cautiously, landing in back by the bus loading area in case the front was booby-trapped, and casing the area from the ground. Jay had many little maxims about life as a cape in Gotham, and the one that came to mind at the moment was: _You can never be_ _ **too**_ _paranoid_.

Another one was: _Height is the first advantage._ So instead of slipping along the walkways, they went to the roofs, Jay in a neat parkour-style leap that let him catch the edge of the roof and roll himself up onto it, Kala in a longer leap assisted by a touch of flight. Thanks to Gotham's annual snowfall, the roofs were sharply peaked, and the pair of them ran along the slopes, letting the ridgelines hide their crouched profiles.

To the maintenance areas in the main building, a door open that shouldn't have been, lights on that should've been black, and Jay tensed with anticipation and impending violence. It all came back like she'd never left, Kala eeling to the edge of the roof silent as a shadow, only touching it with her fingertips, hovering for that extra edge of stealth. "I'm point," she breathed, and she was gone before he could argue.

Vaulting off the edge, she somersaulted in midair in case they looked, and landed noiselessly beside the door. Two men were inside, bitching and grumbling, two heartbeats, two sets of breath. Even odds, _easy_ odds, but the part of her brain that hadn't been on patrol for a week chose that moment to sit up and ask, _Wait, what am I doing here? Why the hell am I jumping into a physical confrontation with two crazy assholes? How am I going to explain any bruises to the band—how am I going to explain to the label if I'm too banged up to make the next show?_

Kala hesitated just for a second. _What the—? Since when do I doubt myself?_ But she shook that off, filing it away for later as another of Jay's little sayings hit her: _Nerve will take you where training won't, but training will get you back out again_. And her nerve seemed to have taken a backseat for the moment. Still, backing down was foreign to her; nerve was never something Kala had lacked.

From somewhere else in her mind came a low, controlled, and above all _cold_ voice, the one she feared – the one she called the Empress. _This is your duty. Do this, take the sun later if you must heal. If something goes wrong, tell the label they must wait._ _ **They**_ _work for_ _ **you**_ _. You can find another label, but they will not be able to replace you so easily._

She gave a little laugh, never having thought of it that way before. That was a good point, really. It wasn't like they could do without her; the crowds the first three shows had attested to that.

 _So what are you waiting for?_ _Permission?_

Unable to resist a wicked grin at that thought, Kala swung into the room, knowing Jay was right behind her. This had to be _quick_ , no idea what these guys were armed with, and their backs were to her so she just grabbed them both by the collars and swung their heads together sharply. That stunned them but didn't put them out, so she focused her attention on the one furthest from the door, pummeling him into submission. Joint strikes to stop him from reaching for weapons, body blows to keep him off balance, and another rap on the head to render him safely unconscious. Jay had dealt with the other man a bit more harshly; there was blood spray on the wall, and a fire in Jay's eyes that made her hide a frown of worry.

Then zip ties and a call to Oracle, giving her the location. The canister of venom they confiscated, along with the triggering device that hadn't yet been attached.

"Nice work," Jay told her, and she preened under it even while she thought he could've held back a little. Then again, there were kids at stake here, and that set him off something fierce.

"Not so bad yourself," she replied, pulling him to her side as they blasted off to the next location.

Quiet again for a while, six more schools knocked off their list, but Kala's blood was up now, and she knew they wouldn't get out of this without another confrontation or two. After that first brush of doubt, she was looking forward to it, actually. The clean, fierce joy of fighting for a good cause had taken root during the summer, and she'd discovered she craved it. Even better, the fighting kept her from thinking about all the things she hadn't talked about with Jay, everything left unsaid between them. Her arm around his waist, Kala was silently kicking herself for letting his voicemail go unanswered this long. But how could she respond when she was maybe a little too afraid of what the reply could be herself?

The next stop on their list was a big, fancy school with state of the art security—which was useless against people who could fly, and who thought nothing of leaping a twenty-foot gap five stories above the ground. They broke in via the roof and made their way down, by the book, checking every corridor.

And then everything went to hell.

…

Jay was about to make the corner when Kala grabbed him, her eyes wide beneath her mask. _"Stop._ Can't you hear it?" she hissed.

He listened, but there was nothing. "No. What've you got, K?"

"I can hear him laughing. He's here, somewhere in the building," she murmured, and Jay's spine turned to ice with the revelation.

 _Oh no. Oh fuck no. No way, she's not ready for the man himself, we are so fucked here._

"Jesus fuck," he muttered aloud before beeping the comm. "O, we've got him at Casterbridge. Send backup."

The response to that was immediate. "Confirm, Hood. You have the target's presence at T. G. Casterbridge Elementary?"

Kala tapped her earpiece. "Confirm via me, Oracle. I can hear him down below; I know his laugh from recordings. It's him and at least four, maybe five others. They're in the main electrical switch room in the basement."

"Understood. Retreat and observe, backup is on the way."

They signed off then, following orders. From the expression that flitted across her face, Kala was keeping up her audio surveillance and none of what she was hearing was good. She seemed to phase out, all of her attention of whatever the Clown was up to. He could see her trying to lock down, stay expressionless, but it was a losing battle. It was only when she frowned deeply and gave a shudder that Jay touched her shoulder, startling her back to herself. "Hey. It'll be fine. The rest are coming as fast as they can."

Kala tried to give him a smile, but it was a nervy one. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what she'd heard. "I know. I just … I've heard him on tape before, but never in person. That laugh … Jesus, he really is that whacked-out. _Shit_." She shivered again, and Jay put his arm around her, tugging her close. There was nothing he could say that could comfort her. To his thinking, Joker was proof that real evil existed, not just socioeconomic unfairness, not just misunderstood and misguided people, true _evil_. Death, destruction, chaos, all for a whim, for amusement.

For a moment, Kala leaned against his shoulder. Her hair still smelled like sunlight, and she breathed in deep, probably absorbing the leather and gun oil scent that was his. She went still for a moment, then shook herself. " _Dammit._ Enough of this. I'll be fine. But we can't wait here, Red. He's got something else in mind—I can hear him talking to his thugs. It's not just the venom in the water lines, but he's not talking about it in detail. We have to do something. We have to get down there."

Jay was torn. Doing things by the book meant waiting, but the urgency in Kala's voice, in her eyes, was real. And it was never, ever wise to let the Joker do things his own way for very long. There was no telling what sort of surprises he could be setting up. This whole thing might've been a trap, for all Jay knew. "God fucking _dammit_ ," he growled. Tapping his comm, he added, "O, we have to go in. Something else is going on here." With that he broke the link, and they hustled down to the basement.

…

When Jay tried to stop her from taking point, Kala put her mouth against his ear and hissed, "Get over it. _I_ can float. _I've_ got the super-senses. I'll find a trap before you will, and I'm less likely to trigger one if I don't touch the ground. We both know it only makes sense."

"I won't send you in ahead, not against him," he growled back.

"This is the best allocation of resources, and you damn well know it, Red. Shut up and deal." Turning away from him with a huff, she did exactly what he'd trained her not to do, and defied his orders, taking point and floating down the stairwell. Jay came right behind her, radiating tension and anger from every pore.

There was a rigged line at the bottom of the steps, which she alerted him to by sign language, and another a little beyond it. They avoided both, and Kala let herself drift ever so slowly down the corridor, toward the lights and voices in the maintenance area of the school.

Then, behind them, she heard something. A growl, a low yip, and then another voice she knew only from recordings. High-pitched, laughing nastily, a woman saying, " _Find 'em, babies! You go get 'em! Good boys!"_

Kala's lip curled. She mouthed to Jay, 'Harley's tracking us with dogs.'

He shook his head. 'Hyenas.'

Of course, she should've remembered that. 'I'll get them.'

'No.' Slipping the safety off his gun, he turned back toward the stairwell.

But Kala tapped his shoulder. " _No_ ," she dared to whisper, only the slightest modulation of breath. "Don't kill them. Not their fault. I'll put them off the scent."

He didn't let her get ahead that time, though, grabbing her sleeve. "Knock off that PETA bullshit," Jay whispered back. "Those things will _eat_ you, K."

"They'd have to catch me first. I'll be fine. A little invulnerability and speed, remember? Besides, secret weapon." With that she showed him the tiny vial of peppermint essential oil she carried. A drop or two could erase the scent of anything else, and she carried it in case she was called in to patrol and ran into Sebast before she could shower. Random midnight aromatherapy was easier to explain than the smell of cordite clinging to her clothes.

It was the work of a minute to hurry back up to the second floor, beneath where Harley was—and how the hell she'd missed the woman's presence in the building, Kala didn't even want to imagine—unless she'd come in while they were locked onto Joker—but none of that mattered. She couldn't get distracted. Kala tossed the vial of peppermint directly into their tracks, and only then touched down. She knelt, stripped off her glove, and touched the floor with her bare hand, leaving volatile oils and minuscule flakes of skin, a scent bomb the hyenas would be sure to pick up on once they got over the peppermint.

Weird, the things that came in handy at this job. Kala knew about scent and tracking thanks to her Grandpa Ben, who'd been an avid beagler, and the family's beagles. She laid a fresh, hot track to a second-story window, checked it for alarms, and then carefully opened it. Touching the sill again, Kala yanked her glove back on, wrapped the coat around herself, and floated back to the stairwell. With a little luck, the hyenas would read the scent on the window as hotter than the faint trail she'd just left in the air as she crossed the room. Hopefully they were ground-scenting animals, not air-scenting ones, because the latter would mean a fight.

A moment later she heard yelps and whimpers and Harley cursing. Hidden within the shadows, clinging to the underside of the stairs leading upward where the airflow would carry her scent up and away, Kala smiled. The two hyenas came into view a few seconds after, gingerly sniffing. Burly, coarse-haired brutes, they looked ungainly, but Kala had watched enough Animal Planet to know they were perfectly adapted to their function as hunters and scavengers, and the knowledge lent them a certain savage grace. They put their heads down to sniff at the ground, which was exactly what she wanted to see. They both went to the window, sniffing at the sill with excited little whines. Harley—the petite blonde looking more dangerous than clownish, in person—looked at the open window, and her eyes narrowed.

She came to the stairwell, and Kala froze, holding her breath. Matte black uniform in blacker shadow, nothing to catch even the slightest gleam of light, and she was above Harley's head. Good odds for not being seen, but she still kicked herself for not going up another flight. "Mistah J! Someone's been up here! Looks like they bailed out the window!" Harley hollered.

From below, that voice, a shrill screech and sarcastic, to boot. "Well go _get them_ , Harley. You, go with her." Then footsteps on the stairs, coming past Jay, as one of the henchmen headed up.

"I'll bring 'em right back here for ya, Puddin'!" Harley turned away, heading to the window, and that was Kala's moment. Even with another thug coming up the stairs right below her, she had to focus on Harley and both hyenas. Tranq darts were part of the standard Bat-kit, and instead of using a blow-gun Kala simply threw them, putting a touch of her speed into it.

One, to the back of Harley's neck—two, to the nearest hyena's rump—three, to the further hyena's shoulder. And then fast, _fast_ , grab Harley before she could fall, zip ties on her wrists and ankles, the two hyenas stumbling for a second, but no time to waste, Kala grabbed the muzzle of one before it could make a sound. Only then did she look around to see what Jay had done with the next henchmen.

He'd taken the man out silently, probably using the same tranq darts, and was carrying him up the stairs already zip-tied. Jay took in the scene—Harley unconscious and gift-wrapped, one hyena flat out asleep, the other struggling drowsily. He reached for his belt, but Kala shook her head. Pointing at the henchmen he carried, she mouthed, 'His shirt'.

After Jay cut it off and passed it to her, Kala used the fabric to muzzle the hyena. It was basic canine first aid, even if hyenas were somewhat feline, and by the time she had its mouth securely closed the beast was blinking blearily at her. Once she and Jay got all four locked into a closet a few rooms away, the stubborn hyena was snoring. For good measure, Kala took off the hastily-wrapped shirt and tore it into strips. With those, Jay gagged Harley and the other guy, while Kala cut long strips out of the henchman's jeans to make more secure muzzles for both hyenas.

That accomplished, they still had Joker himself and at least two other men downstairs to deal with. Kala made herself see some levity in the scene before her. "This poor bastard," she whispered, chuckling. "He's gonna wake up tied up, half-naked, with his boss' girl and two hyenas."

Jay apparently didn't realize she was trying to whistle past the graveyard. "Worse shit happens to Joker's employees," he muttered.

She stopped to smirk at him, crossing her arms. Of course he'd miss the joke now, when she desperately needed the bravado before wading into the belly of the beast. "Well, there we go. That's my Hood, always a fucking ray of sunshine. Some things never change," Kala whispered back.

He looked at her for a long moment, face unreadable behind the helmet, and then reached out to rumple her hair as much as he could, with it being sensibly pulled up. "Ray of sunshine is _your_ bag, K. C'mon, let's do this."

Deep breaths, she reminded herself. "All right. We know where they are, so I'll let you have point. I've got your back, Red."

"Enjoy the view, Blur," he snarked.

"Dick," she hissed, but the teasing remark _did_ make her smile. _Finally. God, get with the program already_. Deep down, she was scared to death, this set-up all too reminiscent of a moment from her past. But as Jay stepped forward, she could make herself proceed. There was no way in hell she'd allow him to go alone. Not into this, not with his past with that monster.

"Wrong brother," he whispered back after a moment, and they headed down to confront the Joker.


	41. Follow Them to Hell

As they made their way down, Jay was on full lockdown, his armor up, trying to prepare himself. From the hallway, he could hear Joker's voice, and it was like a thousand ice-cold cockroaches running up and down his back. "Now just cross _those_ wires over there into _these_ wires over here, that's a good fellow," he was saying cheerfully to one of his men. _Cheerfully._ That was the hellish thing about Joker: he did everything with a smile. Whether pressing the trigger on a bomb that would blow up a preschool or swinging a crowbar that would shatter a Robin's face, the same maniacal grin accompanied every act.

"Uh, boss?" the thug said worriedly.

" _Yes_?" Joker drawled.

"Well, uh, if I do that, when the sprinklers come on, it'll load the circuits and run current to every outlet and fixture in the building."

"Exactly," the Clown chortled, and Jay paused just before the threshold, wanting to hear the rest of this. Behind him, Kala was nearly vibrating with tension.

"Since we bypassed the circuit breakers, that'll be lethal current. And, um, with the lines we installed and the water, it'll travel fast. Anybody who gets too close to a door handle or a light switch or a wall socket will get juiced."

Joker cackled, and Jay suppressed a shudder. "Of course it will! That's the whole point! The whole school will be one big joy buzzer!"

"Uh … don't you think that's a little … overkill? I mean, electrocuting kids?"

 _We have to take him out. Now. Sonofabitch, there's no level of depravity he won't sink to._ Jay steeled himself, but heard Joker sigh. When he spoke again, his voice was eminently reasonable.

"Bill, listen. I understand you're feeling a little iffy about this. You know, you're right. Perhaps there's a less _extreme_ way of doing things. See, the problem is—and maybe you missed this in the employee handbook, but—" a shot rang out, and the man squealed. " _I call the shots!_ " Joker shrieked, and he fired once more, ending the reluctant man's cries.

In his current state of mind, Jay could only think that was one less goon to deal with. He could hear the faint scrape of shoes on concrete as the Joker turned to his other men. "Now, does anyone else have any complaints? You know I have an open-fracture policy."

This was the best chance they were gonna get. Jay dove in, both guns aimed at Joker and firing from the second he cleared the threshold. Fuck Bruce's code, he'd kill the bastard if he could.

Of course, of _course_ the Clown dodged. Sonofabitch had more lives than a dozen cats. One of Jay's shots clipped the furthest henchman, but the nearer two were closing in. Jay heard Kala yell right behind him, distracting the attackers as she swept in. Her preferred fighting style now was hand-to-hand, and she disarmed the first man and brought him to the ground while Jay turned to the second. Too close to shoot, but the pistol whip upside his head put him off balance.

They'd thought Joker had at most five guys in here, and that looked right so far—one who'd gone to assist Harley and was now gift-wrapped, one whom Joker had killed, and the three they were now fighting. It was never good to make assumptions, though; there could be more men somewhere. They had to take out these, and fast.

A second blow to the temple of the man before him, coupled with a hard kick to the solar plexus, put that one out of the fight. The one he'd winged was coming in now, on his off side, but Kala had shuriken in her kit and the guy yelped as they stung him. Jay decided to ignore that one and go after Joker.

Who was, of course, laughing his ghoulish face off, makeup smeared up over the damned scars, his teeth yellowed and crumbling. It was all Jay could see, that deathly grin, the dancing maniacal glee in his eyes as chaos whirled around him, violence and blood and death. And all Jay wanted at that moment was to put a bullet between those damned eyes, stop him right then and there. Bringing his gun up, he was acutely aware of the pressure of his finger on the trigger. Just one squeeze, and it'd be done. The Clown would be ended, finally.

But a hand landed on his shoulder, fingers curling into the collar of his jacket, and before his finger could complete the motion, he was yanked back and nearly off of his feet.

"What the—"

"He's got a dead man's switch," Kala hissed into his ear as she tugged him back down the hallway and around a corner forcibly. "You shoot fast, but not _that_ fast."

Jay's brain spun to catch up, at last realizing just what she'd meant. If he'd finished pulling the trigger, not only would the whole place have gone to hell, anyone left alive would be crispy-fried in a heartbeat.

 _Fuck._

"Running away so soon, kiddies? But I've got so much _planned_ for this little reunion."

Jay shuddered involuntarily at the shrill taunting from the Joker, who hadn't bothered to follow them as they retreated. "Not on your useless life, asshat!" he shouted back around the corner, beyond which he had no idea just where the Clown was, exactly. "And _fuck you,_ for trying to murder a bunch of kids."

"Trying to? Oh, no. _Will._ Or have you forgotten about our little sparring match when you were still a fresh-faced smarty-pants Robin?"

His blood suddenly boiling, Jay fought against the urge to charge back around the corner and take the bastard down right the fuck now, death be damned. No fucking way he'd let the Clown get away with smack talk like that. 'Sparring match', his ass.

Gnashing his teeth, he looked to Kala, who—

Who was doubled over with her hands clamped over her ears, her own teeth grinding almost audibly. "Dammit," she managed to hiss painfully, her face twisting.

Almost all thought of the Joker flew from Jay's head as he got down to check on Kala then, his hands landing on the sides of her face to turn her gaze up to his. "Hey, hey, what's wrong?"

"T-tried to ignore it, but it's too strong," she muttered, her eyes darting about wildly, gaze distant. "He's got k, Red. First sign is a buzzing in my ears. And … and … it's too loud to tune out. I can't—"

Oh, _fuck_. The goddamn Clown had brought kryptonite—and now Jay's only backup was going glaze-eyed with terror. Shit, that stuff could _kill_ her.

He couldn't, wouldn't, let that happen, no way in hell.

…

"Alert: target is present at Casterbridge. All teams converge."

Those words reached everyone's earpieces at the same moment. Dick and Tim, who had encountered a few of the Joker's henchmen, looked up at each other across a gymnasium. That was Jay and Kala's sector, and they both knew it. Tim's staff whirled, Dick's escrima sticks thudded, and they disposed of their attackers efficiently, breaking off to head across town. Neither of them spoke. They didn't need to. They were both worrying about Jay and Kala. He shouldn't have had to face the Joker again … and she wasn't ready. But then, who was?

Meanwhile Dinah and Helena had also found some trouble to get into. At the alert from Oracle, Dinah looked to her partner. Helena activated the built-in sound suppressing devices in her mask; something they'd devised to keep Dinah from having to haul her around unconscious if Black Canary needed to employ her sonic scream. It wasn't her first, or her second, line of offense—anything that so easily turned into friendly fire was a liability as much as an asset—but it did come in handy at moments like this. One ultrasonic scream, and the men facing them were curled up in the fetal position, out like lights when a circuit blew. "Let's go," Dinah said.

Far away to the north, Batman heard the one thing he'd been hoping not to. If the Joker had been anywhere tonight, logic suggested he would've been in this sector—but of course he wasn't. Joker was never predictable. Cursing, Bruce left his post, flying toward the fight at Casterbridge. He couldn't bear to lose Jay again … and couldn't even imagine losing his best friend's daughter, too.

Back at the Clock Tower, Babs watched the blue dots on her screen, steadily converging on Jay's location. She rarely felt impotent these days—knowledge was power, and by that measure she was the most powerful person in the entire League—but right now, with friends in danger, that old useless wish came back to her. _If only I…_ "No," she said quietly to the empty room. They had enough fighters heading into the area; what they needed was her skills right here. With that, she set about hacking into the school's automated systems.

…

That hellish high buzz in her ears felt like a million crickets on meth all singing at once, the sound of fingernails on a chalkboard sped up to a pitch that drilled into her head like dental tools, setting her teeth on edge. Kryptonite, Joker had kryptonite, and she should've expected that. Jason had been in and out of Gotham for years, publicly acknowledged as a Kryptonian, so why wouldn't Gotham's criminals carry the sole defense against him and his kind? In a way, it made the most perfect sort of sense, sick though it was.

And here she was, on the verge of panic, not having been this terrified since she was sixteen and facing down both Luthor and Zod. Everything extraneous began to shut down, her entire being gearing up to defend herself with every weapon in her arsenal. In that moment, Jay looked into her eyes and shook her slightly. "Get out of here, Blur. I'll distract him 'til the rest get here. But you _have_ to get out. _Go_ , K."

He didn't give her a chance to argue, just hauled her to her feet and shoved her toward the door. And then Jay turned back to face his own personal demon, the man who'd damn near killed him. Kala actually staggered a couple of steps away before the reality of it finally percolated through her head.

Joker had almost killed Jay. She didn't know all the specifics, but she knew everyone had thought he was dead. And given what Jay had said to her once, about being beaten with a crowbar … the man was his nightmare, his devil in the dark, hell itself. How could she let him face Joker alone?

Short answer: she couldn't. As Jay turned the corner, roaring a challenge, she summoned every iota of her determination and courage. Once before, Kala had done this, faced something she _knew_ was far beyond her capability to handle, something that would drive her insane if she let it. Her defense then had been to go a little crazy herself, leap ahead of the wave that threatened to crush her.

Even as Joker cackled and pulled the trigger, shooting at Jay, Kala steeled herself against the kryptonite and turned back to the fight. The first thing she saw was Jay taking cover, getting ready to jump into the line of fire again. _No, you cannot spend your life so easily,_ she thought, and came around with rage and tenacity fighting fear for mastery of her mind.

The Joker turned to her, and in his eyes she saw a terrible emptiness, like the iridescent gloss of an oil spill. There was nothing behind those eyes except a reflection of every cruel, random stroke of ill-luck in the world. Every infant who smothered in a soft bed; every elderly person who fell, broke a hip, and died slowly in their own home; every child who choked on a piece of candy; every young woman whose blind date turned out to be stalker; every young man who had one drink too many and thought himself immortal; all of those danced gleefully as high comedy to Joker. She saw him clearly then, her already-enhanced senses boosted even higher by adrenaline, and he was chaos embodied.

A gun was in his right hand, the switch in his left, the gun already turning toward her. Jay shouted at her to run, starting to intervene, ready to take the bullet that was aimed at her. And they thought he was the _bad_ brother… Kala focused her attention on the switch, a simple bit of circuitry. Right now, with the button depressed, the circuit was open. Releasing the button would close the circuit and send electricity singing along every floor of the building. She might be able to evade it by hovering—with nothing to ground her, she wouldn't make a connection for the current to run through. But Jay wouldn't, and the rest of the team would fall victim when they arrived.

So, first priority, disable the switch. Kala's focus narrowed even more, and she felt heat building behind her eyeballs. She ignored the bullets for the moment, trusting bad aim and body armor to save her. She was moving too fast for any human to track, anyway; even deafened by the kryptonite, her speed remained. Her balance would suffer in a moment, but she had this little space of time…

Joker yelped as the switch melted in his hand, its circuitry fused into the 'safe' position, the device useless. It burned his skin, too, but Kala didn't especially care at the moment. First priority accomplished.

Time had slowed down during that moment, and with the melting of the switch it sped up again. A bullet smashed into her chest, and even though the armor of her costume kept it from reaching her skin, the impact knocked her flat on her ass. The whole room spun, and she had a hard time rolling over. Kala knew she had to get up, she _had_ to. She couldn't lie here vulnerable, not with Joker still on his feet and ready to kill them both.

…

Jay bellowed like a wounded bull, and Joker was the unfortunate matador who'd just gored him. All he saw was Kala tumbling to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut, flopping ragdoll-boneless from a bullet to the chest. He sprang at Joker, grabbed his gun hand, twisting until the weapon fell, and forced his own gun up under the Clown's chin, pulling the trigger with a swelling of triumph beneath his ribcage.

 _Click._

Well, _fuck_ , he was out of bullets. The triumph bled out of him like a hemorrhage, and Joker laughed uproariously, his rancid breath misting the helmet. Dammit, the only thing left was to finish this the old-fashioned way. His first punch had to have caved some ribs, but the laughing didn't stop. Jay knew from experience that it _never_ stopped.

Thankfully, Joker wasn't a top-notch martial artist like some of their foes, and the beat-down was pretty much going Jay's way. Problem was, the freak was completely unpredictable and luckier than a field of four-leaf clovers. Half the time he managed to dodge blows that _Tim_ couldn't have escaped, and he got his own licks in, too. Today's weapon of choice was a knife, and the blade was nearly as sharp as Jay's own kris. It laid his jacket and his arm open before Jay ever saw it, the sting of the slice late to register.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck! Better hope Alfred has venom antidote handy. With my luck, no way it isn't poisoned._ He didn't feel any effects yet, though, so maybe there was hope. Best of all, he could hear windows shattering as backup arrived in a major hurry.

"Hope Arkham kept your old cell warm for ya, fuckface," he spat.

The manic grin grew wider. "Hope Daddy Bats kept that grave nice and _cold_ for you, kiddo. Hey, how come my name's not on your headstone? Give the craftsman his due, and all that."

For a second, rage blinded Jay. It didn't matter that Bruce was at the door, that Dick and Tim were right behind him, or that Dinah and Helena had just kicked down another door further down this hallway. He wrapped both hands around Joker's scrawny throat and squeezed, and _still_ the bastard laughed.

"Let him go," Bruce demanded.

Joker pried at his hands with purple-gloved fingers. "You heard Pops," he wheezed. "He wasn't around to tell _me_ to stop, though, was he?"

Jay snarled, but it was Dinah who whacked the Joker across the back of the skull and caught Jay's arm. "He _wants_ you to do it, Hood. It'd be the only real victory he's ever had over you. The miserable fuck couldn't even kill you, not even with a bomb. Don't give him what he wants."

And that was why she was Chairwoman of the League—her manipulation skills were better than Bruce's. Only the thought of giving the Joker exactly what he wanted could've backed Jay down at that moment. He let the Clown drop from his gasp, and then remembered Kala.

 _Kala._ Forgetting Joker entirely, Jay bolted to her side, where Tim was already looking her over. "The bullet didn't hit her, but…" his little brother was saying.

Jay overrode him. "B, he's got kryptonite on him somewhere. We've got to get her out of here." With that, he stooped to pick up Kala. For her sake, he'd turn his back on vengeance—this time.

Meanwhile Bruce knelt beside the Joker, quickly finding the green stone set into a stickpin. It was the largest piece of kryptonite any of them had seen anyone other than Lex Luthor carry, but it quickly went into a lead-lined compartment on the utility belt.

With the confinement of the radiation, Kala took a deep breath, her eyes coming open. Jay breathed a sigh of relief … until her gaze flicked sideways and her eyes widened.

…

Pain, the pain wasn't the worst of it. Weakness was, so frail, like overcooked spaghetti just ready to fall apart, so weak she'd lose an arm-wrestling match to a day-old kitten. Pathetic, useless, failing her allies just when they needed her. Kala had been slipping into unconsciousness hounded by those thoughts, when suddenly a breath of fresh air seemed to invigorate her.

She knew intellectually—and immediately—what had happened. Kryptonite radiation generally had a very short half-life, and the effects began to dissipate almost as soon as the source was properly shielded. Kala woke from her painful half-doze, and something inside her had locked down, her whole being armored and ready. Her eyes flicked up to see it was Jay's arms she was in, explaining away her feeling of weightlessness. But her first instinct was to roll her head to the side to check on the location of the Joker.

Everyone was looking at her for just an instant, and that instant was all Joker needed. He was opening one bloodshot eye, rolling it up to look at Bruce. "Batman!" Kala snapped, and she flipped herself out of Jay's arms. She didn't land _quite_ the way she intended, having to fall to her knees to keep from doing a face-plant, but it was better than she would've expected with the lingering weakness.

Bruce wasn't so easy to take unawares, though, and before Joker could make a move he found himself cuffed. And still he laughed. "Ah well, there's always next time," he said cheerfully, and spat a mouthful of blood from one of the times Jay had punched him, his lips smeared with it and face swelling from the pummeling he'd taken.

"Can it already," Dinah said, sounding bored. Kala knew her well enough to know she had reason to be vicious and hateful, but she wouldn't give Joker the satisfaction.

Nor would Bruce. He hauled Joker to his feet impersonally, looking toward the rest of the knocked-out thugs. "Let's clean this up and go home," he said, his voice stony.

Jay was behind Kala, and Joker looked past her to him. "Seen any good crowbars lately, ex-Robin?" he quipped.

Kala's jaw clenched at that, remembering everything Jay had told her that night in Seventh Circle, and felt ice slide through her veins. It should've been expected from a nightmare made flesh like the Joker, yet the utterly casual cruelty of that statement tore at her. She could feel Jay practically vibrating with tension, and she leaned back, letting her shoulder touch his hand only lightly, where Joker couldn't see it. No sense letting him know his tactics were working. With the situation under control, all Kala cared about was protecting Jay from his nemesis, making sure no more psychological wounds got ripped open. She wouldn't let it happen again tonight, whatever the outcome. He'd been through more than enough at this foul creature's hands. Thankfully, Jay kept his mouth shut, letting Bruce walk the Clown past them.

Unfortunately, Joker had plenty of ammunition already where Jay was concerned, and some of it was brand new.

…

Everything looked like it was going to turn out okay, and because of that Jay was on high alert. He _knew_ Joker. The man could pull victory out of defeat so often, he was most dangerous when he seemed most beaten. So the remark about the crowbar scraped across already sensitive nerves.

He tensed at the memories _that_ called up—the feeling of his eye socket shattering wasn't one he'd ever forget—but Kala leaned back into him, and that kept him still for the moment. Maybe if he didn't react, Joker would think he'd struck out on that one.

And it seemed he did, because he turned in Bruce's grasp and delivered a much more scalding line. "Say, Mr. Hood, you're awfully fond of the new girl, aren't you? Too bad you know what happens to pretty young things in this town, huh?"

Jay started to lunge toward him. That was Babs he was talking about, and Steph, and goddammit, that was _exactly_ what he'd been afraid of for Kala this whole time, that some psycho would look at her and see only tender prey.

His lunge was blocked by Kala getting to her feet in one smooth motion, though, as if the kryptonite had never existed. "Keep your silence, vermin," she spoke, and her voice was suddenly like nothing Jay had ever heard before, authoritative and ice-cold. "You have no idea the actions your words might provoke."

"My, _someone_ has a temper," Joker cackled merrily, and Bruce socked him across the mouth.

Kala advanced on Joker, and Jay saw her pupils begin to glow red in spite of the coldness of her gaze. A chill ran down his spine; this was wasn't like the Kala he knew and had trained. There was a change in her, down to the way she held herself, something innately regal about her posture. "You are unworthy to share the same air he breathes," she proclaimed in that same ringing and somehow terrible voice, all the while moving slowly toward the Clown with a dangerous kind of grace. "Be silent of your own accord, or be silenced. The choice is yours."

Jay couldn't breathe. Here was Kala, not only getting between him and Joker, but threatening the sonofabitch. And with an icy finality that made him sure she'd crisp his vocal cords first and end that laugh forever before she finished the job and killed him. He couldn't quite decide if he was amazed, impressed, disturbed, or aroused. Probably all of the above. Jesus _fuck._

But Bruce had had enough of it; he jabbed Joker with a tranq dart, and the Clown went limp. Jay realized that Dick and Tim were backing off, Helena was hanging back, and Dinah was watching Kala _very_ carefully. She hadn't lifted her intense gaze from Joker, and when Bruce spoke she snapped that red-eyed glare to him so fast that no one saw her head move.

"Leave him. It's over." That was the Bat-voice at its best, gravelly and so final it seemed engraved in granite. Immutable, the word of the Bat God.

To Jay's utter shock, Kala completely disregarded it. "It shall never be over while he lives. We both know this. How many lives has he shattered, ended utterly and without care? How many of your soldiers does he haunt, soldiers you could not save? Why do you deceive yourself? If you lack the courage to end it, _I_ do not. It cannot blemish my name further."

"Stand down, Kala Kal-El," Bruce snarled.

But Kala did nothing of the sort.

Instead she stepped _toward_ him, chin up and expression fierce. "Who are you to command me?" she demanded.

Jay's jaw literally dropped. Dinah was moving in behind Kala stealthily, and he had an idea she meant to sonic-scream Kala unconscious if this kept on. Where the hell K got this defiance, he wasn't sure; she'd always been pretty sweet and obedient to Bruce, following orders like another of his good little soldiers. Shit, she called him _Uncle_ Bruce, and treated him like it. Right now, though, she was a breath away from threatening him, with enough real force in her to back it up that there was no doubt she could do anything she promised.

Bruce's hand went to the lead-lined compartment on his belt, though. Seeing that put Jay's hackles up, even as he knew the reason for it. Bruce always planned for betrayal from his followers, and Jay knew who had taught him that. His voice was still the Bat when he answered, "Your father trusted me to keep you safe—from threats without _and_ within. That's why you were given into my command. Now _stand down_."

And as soon as it'd begun, it was over from the word 'father'. Even Jay could see that. Something in Kala withered instantly, and her glance shifted to the shielded kryptonite. Her eyes closed, her brow wrinkling as if in pain and concentration, fists tight. She stayed that way for several moments before she shuddered, and her voice was her own when she said, "Sorry, I … I didn't … I didn't expect that to happen." When her eyes opened again, Kala seemed herself again, although she didn't meet any of their eyes. All the ferocity had drained from her to leave her paler than usual. "Oh God, I'm sorry. I really didn't—"

"You didn't do anything that all of us haven't done at least once," Dinah said gently. "I'd be more worried if you never tried to defy authority. B, we're taking her back to Oracle to get checked over. C'mon, Huntress."

Bruce nodded as if being threatened by Kryptonians was a daily occurrence. "Blur, report back to me when you're through. Robin, come with me. Wing, Hood, you're on clean-up." And with those words, he hauled away the unconscious Joker himself, leaving Jay standing there dumbfounded, clueless as to what'd just happened.

 _What the fuck_ _ **was**_ _that?_ he mused as he cradled his injured arm, only vaguely aware that he still wasn't feeling any venom effects.

But he shook his head, blinking rapidly. There'd be time for all of that later. For now, he and Dick had a bunch of thugs, a clowny moll, and a pair of hyenas to handle, and not a lot of time to get it done before the authorities arrived. Not to mention, he needed a ride out of here, since his bike was back at the Clock Tower.

No rest for the fucking exhausted. Naturally.

…

Getting Joker's henchmen properly trussed and handed over to the authorities and personnel that Arkham had sent over was a walk in the park, compared to the crash that followed. In the wake of the crisis, Jay felt utterly drained, like someone had hooked up an IV and relieved him of every ounce of spare energy he had in him. Figured that it'd be a confrontation with the goddamn Clown that did it, but even worse, that it had been Kala's first introduction to the madman had made Jay want to put the bastard in the ground for a much more permanent vacation than Arkham could offer.

He knew why Bruce had taken Joker off himself, of course; it would've counted as a miracle Jay didn't decide to surreptitiously slip Joker something lethal while he and Dick waited for the men in the white coats and the boys in blue to show up. It would've been so damn easy.

"You look like you ran into a wall, little bro. Should get that arm tended to."

Dick's statement cut through Jay's haze as they watched the van from Arkham pull away from the school, both of them hanging back on the roof to stay out of the way of GCPD's finest. His gaze snapped up, and he had to take a long breath to keep from biting off a retort. Too damn tired, too punchy, and yep, his arm felt like it'd been filleted. Fuck. Dick was right.

A long look through the lenses of his domino—the helmet had been stashed for the moment—and he finally managed a weak laugh. "Feel more like a wall ran into _me,"_ he said, twisting his lips and gritting against the stinging of his flesh.

And what the fuck? Wasn't like he'd never taken a knifing before. Maybe there _was_ venom on the damn blade. "Could probably use some stitches," he added with reluctant admittance. "And … maybe a little Joker antivenin. 'M feelin' a little twitchy."

Dick nodded, then cocked his head and lifted an eyebrow over his own domino. "Should head back to the Roost, then. There won't be a briefing till tomorrow, so after we get you fixed up and screened, we could grab a beer and chill. I'm sure we could both use one."

Now _that_ sounded like a plan. After the clusterfuck that tonight had turned into, the goddamn taunting, the unexpected Royal Kryptonian Badass, Jay definitely needed a little something to take the edge off. Assuming he hadn't been hit with venom and was just thinking on his own innate crazy juice.

"Yeah," he said. "But not the Roost. I've got a good stash in the fridge at my place. And a supply of antivenin. No reason to bug Alfred tonight."

"You sure? You know Alfred'll have our butts if you don't get taken care of properly."

Jay just shook his head. "I'm sure. Rather not mess with the status quo when I just want to get drunk and pass out. Besides, I don't—"

When Jay pulled up short, unable to finish the sentence—damn Kala and her big show, he really didn't want to walk right back into that mess tonight—Dick looked at him skeptically.

"Don't what, little brother?"

"Nothing," he spat halfheartedly. "Just. Rather be at my own place."

"All right," Dick relented then with his hands up in mock surrender. "But … " pulling a face, he hummed in hesitation, "I dunno … am I gonna risk contamination if I walk in there? I mean, your bunker stank like death the last time I saw it."

"Oh, bite me," Jay shot back, turning to walk toward the stairwell. "I cleaned up, asshat. Kinda. But if you don't wanna give me a hand with my stitches and split a case of beer, then I ain't forcing you."

"Aw, hey, c'mon," Dick called after him. "Just a joke, man."

A hand landed on Jay's shoulder, and he paused in his path. "You must be pretty hard up for a beer," he said, glancing back to find Dick looking way too earnest and too damn innocent for his own good.

Damn him, he'd fall for that Golden Boy shtick every time, wouldn't he? And it'd serve him right for getting cozy with the family again. Heh.

"All right, let's roll," he finally sighed. At least it'd get his mind off of this crazy night, and all the complications that'd come with it. And maybe his stitches wouldn't be crooked this time.

One more addition. "We're taking your ride, D. K and I flew in."

"I borrowed the car," Dick chuckled. "I am jealous about that flight, though. Tell her she owes me twice."

"Fuck, you can have it," Jay replied, with a short laugh. "She flies like I drive."


	42. Locked Herself in Limbo

**Authors' Note:** There have been some good discussions in the reviews about the morality of killing. Please know that the characters' views do not necessarily reflect our own - and that various characters have different beliefs on the topic, depending on their own experience.

To crib off a truly great Tumblr post that we can't link to, Bruce saw his parents murdered when he was just a kid, and said to himself "Never again". Jay, on the other hand, essentially WAS murdered as a kid, and said to himself, "Never again". Bruce cannot justify any killing; Jay will kill a villain to prevent said villain from killing anyone else. This'll be something you hear about throughout the series as the various characters interact.

* * *

Kala could tell that Dinah was starting to worry. She was just aware enough to have lost count of the sideways glances she'd gotten from the corner of the older woman's eye through her riding helmet, knowing that she was trading them with Helena as they headed back to the Clock Tower.

At the moment, Kala herself wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole. She felt wretched from kryptonite exposure, her whole body protesting loudly, but she refused to give in to it. Besides, that wasn't what was foremost in her mind.

She hadn't uttered a word since they'd left the school, half because of the sickness, the other half because she was turning what'd happened over and over in her mind in stunned disbelief. Had she really done that, had she actually let herself slip so far? Far enough to let the monster show its face? Not that she hadn't been justified in losing herself a bit in the face of tonight's events, but it'd been years since she'd been that frightened, that _angry_. Not even when Jay had forced her through her paces, not even against Black Mask had she gone so far.

And she'd never driven Bruce to contemplate bringing k out against her, to subject her to the rock outside of a training session. It had only been the one time, to see how far she could push herself outside the pain, the weakness. She'd been miserable the rest of the night, but that had been her choice. The exposure had been limited and she herself had been determined to see how long she could go without immediate healing. If she had fortitude enough to hold out until dawn, it might be useful. Tonight had proven that it'd been a worthwhile experiment.

Thinking of Bruce, she blanched again. Her stomach roiled as she replayed the speech she'd given. Had she really tried to tell him it was _his_ responsibility to kill Joker? When she knew his views on killing? All that she'd kept mostly locked down tight since… God, and right there. Right in front of all of them. Right in front of _Jay_ , even.

Not that she hadn't meant what she'd said at the time. In all honesty, she couldn't deny that the world would be a better place without Joker in it, most especially considered the lives he'd irrevocably altered. And to have watched the effect that that soulless black hole of a being had had on Jay, so briefly unguarded, she truly shouldn't have been surprised that she would've lashed out at that. Even now, out of the influence of the kryptonite, she could hear the tale Jay had told her, and her blood burned. The proof of the Joker's depravity was all around her, even within Batclan itself. None of them were untouched, unscarred by that madman.

But foremost in her mind was Jay, fifteen-year-old Jay when he'd been Robin, locked in an abandoned warehouse. All alone and with no hope of a last-minute save. Staring into the vast nothingness in those eyes, the pain of the crowbar, seeing the end so close. Surviving the beating if only barely, by his own sheer stubbornness. She bit her lip, hard, trying to force back the memories of Luthor, Zod, and the agony of acute kryptonite poisoning. Every muscle, every cell screaming at the massive dose of radiation. The ringing in her ears so loud, it felt as if her head would explode. And just wishing for the end because the pain was so extraordinary. But in the end, both her father and brother had come for her, snatching her back from the brink.

It had been a miracle. A miracle that Jay hadn't had.

The further difference was that she knew that all her personal boogeyman could do was haunt her dreams. She'd made sure of that personally, Kala remembered with a shudder. General Zod's darkness would never again touch this world, would never again harm her and hers. And even after all Jay had gone through, the Joker still prowled the streets of Gotham. Any night he could come face to face with that monster. Nights like tonight. Wasn't that its own kind of waking nightmare?

That uneasy thought still on her mind, she startled when Helena said just loud enough to be heard over the engine, "Blur, we're almost back. You in there? You all right?"

"You mean other than feeling like my insides were scrambled up and then scorched to within a minute of being burned black?" Glancing up then, she favored Huntress with a wan smile that she might be able to see in the mirror, then decided to share a bit of what was on her mind. "Honestly, I'm a little worried about Red. The Joker got a jump on him at one point. I know he's a big boy, but all things considered, it just keeps bugging me. Was he good when we left out? I was … kinda out of it."

Helena chuckled at that, her mouth quirking up in a smile. "Red Hood seemed fine enough when we left. His jaw was hanging to the floor and he was a little bloodied, but otherwise he looked all right. Besides, Blur, he might act like a sulky thirteen-year-old hoodlum sometimes, but he really is a grown man. If he's not okay, he's smart enough to do something about it. And since he's stubborn enough not to _want_ to, you know Dick will look after him anyway."

That startled an unexpected laugh out of her. She couldn't exactly argue that point. "He has his moments sometimes, yeah, but that's just Jay. And I didn't really help on that front by going all freakazoid like that." Her grin slowly faded, Kala really thinking about it. "It's just, you know … it was the Joker. And I know there's a metric tons of issues there. He really didn't need me acting like a nutcase on top of that; none of us did. God, _I_ sure didn't. Didn't do anyone any favors."

Helena was silent for a moment, making the last turn. The Clock Tower loomed ahead. Finally, she spoke, "You stood up for him. We could all use more of that from time to time."

Kala had to turn that thought around a little in her mind. Maybe Helena was right. Kryptonian Princess Diva moment aside, threats and generally freakiness aside, she _had_ stood up for him. Still, she had to admit, she was more than a little worried about just how much her little spaz-out might have changed what he thought of her. If he even actually did still think about her. _And we're back to the damn voice mail, after all of this,_ she scolded herself. _You act like Empress of Earth in front of people you want to respect you, you faced down the most terrifying thing you've dealt with in almost a freaking_ _ **decade**_ _, you got a good dose of kryptonite radiation, you feel like hell on all levels, and you're worried about whether Jay still thinks about that damn kiss at the airport. Like he's going to avoid you completely now that he's seen that side of you. Seriously, kid, where the fuck are your priorities?_ Finally, still thoughtful, she murmured back, "Thanks, Huntress. I needed that."

In only a few moments, they slowed as they reached their destination. Climbing off Huntress' bike and pulling her helmet off, Kala followed the older two into Clock Tower. Still running everything back over in her head, she cast Dinah a sheepish smile. Whether she'd made a difference, not everyone was bound to think of it that way. She could only imagine what Babs would to say, though she would bet money that she'd have _some_ kind of commentary. "I just can't stop saying it, seriously," she went on as they hit the elevator to head up. "I'm sorry, guys. I'd say I don't know what got into me, but I do. It's … it's just been a long time since I had to deal with it. Better incentive to stay the hell away from the rock than the usual 'It can kill me'." Then another thought occurred to her. " _Ohhh God_ , and Uncle Bruce… _Shit_. Speaking of things that can kill me. I'll be lucky if he lets me back in the city at all." The moment the elevator doors opened to admit them to the top floor, Kala pulled her hair down out of its topknot and ran her hands through it, heaving a huge sigh. "How screwed _am_ I, Lady Chairman?"

Dinah laughed outright, and rumpled Kala's hair. "Quit the Super-guilt, K, it's your dad's trademark. Seriously, though. There's no one in this building who hasn't told Batman off at least once. Some of us several times." With a smirk, she added, "But only _I_ have the actual authority to do it."

"Do you have the authority to keep a certain prophetess' commentary to a minimum?" Kala asked with the sweetest smile she could muster. "I'll take all the help I can get. One less bawl-out, the better."

That got Helena snickering. "No one has the authority to stop an Oracle dressing-down. Not even the mighty cowl himself. Then again, she has this terrible habit of being _right_."

"I don't think you're in for too much scolding," Dinah added. "It's the first time you faced Joker, with kryptonite in the mix too. The important thing is that you didn't run, and no one got seriously hurt."

Her gaze flicking back and forth between them, Kala took a deep breath and they headed into the control room. It wasn't like she could avoid it, anyway.

…

"So, spill it, Jaybird. Tonight spooked you, didn't it?"

Unable to do more than lean slightly back as he sat on the kitchen counter in his little efficiency apartment, Dick administering a shot of antivenin thanks to a barely positive result from the scanner in the bunker—motherfucking Joker, he just had to fuck over everything, didn't he?—Jay took a long swig of his beer. Cold, frothy, alcoholic; everything he needed right now.

What he _didn't_ need was the third degree from Dick. But it wasn't like he had much of a choice now, not with his brother leaned with one hip against the counter as he capped the syringe and traded it with the usual complement of suture supplies in the medkit they'd brought up with them, a hint of a smirk on his face, looking like a teenage girl waiting to hear the juiciest gossip and just dying to give a little comfort.

At least he'd lost the damn domino, both of them having changed down in the bunker, Jay into jeans and a white tee—easy enough to bleach later—and Dick into a spare t-shirt and pair of jeans of Jay's that were a good two sizes too big on him. Good thing he had the ass to hold them up, Jay thought absently as he took another swig and tried to gather himself.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked finally. "The Clown is a rat bastard, and I nearly put a bullet through his head. Same shit, different day."

Dick looked at him more seriously. "Not just that. Kala. You had to face the Joker with Kala in tow. After the hell he put you through—"

"Shut up," Jay cut him off, ready to fling his half-empty bottle at him for even bringing that up. But he managed to rein in the impulse, and scowled at his brother instead. "Bad enough I had to face him again. Kala …" blowing out a breath, he shook his head. "Kala shouldn't have had to be there. Shouldn't have had to hear the filth that came out of that motherfucker's mouth."

Dick's dark eyebrows rose fractionally, and he paused in laying out the suture materials on the counter. "What exactly did she hear?"

For a second, Jay ran the night over in his mind. The things that Joker had said, the crowbar, the blood … images of that damn night played like a bad clip show from a horror flick over his mind's eye.

"I don't know," he finally admitted. "He said a lot of shit, but … but I can't be sure of exactly what she heard since the k was hurting her. She might've heard it all. Not that it matters," he said, lifting a shoulder. "She knows the gist of it."

"I'm guessing you're talking about what happened the night you were almost killed," Dick said quietly, leaning forward a little.

Jay let his eyes slide shut, unable to stop the images now that they'd decided to come out and play. "Yeah. That."

Fuck, he didn't want to deal with this shit right now. He just didn't need the replay of the worst night of his life.

"Hey, it's not your fault, you know. And I seriously doubt that anything she finds out about you would send her running. If she knows the gist of it, then there's probably not much he could say that would give her a reason to. You know how Tim and I tried to warn her off? She pretty well laughed in our faces. I think she might even have a thing for complicated guys, considering."

That got Jay's attention damn quick, his eyes popping open to find Dick giving him that mildly-amused half-smile. "Complicated guys? I assume you just mean me. Otherwise I might need to go scare somebody."

"Just you, Jaybird," Dick laughed. "Point is, the Joker's a bragger; he'll tell anyone in the hero community that'll listen just what he did to screw up that poor pitiful dead Robin. And despite the crapfest that ensued after you showed up alive and well, none of us would turn you away for something you had no control over. I don't think Kala would, either."

Something in Jay's chest tightened and turned a few somersaults at that, and a little jolt of shock ran up his spine. They really did all know just how bad that night was. _Fuck._

Jay took a deep breath, trying to center himself. If Kala was freaked by what she'd heard, then she'd say something if she felt like she needed to. There just wasn't any reason to worry about that now. And chances were that she hadn't even heard any of the Joker's crap at all, with the k buzzing in her ears like a hive of angry bees.

Groaning, he slapped his forehead with one palm. "Doesn't even matter what she did or didn't hear. The k was fucking with her from the get-go. And it … it did something to her. I should've _known."_

"That's not your fault, either, Jay," Dick said gently. "You know as well as all of us that no one can predict the Joker. Not even you."

"I still should've," he protested. "I mean, I let—" Breaking off for a moment, he took another long pull off his beer, and swallowed hard. "I let that piece of shit get the better of me. Let him get inside my fucking head, and it drew out the fight just long enough to get Kala hurt. The bastard fucking _shot_ her, for fuck's sake. Just … motherfucker!" he finished with a shout, slamming the bottle down into the sink next to him and breaking the semi-quiet with the shattering of glass.

A long, pained silence followed, Jay struggling to catch his breath and calm the sudden racing of his heart. God fucking dammit, he'd let that psychopath do exactly what he'd been trying to prevent all summer. No wonder he felt so goddamn drained.

Thankfully, Dick waited patiently for him to continue, not pushing, instead standing and taking a long drink of his own beer.

Jesus fuck, his brother was a manipulator of top caliber. Let's get a beer and chill, sure, and spill our guts while we're at it. _Hmph._

"You must have a death wish, Dickie-Bird," Jay said at last.

"Nah, just a danger junkie," Dick replied, lifting a shoulder noncommittally. "But I figured you'd need to get all that out."

A sigh, despite himself, and Jay dipped his head, feeling like he'd been had. "Yeah. I guess I did."

"See? What'd I tell you. You feel a little better, at least?"

Lifting his gaze, Jay scowled halfheartedly. "Maybe. Gonna take a lot more than beer and yelling. Might need to take apart a training dummy or two after I sleep this off."

"Well, you'll be sleeping it off for a while with the antivenin coursing through your system, even in such a low dose. And there won't be much training until your arm starts to heal up, so you'll just have to make do with yelling at me and breaking bottles," Dick said, his word seeming final, if slightly teasing.

Jay just harrumphed at him again, his lips twisting. Fuck, he needed to get some damn sleep.

"That said," Dick went on, "lose your shirt. I'm gonna need better access here if you want this gash sewed up."

A grumble, and Jay complied, tugging the tee off over his head and tossing it aside. He didn't much feel like being this exposed in front of his brother, but whatever.

"All right, let's get a look, here…." Manipulating Jay's left arm with sure fingers, Dick studied the gash that ran up from forearm to bicep, wiping away blood with a wad of gauze as he went to get a better view. His eyes widened just a bit, and he frowned. "You're lucky this didn't hit a major artery, Jay. You could've bled out before anyone could get you to a hospital."

Well. Wasn't _that_ just the best news of the day. Grumbling again, Jay wished he could go for the fridge to grab another beer. "Eh," he said, shrugging with his other shoulder, "Didn't happen, so I'm not gonna worry about it."

Dick hummed in reluctant agreement. "Still," he said, but then his gaze dropped, sliding left, and his mouth fell open. "What the hell, Jay!? When did _this_ happen?"

 _Wha—?_ Aw, fuck. Jay so did not need this right now.

"'S nothing," he tried to deflect. "Got a little sliced and diced on the job. Got stitched up. The usual."

Dick's eyes found his then, his fingers moving to smooth over the raised scar on Jay's right side. "This was not 'nothing', Jason. This scar can't be more than a month old. And you've been back at home for longer than that. What the hell did I miss?"

Chewing over his words, Jay wished vainly for a sudden miracle to save him from Dick's scrutiny. In many ways, this was worse than having to deal with the third degree over tonight's fiasco. But … fuck it. Wasn't like Dickie was gonna give up, and better to just tell him and get it over with. Damn, he hated the way secrets just couldn't be kept in this family.

"Kala and I got ambushed one night on an emergency call during her training," he started. "We were supposed to meet up with you guys to handle the robbery at Tri-State Medical Supply, but I knew it was a distraction, and we wound up running into a trap that Mask had set up at the central warehouse. We both got shredded. She stitched me up."

Dick's eyes widened. "Wait a minute. That had to have been the night you came home, wasn't it? Kala was all sunny and healed up the next morning, and you looked like you'd been hit by a bus. Good God, Jay, _Kala_ stitched you up? Had she even done anything like that before?"

Jay's jaw clenched involuntarily. There was no way he was getting out of giving the full story now. "Yes, yes, and no," he answered in order. "Her arm was sliced, not as bad as mine is now—which, I'd thank you to get to it, if you don't mind—and I took a good slice to the belly. She got the crash course in emergency sutures, and after I brought her back to the Roost, Alfred fixed me up where I'd popped a stitch. No big, okay? She healed, I healed, and we learned not to get our asses ambushed."

At that, Dick only shook his head, his fingers still tracing the slightly jagged mark on Jay' belly, tickling him so hard that Jay had to force down a startle or three, shivers running up his spine. "This could've killed you, too, little brother." His gaze met Jay's again, and there was that stern look, all sympathy and worry and zero tolerance for Jay's bullshit. "You know we don't have to follow in Bruce's footsteps with the macho crap, right? There's a reason we have a team and a family."

Unable to stop a sigh from escaping him, Jay deflated a little, feeling entirely too vulnerable for either of their own good. "Yeah, I got the memo," he quipped back. "So, stitches? I'm kinda bleeding all over my counter, here."

That finally got Dick's attention away from the old wound, that wasn't worth worrying over now, anyway, and the older brother went to work on the gash quickly, cleaning it up as well as he could, applying alcohol and antiseptic gel before starting the sutures themselves.

"You still could've told us, Jay," Dick said after a long moment. "Not gonna judge you for getting hurt. I mean, it isn't like it doesn't happen to all of us sooner or later, anyhow."

"Kinda not the point," Jay shot back. "I was responsible for Kala, and we got our asses handed to us. I dunno if you noticed, but being her trainer meant I had to keep her safe, and I didn't. And I didn't tonight, either."

Dick sighed heavily, tying off a suture and readying another. "Nobody's perfect, you know. And everybody screws up their first time out as a trainer. You know how many bones I broke before Bruce got the hang of training me to block and land without getting hurt? A lot."

The image that provoked actually pulled a laugh from Jay, and he shook his head, mildly amused by the thought of Golden Boy all pouty in a sling, and Bruce all verklempt and broody. "I bet Alfred wasn't too happy," he mused aloud.

"Nope," Dick grinned. "And Bruce felt about two inches tall after one particularly good dressing down. You shoulda seen it; it was _priceless."_

"Yeah," Jay admitted quietly. "I bet it was."

Dick went on as he tied another suture—just a few left now—and cleaned away some more blood, "And speaking of priceless things to see, seriously, Kala's speech there? That was something to behold, you've gotta admit."

Jay's mind spun from all the guilt he'd been storing up around to shock and awe at the way Kala had just … _changed._ He'd never seen anything like that from her, not the entire time they'd trained together. Not during the ambush, not during the final fight with Mask, never. There had been flashes of _something_ , but he wouldn't have guessed _that_.

"That was … new," he said, seeing the flare of her pupils in his mind's eye, the way her whole posture and bearing had shifted. "Was like she was possessed or something. It was—"

But he couldn't complete the thought out loud. It wasn't just spooky, seeing the Kryptonian Princess in her full glory, seeing her taking Bruce to task the way she did; it was goddamn _hot._ Jay didn't think he'd ever quite been so turned on by her. And didn't _that_ say something about his tastes? Fuck, he was one sick puppy. But then, maybe it made them the perfect fucked up match. She liked complicated guys, he liked chicks that could wipe the floor with him. Damn.

"I know what you mean," Dick said, answering without either of them needing to say it. "Something you should maybe know, here. Kala's got demons of her own. Luthor, of course, but there was also General Zod."

Jay shivered at that. He'd been just a little kid, when it happened, not even two, but he'd seen the footage later, when he was old enough to know what was going on. The Zod Squad was scary as fuck. All Superman's powers, none of his restraint, and all the ruthlessness of any good Gotham crook.

But wait. "I thought Zod died in prison, years ago," he said with a frown.

Dick looked at him solemnly. "No, he died in Nevada. At Kala's hand."

Jay felt his jaw drop. Those files he couldn't get into, the ones mentioning Nevada, now he had an explanation. And holy _shit_. The girl every Titan was sniggering at, calling her Goth Barbie, at least until he got that new uniform set up. The one even he sometimes thought of Krypton's Princess. Yeah, she had a dark streak in her soul, he'd figured that out between how damn game she was for a fight and how she kept protesting his shiny mental image of her, but _fuck_.

He hadn't known she was a killer.

A killer like him.

"Jesus fuck," he managed to say at last. She'd told him that ship had sailed … he hadn't quite believed her, hadn't even _imagined_ this.

"Both twins have blood on their hands," Dick informed him. "Jason killed one of Luthor's thugs, protecting her, when they were six. Difference is, he didn't know what he was doing. Poor kid panicked and chucked a piano at the guy. But Kala was sixteen. She knew _exactly_ what she was doing."

Jay shivered. _Now_ he had an idea what she'd been holding back, when they were training. She really _was_ fucking lethal, and she knew it. She'd known it all along. Those cold regal eyes, glaring down the Joker, had flashed his way a couple times before she got it under control. Speaking of which… "Shit, you knew that, and you let me piss her off and spar with her?!" he squeaked, his balls drawing up into his belly at the memory. A broken nose was a small price to pay for not taking her seriously. The first kill was the hardest, he knew that—later on they all blurred together in the mind. It wouldn't have taken much for her to make him corpse number two, not even with her powers fading from lack of sunlight.

"We knew she wouldn't kill you," Dick said. "She pulled back _hard_ after Nevada. Too hard, maybe. That's why she stayed out of the game. Except she always knows what's going on with her brother, and if he's in danger, she turns up. She kicked a mission sideways because he was in danger, and just because it all came out right in the end was no excuse for her not to be trained, finally. No one can stop her from getting mixed up in all this, so she had to learn how to do it right. And no matter how pissed off I was at the time, it sure looks like you ended up training her right, in the end. We're all alive and mostly unhurt."

Jay couldn't help shivering again. His first reaction was delayed fear, realizing just what kind of fire he'd been playing with all summer. All the taunts, every time he'd pushed her, he'd been trying to force her to her limit—and he'd never known that her limit was a little bit past 'killing the bad guy'. Damn, she could've killed him _so many times_.

And didn't. Instead, she came damn close to kissing him more than once, especially once she got her powers back. Fuck, she was _playful_ , she'd tossed him around his own training room and _laughed_ when he shot at her, and oh hell, in about a minute of that train of thought his jeans were gonna get way too tight. Dangerous, _knowingly_ dangerous, and hot as hell, and the one thing she had that wasn't his usual type was that layer of sweetness around the steel, how she could be so fucking gentle when he was tired or sore or just bitchy, and the softness of her lips and that damn candyfloss scent of hers—

Fucking _perfect_ , was what she was. Sweet enough to play nice with him, strong enough to play rough, and ruthless enough to kill the motherfuckin' Clown if Bruce hadn't intervened. Oh fuck, he thought he had problems _before_.

Dick was watching all that play out on his face, and shook his head slightly. "And you, brother of mine, are a goner."

Jay huffed. "Tell me something I _don't_ know." His arm twitching as Dick tied off the last suture, he went on, trying to deflect it, "You'd think I'd be over this stupid crush thing by now. I'm a grown ass man, for fuck's sake."

Dick lifted an eyebrow as he wiped down the neat row of sutures and started covering it with gauze and tape. "And knowing what I just told you, you're not scared off, you're practically panting like an elephant in musth. Jesus, Jay, you have issues."

"Fuck off, Dickie-Bird," Jay growled. "I signed up for first aid, not psychoanalysis."

Sighing, Dick shook his head again. "Doesn't mean you can't have feelings for her, you know. And I'm pretty sure she's still got it bad for you, too."

A jolt surged up Jay's spine at that. He'd figured he left it too late. "How exactly do you figure?"

"She stuck by even though she knew she was being exposed to k, dummy."

And that … that was something of a revelation. Considering she hadn't bothered to reply to that damn stupid voicemail he'd sent her when she flew home at the end of the summer—over which he'd spent entirely too many nights agonizing—it seemed to speak volumes. But … but what the fuck did it actually _say?_

Jay couldn't for the life of him figure out just what Kala wanted from him. Was she really into him or not? Was she planning on making him her flirtation on the side? Or was it all just bullshit, and she just couldn't turn her back on the dupe that'd trained her when the chips were down?

Fucking hell.

"There's smoke pouring out of your ears, bro," Dick said then, cutting into his little sidetrack.

Shaking his head, Jay blinked at Dick. "I haven't heard from her since she left. Not till tonight, anyway. So what the fuck is the deal, huh? I don't think I've ever been this fucking turned around." He swiped a hand over his face then. "Goddammit, this is insane. I'm pouring out my feelings like a little girl."

Dick started to pack up the medkit, a little smile on his lips. "It's the venom and antivenin. And the beer. And the company, of course," he added, preening. "And well … I'd say let Kala's actions now tell you where she is. 'Cuz you know the tour is probably eating her brain and her time, otherwise."

The tour. Right. Jesus fuck, Jay had all but forgotten about the tour, having practically barricaded himself in between the Manor and here since Kala had left. So much for blocking it out.

Gazing down at his freshly-treated arm, he fought the urge to pick at the edge of the tape, wishing again for another beer. This night was just getting better and better.

"Think we should probably head back to the Roost, man," he said after a long moment. "I don't want to spend the night in this fucking rat's nest tonight."

Dick's smile softened, and he laid a hand over that damn scar on Jay's belly again, warm and gentle. "You can call it 'home', you know."

For a moment, all Jay could do was stare at Dick—his brother, his fucking brother, dammit, even if it wasn't by birth or from childhood—his mind racing and wishing he could just give in to all this comfort crap. He'd had a crush on Dick when he was a kid, and Dick had always been the one to go to when you needed a hug; the guy was touchy in the good way, he never made you feel like a creep, he was just _there_ , open and willing to share his warmth. Jay knew there was an offer there, in Dick's all-too-understanding gaze, for whatever he needed.

But this wasn't what he wanted right now. Needed, maybe. Could go for, certainly. But he just couldn't, as much as it'd be one hell of a release. Dick _was_ known for being pretty good at his special brand of comfort, after all. No, right now, that'd be one more complication, so Jay just gave him a crooked grin.

"Yeah, home," he said at last, before blowing out a breath. "Food. More beer."

 _Kala…_

Dick didn't take it personally, his hand sliding away, but he smiled – and offered another of his kinds of comfort. "Yes, _home._ We can raid the fridge for a midnight snack when we get there. Sound good?"

Jay nodded, before hopping down from the counter and out of Dick's personal space to go find a clean shirt. At this point, he'd settle for just about anything to get his mind off of this clusterfuck with Kala, short of doing something he'd regret later. And an infamous Grayson Leftovers Sandwich should hit the spot just right, even if it wouldn't calm the restless ache in his chest.

"Sounds perfect."

…

After being checked with several radiation-detection devices to make certain she didn't have any lingering kryptonite dust on her, and a brief check for any bruising from the gunshot—thankfully, it was minimal, and should heal up shortly—Kala underwent a quick 'systems check', as Babs termed it. The usual things she might get in a visit to the doctor: Babs listened to her pulse and breathing, checked her blood pressure, and shone a penlight in her eyes to make sure her pupils contracted equally. But no doctor had ever asked Kala to hover for a full minute, or burn her initials into a piece of scrap wood, or report the song currently being broadcast on Gotham's college radio station.

"Everything checks out," Babs said. "Now, how do you _feel_?"

"Like I have a low-grade cold," Kala admitted. "Mostly I'm just tired. Not like exhausted, just … like I had a really stressful day, all compressed into about an hour."

"Which you did, so that's normal. You should be fine. The kryptonite never touched you, and you weren't exposed for that long."

"What _I_ want to know is, where'd he get k in the first place?" Helena asked.

Dinah shrugged her jacket off and examined her knuckles for blood. "Penguin and Dent both have it. Mask has bought and sold it in the past. Every time the League takes some off the market, more appears."

"It's coming from Luthor," Babs said. "He either has an enormous stockpile that he's very carefully hoarding, or he has the means to _make_ it. Likely the latter, since he did create an island of the stuff once."

That name was enough to make Kala's stomach do a slow roll, and she fought to keep down her gorge at the unwelcome news. "Great. Just great."

Dinah preferred to look on the bright side. "Good news is, if we can ever pin down Luthor, we can almost completely stop the k from hitting the market."

"It's more valuable than platinum or diamonds as it is. If we can stop Luthor, the price will become prohibitively high, enough so to largely shut down the market," Babs said.

Helena had taken off her mask and was combing her fingers through her hair, getting out the snarls. "Sorry, Kala. This is a little more personal for you, isn't it?"

She managed to shrug. "I'll be fine. They're only carrying it in Gotham because Dad and Dopey both drop in from time to time. And it's not like Jay didn't warn me. I just didn't expect it then, or that way. I don't think he figured out that it was affecting me, though."

"Thank God," Dinah said. "Last thing we need is for your identity to be blown."

"Yeah, it'd break the hearts of all the Super-Blur 'shippers," Helena teased.

Kala stuck her tongue out. "Sickly, I think it's pronounced 'Supeblur'. Ugh. But at least it's useful. No one's gonna guess Superboy and the Blur are twins when they all think we're shackin'. Best part is, they don't even get evidence."

Babs corrected her with a dry chuckle. "You're in a band. You know the 'shippers don't need anything so mundane as _evidence_. You were in the same room with him at least once, so it's a valid 'ship."

"I'm so glad I'm only following about half this conversation," Dinah said.

Helena smirked. "Because you're never online, Canary. Babs, show her that superhero fanfic site sometime. Wait until you see what they say about _us_. The general public has no idea about Oracle, but they see you and I fighting side by side."

Babs shot her a look, Dinah raised an eyebrow, and Kala chuckled. Lucky her, between being a cape and being a singer, she had two varieties of fanfic being written about her. KLK was known to be a Blur fan, if she worked at it she might even end up with someone 'shipping her with herself.

But that lighthearted thought faded as her mind turned to the very quiet slow-burn she was writing in the privacy of her own heart. "Hey," she said, turning thoughtful eyes on Babs. "Is Jay all right? I mean, _really_ all right." If anyone would know, it would be Babs.

The redhead glanced at her computer screen. "He's in his apartment, and Dick's with him, probably patching him up. Jay will be fine, Kala. He wasn't seriously hurt, and he had you for backup. To be honest, you make for fairly impressive and reassuring backup."

Her instinctive denial of that – as the newbie, she wasn't impressing anyone – was forestalled by Bruce walking toward them from the shadows. Babs turned to him with no surprise and asked, "Do I need to update my security?"

"No, it should be sufficient for most intruders," he replied.

And before he even turned to Kala, she was cringing. "Uncle Bruce, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"

"Oh, _stop_ already," Babs said peevishly. "If we wanted abject guilty misery, we'd buy an un-house-broken spaniel."

"No apology is necessary," Bruce informed her. "After all, you didn't say anything you didn't mean, did you?"

All Kala could do was wince. It was more complicated than that. "I—" But her phone, which she normally didn't carry on missions, chose that moment to vibrate. This being an emergency call-in, she'd kept it handy, and she quickly took it out, grateful for the escape from Bruce's severe blue eyes.

The text message that had come in wasn't a relief, though. _Almost back. U still awake?_ "Oh, shit. The boys are on their way back to the hotel—an hour early. I've gotta get there before they do."

Bruce nodded. "Then go. Get some sun as soon as you can. I want you back in Gotham within a week for a re-evaluation."

"Yes, sir," she said, hardly able to believe she was being let off this lightly. No dressing-down from Babs or Bruce … although he wanted her back soon, and he'd probably scold her then. Still, it would be easier to take without the memory of this night fresh in her mind.

Saying goodnight to the girls, Kala took to the sky, knowing she had only moments before the boys got back to the hotel room.

…

What a fucking day. Sprawled out in his bed in the Manor, Jay was still exhausted but goddamn wide-awake. Wired. Screwy from the venom/antivenin mix, despite the four beers he'd managed to knock back since he and Dick had gotten home. And he was warm and clean and fed and didn't have a mark on him, other than the one. The only thing that was missing was a little satisfaction, but talking to Dick after they got back had largely killed the mood. Thankfully. So why was he staring at the ceiling?

Easy answer. Kala. And Joker.

This was the first time he could remember going up against Joker and not coming out of it with the urge to either kill his weight in drug dealers or drink himself into a stupor. Because Kala had stepped in front of him, because Kala had been ready and willing to take Joker out to protect him. _Kala_ , whom he'd known for a little over two months. She'd stood up to save _him,_ to back him up and take on his burden, when Bruce and Dick and the rest wouldn't.

Never mind that they had their own complicated philosophies for why they wouldn't put that crazy fuck in the ground where he belonged. For Jay, it was personal, always was and always would be. They could debate about killing _other_ villains, and he'd mostly been toeing the line since he came back to Gotham this year. But Joker … no question there. Jay figured, as someone who was as good as murdered by the sick fuck, he had the _right_ to take Joker out.

And … Kala was a little more fucked-up in the head than he'd thought. Where that icy darkness had come from, he hadn't known 'til tonight, but _damn_ was it powerful. And she had to be reasonably in control of it, or Bruce wouldn't let her run around Gotham. A few more things about Kala made sense now. The way he'd had to push her, _hard_ , to get past her hesitancy in sparring. The way she'd sometimes looked at him when he'd hit her, bruising that perfect skin. That hadn't just been anger looking out at him. It had been something willing to kill to defend itself.

Jesus fuck, somebody should've warned him, but he had a feeling that only Bruce and Dick and Babs had known about it. And while Dick had held out until it became obvious, Bruce _never_ shared his Bat-secrets if he could help it. Dammit, his secrecy had led to other soldiers falling in the past, and Jay had already been lost once…

He shook himself out of that train of thought when his phone chirped. Grumbling, he looked at the little screen, and his brain screeched to a halt.

The message just didn't make sense at first. _I just got in. Jay, are you okay?_

What the…? Kala was asking him, via text no less, if he was _okay?_ Jay stared at the phone, his brow furrowing and a sudden headache coming on. _No, I'm not okay, dammit. I fucking saw the sonofabitch who damn near killed me, felt his breath on my helmet, saw him fucking_ _ **shoot**_ _you in the chest, and then you pulled out some Kryptonian Royal Badassery and would've straight-up killed his ass if Bruce hadn't been there,_ he ranted to himself. _So n_ _o, I'm not oh-fucking-kay! I don't know what the fuck to think, and you're still dodging that damn voicemail where I poured my heart out like a high-school_ _ **girl**_ _, and yet you're avoiding me, but then you damn near kill my nightmare for me, and then you skip out without seeing me and send me a text of twenty-five fucking characters?! Seriously?_

A long breath as he composed himself then, and he set to replying to her fucking short text. All he typed in, though, was _Sure_.

Though he laid awake for half an hour after that, she never replied.

Fucking figured.

…

Kala beat the boys home by mere minutes; she could hear them in the lobby as she stripped out of her uniform, glad of the single zipper Jay had designed for her. Then she hid the uniform, grabbed the clothes she'd been wearing before … and got a whiff of her own hair. Smoke, smog, dust, adrenaline-sweat, and a touch of hyena, too. _Yuck._ No way could she let Sebast and the rest of the band get near her with this melee of stench on her, so she dove into the bathroom just as Sebast's keycard clicked the door open, not a moment to spare.

When she turned on the water in the bath, he yelled through the door, "Kala! Wait a sec, _mi corazon_ , I haven't seen you all night!"

"No way, I just finished working out in the fitness center and I stink. Five minutes isn't going to kill you, _querido,_ " she called back.

Sebast laughed. "Yeah, right, like a little chick sweat's gonna bother me. We dance together, remember?" He was right on the other side of the door, and Kala instantly thumbed the lock to keep him out. There was no way she could chance it, especially when it was this obvious. He rattled the doorknob. "The hell, _mi_ Kala?"

A slight touch of outrage was in his voice then, loud and clear to her. And it hurt. But what was the other option? God, she'd cut it so close this time. "Seriously, Chupi, just _wait_ _!_ I promise you won't die. Just breathe," she called, turning on the showerhead.

Instead, he jumped against the door like a crazed puppy. "Since when do you lock me out of the bathroom, Kala? We've showered _together_ , remember?"

"Not this time! Good God, Sebast, sometimes a girl needs a little privacy!" And speaking of privacy, there was one more thing she had to do before the band surrounded her like some kind of blob-monster. She'd hoped that maybe, just maybe, she could have diverted just long enough to check in with Jay after she'd left the Clock Tower, but the boys getting out earlier than expected had put the kibosh on that plan. Still, trapped as she was, she couldn't stop worrying over him. After all that happened tonight, he was sure to be a little off-kilter. Or a lot. Sure, he was a big boy and everything, but … at least hearing from him might just calm her fretting over the entire mess, from the Joker to her freak-out, and make sleeping possible. Maybe. Taking a deep breath, hoping he'd answer, Kala sent a hurried text to Jay.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the door, Sebast scoffed. "Oh, please. We got Brazilians together. We have no privacy from each other." His fingers appeared under the crack in the door, wiggling at her

 _Maybe that's part of our problem. Maybe that's why the edges got blurred._ _Maybe that's why I feel so goddamn lost at the moment._ She wouldn't say that out loud, though. Couldn't. And Jay's reply came in before she could figure out what to say, the terseness of it shocking her. _'Sure'? That's it?_ Her stomach went sour. The only reason she could figure for this coldness was her behavior earlier. Jay had seen her go totally off the rails, had seen her act completely different, and it had to have freaked him out. He probably thought she had a split personality or something, and he had enough crazy drama in his life.

Before Kala could figure out what to say, Sebast jiggled the doorknob again. "Hey, c'mon, step out for a minute and let me in! I miss you, Kala."

Gritting her teeth, Kala took a deep breath and resisted the urge to throw her phone at the mirror. Goddammit, this was too much to freaking deal with. Ignoring the mix of feelings all twisted up in her chest, her eyes burning a little, Kala shoved her phone into the pile of her clothes and hopped into the shower, stifling a yelp when she realized she'd set the temperature too cold in her haste. "Oh, for God's sake. _No_ , just wait, you impatient brat!" she yelled to Sebast, using a little super-speed to get cleaned up. The last thing she needed was _two_ pouty boys in her life.

When she stepped back out five minutes later, swathed in two towels and carrying her clothes and the phone, Sebast pounced on her, laughing and blowing in her ear. Shrieking in mingled surprise, aggravation, and delight, Kala completely forgot about sending Jay a longer message to ask what his deal was. She'd almost been afraid to get an answer, anyway, if she were honest with herself. It was something of a relief to box away the events of earlier in the evening, although she knew they would return in her sleep.

Within the hour the boys had completely taken over her mind. Especially Sebast, who kept watching her out of the corner of his eye.

…

Still at the Clock Tower, Bruce, Dinah, and Helena all debriefed Babs, filling in what she didn't already know from surveillance. "And Joker and Harley are back in Arkham again," Dinah finished.

"Good," Babs said. "For the record, Bruce, I'm glad Jay didn't kill him. Not because I care whether Joker lives or dies—I'm well past that—but because I know what it'd do to Jay. And to you."

Not unexpectedly, Bruce completely failed to respond to that. "Jay will be fine. We all did our jobs tonight, and no one was harmed beyond a few scratches."

One of the things Dinah enjoyed most about her privileged and well-connected position was watching Bruce and Babs spar, and she sat back now as they talked at crossroads to each other.

"Also for the record," Babs went on, ignoring his downplaying of the night's events, "I saw what you just did with Kala. It's sometimes educating to watch a master manipulator at work. By refusing to accept her apology, you left her with enough guilt and shame that she'll work twice as hard to suppress her dark side."

Bruce didn't acknowledge that either, and Helena piped up. "Speaking of her dark side, what the _hell?_ Is anyone going to tell me what happened back there?"

"No, Hel," Dinah told her, gently. "It goes back to something that happened when she was a kid, and we have no right to share it around."

"But everyone else seems to know," Helena pointed out.

"Only the ones who were there—" Dinah said, pointing at herself and Bruce, then at Babs, "—and the one who knows _everything_ know about it, Hel."

"Look, I'm not being nosy, but if this is something dangerous, anyone who works with her on a regular basis ought to be warned. And Jay didn't know."

"He does now," Bruce said.

Dinah rolled her eyes slightly. "I don't think she's dangerous to anyone who doesn't threaten her. She's got it under control—the only thing we've seen that brought it out was the kryptonite exposure and the Joker being in her face, and those were pretty extreme circumstances."

"She was also being protective of her trainer," Babs added. "Without Jay there, she likely would've run and let us handle it. But because he was there, and Joker threatened him, she went for Joker. In other words, Helena, she's not a threat to us. She's a threat to anyone who tries to come after us."

"All Kryptonians are dangerous," Bruce said. "Kala has the hottest temper of the four currently living, but now she also has the best control of that temper." And on that note, he left the same way he came: silently.

Five minutes later, after some post-fight riffing on Babs' encyclopedic knowledge of other people's business, Helena finally sat up and said, "Wait—did he say _four_ living Kryptonians? My count is three. Does Big Blue have another kid or something?"

"Of course not. If he did, Lois would've kicked his ass," Dinah chuckled.

"I've met her. Lois Lane is not a woman to cross," Babs added, and the two of them traded a look, leaving Helena mystified. _They_ remembered who the fourth Kryptonian was: Non, who was still in a secure psychiatric facility. After the revelation of General Zod's returned powers, the last of the trio had been carefully kept out of the sun.

The fact that he was still alive, and despite losing his powers had hardly aged perceptibly, was something that the League kept fairly quiet. One unprecedented villainous return like Zod's was one too many, especially considering the fallout from it.


	43. Through the Glass Darkly

Harley stared at her cell door. She was still in Arkham's standard intake hold – and she'd earned some extra time for having the temerity to question the meds she'd been prescribed. Really, the fresh-faced young clinician could've _used_ some pointers. Histrionic personality disorder? _Lame._ They always went for that, because the first damn symptom the lecturers at Gotham U liked to mention was 'excessively sexualized clothing'. Harley scoffed; she wore tight clothes because one, _she_ liked the way she looked in them, and two, it was easier to knock a guy out if he was busy staring at her cleavage when he should've been fighting.

Mistah J liked the look on her, too, which was a nice added bonus. But _not_ her primary motivation.

The DSM 5 considered histrionic personality disorder an obsolete diagnosis, but those dried-up old sticks still taught it like psychology wasn't an evolving field. Most of 'em wouldn't know original research, or how to think outside the box, if it bit them in the ass.

 _Someone_ was teaching out of more modern texts, though, because the clinician assigned to her had included hybristophilia in her diagnosis. That was an interesting one, though Harley disagreed with its application to _her_. The bad things Mistah J did weren't what turned her on, although breaking all the world's rules was _definitely_ fun. It was the _good_ stuff, that only she got to see, that got her revved up. He could be so incredibly romantic … until she inevitably screwed up. When he got frustrated with her, Harley could empathize – most people couldn't keep up with his genius. It wasn't his fault. She just had to get better. She had to be good enough for him, then everything would be fine.

Anyway, even if she _had_ agreed with the boneheaded diagnosis, the treatment plan was _stupid_. Harley had recognized the pills brought to her, and scoffed aloud. " _Trilafon?_ Ugh, no, that's for schizophrenia, what're you _thinking_? Besides, all the phenothiazines make me itch. Try Loxitane if you _have_ to go for typical antipsychotics, I haven't had that one yet."

The orderly wouldn't listen, didn't care, and her refusal to take the pills got her locked into the restraint chair and dosed up with Haldol and Thorazine. Once she came down from that, they switched her onto Seroquel, which made the days in solitary float by. Harley hated the way that one ruined her concentration, but while she was on it she couldn't stay focused on being mad about it. It wasn't doing any good, so they weaned her off that onto something not even she had heard of. Which meant someone was doing clinical trials in a facility designed for the criminally insane – wasn't that a joke?

Harley wasn't completely certain, but it felt like a week since she'd been hauled back to Arkham. Hard to tell, with no clock or calendar or window, only meals and medication to judge by – and were the pills being administered twice a day, or four times a day? She'd scratched faint lines into her forearm with a fingernail at each drugging, never enough to get herself on a 1:1 suicide watch, just enough to judge the passing of time by how it healed. Still, she'd lost a couple days to the Vitamin H cocktail that left her zoned out.

If her estimation was right, they'd be moving her to a regular cell in another few days. Not with Mistah J, she'd never get _that_ lucky, but crowding was always an issue at Arkham so she expected she'd have to share space. Harley knew most of the regular players in Gotham, and knew she could get along with or intimidate most of them. The only thing she worried about was being transferred. That damn Waller sure liked having her on the Suicide Squad, and if she sent for Harley, it'd be that much harder to get out … and get Joker out, too.

That was the goal, of course. Get herself and her Puddin' out of this miserable old heap before the Wall – or anyone worse – realized they were here.

…

Jay woke up the next morning intending to head over to the Clock Tower and read Babs the riot act. She'd known about this with Kala and General Zod in Nevada, and she'd kept it from him. He expected that from Bruce, but _Babs?_ Babs was supposed to be all friendly and inviting, the good big sister doing all the nice stuff like sending him cookies and a comm unit. And it turned out – as was typical – that the whole time she was holding something back. Now she owed him this Nevada Protocol, and he intended to collect.

When he checked his phone, though, he realized that Babs evidently felt the same, because she'd sent him a message that simply read, _Check your email from the downstairs computer._ Of course, whatever was in the Nevada Protocol was highly sensitive information, she wouldn't send it to an unsecured phone or laptop.

He headed down, grabbing a late breakfast that Alfred had thoughtfully kept warm, and when Dick turned questioning eyes his way Jay only said, "Need to use the Bat computer."

"What for?" Dick asked, his brow furrowing.

Because Tim was in the hallway with him, and they both looked suspicious, Jay replied, "Porn."

Tim sneered and Dick rolled his eyes, so Jay shrugged. "I need the big screen to see all the action. Don't worry, I'll wipe up when I'm done."

"You are disgusting," Tim said flatly.

"I know," Jay retorted, leering theatrically at the kid. "And you're sick, if you've _never_ watched porn."

"Not my style," was all Tim replied.

Dick cut in before they could get snarking in earnest. "I know it's not porn, Jay. C'mon, dish? Pretty please?"

And damn if he didn't work those baby blues when he asked. Jay let out an aggravated sigh through his nose. "Babs wants me to read something on a secure line, okay? Who am I to thwart the will of Big Sister?"

Dick just nodded, looking somber, and Jay figured he could guess what it was. He continued down the stairs, the scrambled eggs and pancakes looking less appetizing.

Only when he was in front of the Bat computer did he realize he didn't want to log into his email from here. So he sent Babs a text. _I'm here. Not leaving my login around. Send._

The screen lit up – nicely confirming that she _could_ remote in to the big computer – and he saw Kala's file pop up. There was the Nevada Protocol, and he clicked on it, his mouth dry. It asked for identity verification, and to Jay's surprise he actually had to scan his thumbprint _and_ retina to read the damn thing. What the hell was so juicy…?

He swallowed, flung head-first into an account of Kala's kidnapping. At age sixteen. This was a dry, technical retelling, noting that Luthor had placed spies around her family and manipulated her into running away from home. She'd been gone less than a day when Luthor picked her up, immediately drugged and transported halfway across the country.

Her family had been frantic, unraveling what they thought was a runaway and finding a kidnapping by their worst enemy. Jay read the side note that attempts had been made on her father's life, her stepmother, her stepsister, her brother, her mother, her stepfather … Jesus _fuck_ , Luthor was one cold sonofabitch.

And that was just the background.

Jay's chest got tight as he read that Kala had been held for almost a week, her arm broken on the first day, and that Luthor had let his employees threaten her to try and gain her compliance faster. Some 'smartest man alive', that was the _worst_ thing he could've done. A girl like Kala would fight to the death rather than be intimidated. Luthor had wanted her to decipher some Kryptonian crystals. He needed Kala because his other Kryptonian code-cracker, General Zod, wasn't getting results.

Kala had allied herself with Zod against Luthor. For which Jay could only be thankful, despite how much it chilled him. Zod was the Supers' own version of … well, Ra's al Ghul, he supposed. Scary powerful, scary knowledgeable, scary genocidal megalomaniac, in the world-ending type of crazy way. As dangerous as it got, and Kala had taken _his_ side. And still, _that_ was better than helping Luthor get his hands on Kryptonian weapons.

Everything had gone to hell for Luthor, though. He'd only _almost_ killed Lois Lane; the intrepid reporter was still alive and kicking ass and taking names to this day. And rather than be distracted by yet another attack on her, Superman and Superboy had gone straight to Luthor's lair to save Kala.

There was a note there, linking to another document, something that mentioned Empress. Jay left that alone, instead reading how it had all ended, how Zod and Superman had been fighting each other when Luthor moved to kill them all, and how Kala had beaten Luthor to the kryptonite gun.

She'd killed General Zod with it. Luthor had run for it, setting the facility to self-destruct. Kala had barely escaped with her life. Jay shivered; it was too close. Luthor had rigged the whole place to blow, just like Joker had with him.

He clicked over to the Empress document, and the _real_ chills started.

…

In the dressing room, Kala went over her last-minute checks. Her makeup was fine, the first of four outfits was correct, her boots were laced. She took a deep breath, checking the corset – it still let her breathe, but it was tight enough not to slip. The last thing she needed was a wardrobe malfunction; there _was_ such a thing as too much exposure, at least when it came to skin.

The stylists and sound techs had been buzzing around her, but for a few brief moments she was alone, able to breathe and get her mind right. Kala hummed scales, warming up her voice, and listened to the stage.

The opening band was local, and pretty good. They had the crowd warmed up nicely, and Kala could feel the tension rising out there. It was the right kind of tension, an energetic connection that spun up and up and _up,_ until the moment when she and the band stepped onto the stage. From the moment the spotlights hit them, the show was _on_ , and they lived for the rush.

They'd come so far now, from playing clubs and opening for other bands, to a couple good tours, and now _this_ , with venues selling out left and right. The first two shows had been in Metropolis, and they'd both sold out, packed houses and plenty of backstage passes, even news coverage. Kala had been in her parents' newspaper, first page in the Arts and Entertainment section, one of the proudest moments of her life.

She looked at her reflection and took another deep breath. Utterly insane to think that a little more than a week ago she'd been waiting in the shadows for a very different kind of cue, the Blur on the hunt with the Bats. Kala shook her head. She was lucky – and probably a little crazy – to have both kinds of adrenaline rush, seizing a crowd with her voice and taking down bad guys with superpowers. She wanted _both_ lives, rockstar and hero, KLK and Kala Kal-El, and from where she stood at the moment, the only way to make it all work seemed to be giving up on ever getting a full night's sleep again.

"So worth it," she murmured, and let the Blur's newfound fierceness blaze in her heavily-lined eyes.

Sebast came in, without knocking as usual, just as keyed up as she was. "C'mon, _querida_ , they're gonna be calling our names in a minute," he said, catching her hand. "You can preen at your reflection later."

"That's _you_ , you vain Goth peacock," Kala laughed, but she ran with him to the green room, where the boys were already waiting.

Just outside that door, Sebast pulled her close, hugging her tight. "Sooner or later you're gonna tell me what the hell is on your mind, _mi_ Kala," he whispered. She looked at him, confused, but there was no time left, and Morgan opened the green room door to pull them both in.

Every band had their own warm-up routine, for the last few minutes before a show. Kala's pack of heathens were practically bouncing in place, itching to get out there and do their thing. She and Sebast walked in on Ned with Robb in a headlock, both of them laughing like loons. Derek, who was in the room with them and would give the countdown to head onstage, just looked at both of them in dismay.

"You see what I put up with?" Morgan laughed, his eyes bright.

"You love it," Sebast chortled, and lunged at him. That broke Robb and Ned apart, and for a moment they all chased Morgan around the room, climbing over furniture in their carousing. Kala took a certain amount of snide pleasure in Derek's horror as she ran across the back of a sturdy couch set against the wall.

Morgan grabbed a water bottle and mimed throwing it at Sebast, who squeaked, "Nooooo, I'm melting, I'm _melting_ ," like the Wicked Witch of the West, and all of them burst into laughter.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Kala drew the comparison between the summer and tonight. The feeling was the same, linked up with a group of disparate personalities and talents, united by a common goal. They goofed around and teased each other before heading out to do what they did best, because a little levity went a long way to keeping them sane in a business that was by definition kind of crazy.

And when the moment came, when Derek at the door got the nod from the venue manager and told them it was go time, the five of them moved as one, Kala taking point. Here, Sebast was beside her, and it was an amphitheater full of screaming fans instead of a warehouse full of armed goons, but her heart thundered to the challenge just the same.

Even her lingering doubts – Jay's reaction to her dark side, Sebast's unnerving fixation on some change in her since the summer – disappeared as the spotlights hit. The rush was as strong as sunlight, and Kala threw her arms out, basking in it, as thousands of people screamed her name.

Her initials, really, a thundering chant of "KLK! KLK!" seeming to rock the whole enormous building, and oh it _was_ vain to love this, but she couldn't deny it. Kala stepped up to the microphone, and it was still the same dizzying thrill as the very first time in that coffeehouse. She looked out at the packed house and called to them, "Hello, Boston!"

The roar that answered was wordless, but it rang in her blood as Sebast echoed her and did the intro. They swung right into the first song of the set, a duet that showcased both their voices, and she let the song rise up through her, carried on the current the crowd was putting out. This was everything she'd ever wanted…

… the only problem was, she had a completely different costume locked up in a hidden compartment of her suitcase back on the van, and that too was everything she'd ever wanted. But with the music pulsing in her veins and the crowd cheering her name, Kala gave herself over to the part of herself that wanted _this_ dream the most.

…

Jay wondered if Babs had a psych profile like this on him, too. He kind of hoped not, fucked up as he was, but she was too thorough _not_ to have one. If he asked, would she let him read it? Or would that be too much of a head trip? He shoved all of that to the back of his mind and just read the file in front of him.

 **Codename Empress**

AKA Kala Kal-El

 **Background:** The Blur displays a form of complex post-traumatic stress disorder that manifests in a dissociated personality state. (NOTE: Comparisons to purely human psychology must be made carefully, as she is half Kryptonian and their psychology is unknown, though comparable to human. Her psychiatrist, from whose notes this protocol was drawn, was unaware he was treating a hybrid and classed her under purely human terms.) Probable cause of her C-PTSD is related to trauma, captivity, and mental manipulation by General Zod. Result is the Empress, an alternate personality who defends herself ruthlessly, and will use lethal measures. This ego state may have begun with her imprisonment on Luthor's kryptonite island, and being thrown into the open ocean by same, at the age of six. It did not fully manifest until her captivity at sixteen, and was actively encouraged and shaped by Zod.

Blur is the dominant personality, in control most of the time and in all normal civilian interactions. Her alternate ego state is mostly submerged, surfacing only in times of great danger and stress, typically when Blur's life is threatened.

They are fundamentally the same person, unlike typical dissociative identity disorder. They are the same age, display mostly the same personality. They share a sense of self but their behavior and reactions are distinct. Empress is more aggressive, more reactive, more imperious, and more disdainful. Blur is aware of this personality and remembers what she has done as the Empress. The Empress is equally aware of her and what Blur has done. Blur views Empress as a monster to keep subjugated; Empress views Blur as a child who must be protected.

 **Manifestation:** Blur reports that she 'hears' the Empress in her mind occasionally when under stress. This is not a symptom of schizophrenia, she is aware that the voice is internal and illusory. Internal voices are often reported with PTSD and DID, and given that the Empress is her 'survivor' personality state, this internal voice is not a particularly worrisome symptom. (Note: Most neurotypical asymptomatic people do report internal voices to some degree, often of conscience, as the common reports of 'my better instincts told me' or 'the angel on my shoulder says'. Other people report internal voices related to survival which are typically attributed to a 'guardian angel', for example a voice saying 'don't go down that alley' and learning later that someone was killed there that night.) Vocal manifestation of the Empress should be of minimal concern, and Blur likely will not self-report unless an observer notes a 'listening' expression on her face.

Any situation in which Blur's life is seriously threatened could wake the Empress personality and cause her to take control. Particularly in response to green kryptonite radiation, which she has suffered before and which almost killed her during her last exposure.

Attempting to directly address the Empress does not elicit a manifestation; this makes Blur extremely uncomfortable, however, because she actively suppresses that ego state. However, given the history of hypnosis used to elicit and explore DID alters, where that therapy seems to increase the strength and number of alter egos, hypnosis of any kind is counter-indicated for Blur. Let sleeping dogs lie.

 **Behavioral notes:** Empress always uses formal phrasing in English, and prefers Kryptonese. Her posture and body language are much more rigid and 'correct'. She takes offense to the use of her given name and insists on being addressed as Kala Kal-El – which is her proper name under Kryptonian convention. She thinks and behaves more like a pure Kryptonian than the hybrid she is, and in fact has a noticeable Kryptonopolis accent in her Kryptonese. She speaks of her dominant personality as 'the child' or 'the girl'.

When presented with a threat to her life, the Empress will react to neutralize it by whatever means necessary, including lethal force. Given her powers, of which she is very much aware, this can result in an enemy's death before any intervention can reach her. She is extremely aggressive and treats any intervention as a threat to herself. DO NOT ENGAGE.

Repeat, DO NOT ENGAGE. Empress is particularly sensitive to betrayal and will not spare former allies who appear to turn against her.

 **Strike notes:** The Empress personality will fold on confrontation with her father, Superman. Kryptonian society is highly patriarchal, and her human side also has a strong attachment to him. A typical Kryptonian will not betray his or her father even in extreme circumstances, and Empress is no different in that regard. Empress may also collapse back into Blur once the threat is eliminated.

If she remains in control or Superman cannot be summoned, she MUST be brought down. Blue kryptonite and tranquilizers at double the human dosage are the recommended protocol. Green kryptonite will further enrage her, DO NOT USE GREEN KRYPTONITE.

Jay sat back, staring at the screen. After a while, he managed to say out loud, "Jesus fuck," but it had none of his usual venom.

No wonder Bruce had let him train her. What Kala needed most was a damn good handle on this shit, and who better to poke and prod her into refining her control than the ex-dead Robin? Thank fuck she'd understood that he wasn't beating on her just to be an asshole; Kala would've turned on him if she thought he was really trying to hurt her.

The voice of self-preservation in the back of his mind spoke up then, and asked him if he _really_ wanted to pursue … whatever this was between him and Kala? Considering that she could probably bring his whole apartment building down in the middle of a bad flashback. Hell, at least the worst _he'd_ ever actually done with his demons riding on his shoulders had been killing drug dealers and pimps. Kala could do so much more … a chill ran down Jay's back at the thought.

Problem was, he couldn't decide how much of it was trepidation, and how much was arousal. Yeah, he was one fucked-up puppy all right. He told self-preservation to get lost; Kala hadn't thrown him into the sun or anything yet, and he'd given her plenty of reason. Most likely she wouldn't. And even if she did, it'd at least be a change from getting beaten half to death and blown up.

He picked up his phone and called Babs. "Okay, I'm not mad about the cameras anymore," he told her. "Not that it would've done much good if she decided to toast me."

"She's more like you than you thought," Babs said, sidestepping neatly. "Both of you are so determined not to fail because you were both scared teenagers backed into a corner and forced to survive any way you could. I only agreed to let you train her because I knew you could be professional about it. And I agreed to keep this from you _while_ you trained her because, if you didn't really believe how lethal she can be, you'd try to call it up and play with it. And the less we see of the Empress, the better."

"I might have to argue that," Jay said thoughtfully. "Why Empress, anyway?"

"It's what Kala calls her," Babs told him. "She's regal enough, isn't she?"

"Hot damn yes," Jay replied, and scowled. The eagerness in his own voice was way too telling. "Okay, you're right, if I'd known from the start I _would_ want to play with it. Jesus fuck, Babs, she's the sunniest person I know, barring maybe Steph – and that's a _big_ maybe. And she's got a dark side scarier than mine."

"Your dark side is pretty scary," Babs admitted. "Don't bring this up to her. She's deeply ashamed of it."

"Shit, she's got no reason to be," Jay scoffed.

"Don't be too sure," Babs warned. "She _is_ one of the sunniest people we know. She takes her legacy very seriously. And she wants very badly to be the daughter her father wants her to be – the one he believes her to be. She wants to be _good_ , Jay."

"She _is_ ," he protested, and never mind the chill up his neck every time he remembered those wrathful eyes turned toward _him_. "The blackest part of her crawled up out of its cage and all it wanted was to defend _my_ fucked-up ass. She'd kill the Clown for me, Babs."

"I know. She said as much, when I told her what happened to me. If we're not careful, Bruce is going to be _very_ upset with her." And there was no regret in Babs' voice there, either. "She thinks it's vengeance, but it's _protectiveness_. She cares about you and me – probably slightly more for you, considering – and she'd crush him like a cockroach to keep him from hurting either of us again."

"Should've let her see the fuckin' drill that Black Mask left on his desk for me and Timmy, she'd flatten him too," Jay grunted.

"Yes, she would," Babs replied patiently. "And where would she stop? Two-Face? Penguin? Riddler? _Could_ she stop? And what would it do to our rogues in Gotham, if all of a sudden they started dropping dead with laser-bored holes in their foreheads and no warning at all? Do you have any idea the _scale_ of retribution we'd face?"

Like Jay didn't know the current game of masks and capes was an ever-escalating arms race. Bruce had rules, the bad guys didn't, so when he dropped them in the hospital, they tried to put his kids in the morgue. If Kala wiped out all of their bad guys, the _next_ round would be much worse.

Babs was still talking. "Not to mention, what would it do to _her_? When she came out of it and had to face her father with God knows how many deaths on her hands? Don't think it matters to her that they're killers; against her, they'd be almost defenseless. You think _you_ were bad, Jay, her kind can kill so easily that half their training is learning _not_ to kill. She could break necks with a slap. Worse, if she gets angry enough, what happens when someone like Catwoman gets in her way?"

He shivered then, thinking about how close he'd come to killing people who didn't by any stretch of the imagination deserve it. With Lazarus green flaring in the corners of his vision, he'd only wanted to kill and destroy until he silenced all the voices inside and out that doubted and feared him. Jay had never murdered an innocent … and he knew that was partly luck. "Okay, yeah, I'm properly scared," he said.

"Never mind any of the legal or public relations ramifications of a Super turning killer," Babs continued. "Never mind that if our justice system wasn't fundamentally flawed here in Gotham, we wouldn't have to deal with these people back on the street after a short rest in Arkham. Let's just look at what it means for _us._ It would break Kala, to kill just one innocent. Just one gray-area. It would stain her soul to kill another villain, but to go that far? It would _break her_ , and Jay … if she breaks, it's either over, or she goes full-time Empress. And then we _all_ have to fight her. Her father could stop her … but could he make himself? Don't get me wrong, he loves his son, those two are cut from the same cloth, but Kala's his brave baby girl. That's the little girl he never imagined and fell head over heels for, the moment he met her. That's the one who reminds him so much of the love of his life."

"Jesus fuck in a sidecar," Jay muttered. "Babs, seriously. I get it. Let's _not_ go all post-apocalyptic and destroy the Supers along the way, okay? It's not gonna be that damn bad."

"Let's not destroy the Bats, either," Babs said, with curious gentleness. "We almost did, losing you. And no one wants to lose you again. No one wants to lose her, either. Symbol or not, she's Gotham's now."

"Well I ain't lettin' her go crazy or anything," Jay said. "Just … if she wants to kill the Clown, I'm helping her, not stopping her. If I can't do it first. I don't give a shit for anybody's philosophy, that fucker as good as killed me. If _anybody_ has the right to revenge, it's me, and I'll put him down without a second thought."

"Did I disagree with you?" Babs asked. "If there's anyone Kala could forgive herself for – anyone her father can forgive her for – it's Joker. Bruce can't, but we both know Bruce is leaning way too far over that abyss."

Jay scoffed. "Yeah, yeah, he can't kill one because he'd never quit. It's true that killing gets easier the more of it you do, too easy. I'd know. But they're not fucking Pringles, once you pop you _can_ stop. Seriously, Babs, I don't see a psych profile about _his_ goddamn PTSD."

"You think he doesn't have it, too?" Babs said. "News flash, Jay, pretty much all of us are textbook C-PTSD cases. Sane people only become superheroes if they're metahuman. Kala and I might be the only ones with an official diagnosis, but that's because we're the only ones who actually went to therapy instead of just sublimating our issues under a layer of other people's blood."

"Ouch," Jay said, hoping she'd take a hint. He was _not_ going to therapy, fuck that.

"While we're on the topic, haven't you noticed that Bruce and the Bat aren't quite the same?" Babs continued. "You're you, in the mask or out of it. Just as sarcastic in uniform, just as defensive in plainclothes. I really, _really_ wonder about Bruce, sometimes. And why he has that ugly Mayan statue in the trophy room."

"It's because it's a bat," Jay scoffed. "A really ugly, really creepy bat. He started the whole Batman thing because he was scared of bats and wanted to be scary, right? So he keeps that creepy shit around to get in the mood. It's _ambiance_."

She laughed. "You know Bruce delves deeper into symbolism than that. The statue happens to be Camazotz, a Mayan god associated with death and the night. The name literally means 'the death bat'. If Bruce is meditating on anything _that_ gruesome, I have to wonder just how divided he is."

Jay just snorted. "Okay, yeah, he's no better off than me. But we all know that Bruce is just a front. The whole playboy thing is a cover."

"No, sometimes I think Bruce – the real Bruce – is still standing in that alley watching his parents fall," Babs said, softly. "Everything since then has been the Bat, and the Bat pretending to be Bruce."

"This is why you're not a shrink," Jay told her. "All your patients would off themselves. Fucking cheer up, Babs, it doesn't have to be that dramatic. Bruce found a shtick that worked really, really well. And if he has to tell himself he's two people, fine. We all lie to ourselves to get along."

"Really? What lies are you telling yourself, then?" Babs asked curiously.

"That the nosy redhead really has everyone's best interests at heart, and isn't just a major control freak who has to have her fingers in every pie in Gotham?" Jay shot back.

She paused, and he heard faint laughter behind her. "No comments from the peanut gallery, Songbird," Babs scolded, and Jay snorted. "I _do_ have everyone's best interests at heart. If you doubt that, I'll have to send more cookies."

He sneered, but couldn't make a sarcastic reply. The changes in his life over the last six months or so, from running solo and always checking over his shoulder for Bats, to living in the Manor whenever he pleased, working _with_ the people he really did want to trust, were too obvious to ignore. Jay liked his independence, but he didn't feel shackled to Bruce and the gang these days. He was welcome here, and still allowed to do his own thing.

Bruce had been willing to let him come home, and completely unable to communicate that. Babs was right about that, Bruce probably was the most mentally fucked-up of all of them. So it had been Babs who made the first move, who offered to include him, no strings attached. He could be pissed about the fact that she'd known he'd eventually get himself tangled up all on his own … or he could just accept that she'd done it because she cared enough about him to do _something_ , for fuck's sake.

Jay sighed. Babs had always cared. He'd only worked with her a couple times, Robin to her Batgirl, but she'd always seemed to see _him_. Not Dick 2.0, not a soldier, not a failure. She saw _Jay_ , and liked him well enough to tease him a little bit, about his smoking and other safe bullshit. The only other person in his life who'd seen him so clearly had been Alfred.

And now, maybe, Kala. Which Babs had given him a big damn window into who Kala was, with this profile. It was enough to put the hair up on the back of his neck, but also make him clench his fists with wanting to hang on to her. Kala was _good_ , dammit, even with something like this in the back of her mind, she was … something a little too good to be true. Not afraid to get down and fight in the dirtiest of Gotham's gutters, but somehow she always washed off clean again. Some part of her was beyond being touched by the filth in this city.

He'd thought she was too clean, too innocent, to cope. And he'd been wrong. She was made of sunlight, and you could hide light or fracture it, but you couldn't _darken_ it. By definition, light was light, immutable, untarnished. He and Gotham badly needed a little light now and then.

All of that, and she'd trusted him too, fallen asleep on his shoulder in the library. Even after his dear brothers had tried to warn her about getting too close to him, even after he'd beaten the crap out of her in training. Kala trusted him, she _liked_ him, and he could've sworn there was a lot more than friendship in that.

But then, she hadn't called him back. And he hadn't even seen her for the debrief after this with Joker. He couldn't let that go … but he couldn't forget the way she'd stood up for him, either. Despite kryptonite and injury, her reaction to Joker's taunts had been to get between them and _demand_ silence. Willing to back it up with murder.

"I can hear the gears grinding in your head," Babs said softly.

"Is she okay?" Jay asked. "K rode off with your crew, and I haven't heard from her. Well, last night she asked me if I was okay. By text."

"Probably because she got word that her band was coming back early while she was in the middle of talking to me and B," Babs said. "I doubt she had more than a few seconds to text you, even with her speed. As for okay … she was worried that B or I would be mad at her. I'm not; I knew what she was before she came here. And I saw the Empress, at least a flash of her, before you ever started training her."

"If B tried reading her the riot act, I'll kick his teeth in," Jay growled. "Someone _needs_ to tell his high-and-mighty Bat-ass off once in a while."

"Very much agreed," Babs said with a chuckle. "K's benched for now, given the kryptonite exposure. We'll recheck with her when she gets a chance."

Jay sighed noisily. "Fine. I guess I'm benched for a couple days too. This cut isn't as bad as I thought, but the venom still sucks."

"If you have the patience, you could swing by the Tower and see me," Babs said. "I've always wanted to know just how much hacking you learned while you were out there traveling the world."

That got a laugh from him. "Betcha fifty bucks I can get into Daddy Bats' bank account."

Babs chuckled back. "I won't take that. But I've got something better: the servers at Guyot-Perrin. Wayne Enterprises' representative could use the competitive edge."

"Industrial espionage? Thought that was beneath you," Jay shot back. "D'ya really think we should fuck around with something the Demon wants bad enough for Talia to fly to Gotham just to warn Bruce off?"

"I think the fact that they want it so much is an excellent reason to keep them from getting it," Babs replied. "Besides, Guyot-Perrin is adapting Kryptonian solar tech, and that interests me for its own sake. Who knows, it could be fun."

"For being so goddamn serious all the time, you always were," Jay joked back, and was surprised to realize it was true.

"I'll make sure to be as much of a boring librarian as I can be, then, just to annoy you," she replied. "Besides, I need to pick your brain a little for something that's coming up in a few days."

At first he didn't understand. And when he did, Jay groaned. "Oh _come on_ , let's not be like … like lame-ass _coworkers_ about it."

"How about being like family about it?" she asked, and he hung up on her.


	44. Can I Forget the Date

**Authors' Note:** The first scene here is Jay's nightmare of what Joker did to him, and it contains extremely graphic violence, most of which is directly canon. We just made sure to follow all the implications of "beaten to death with a crowbar" to their logical end - and set up a few plot-critical elements. If you didn't know why Jay is so angry, or so triggered by Joker's continued existence, now you will.

That said, if you want to know who Jay really is, what he does in the face of his own death is a pretty good indication.

If you don't want to read the violence, skip to the first scene break. The handful of paragraphs above it are safe, too, once he wakes up.

* * *

The nightmare was late this time – Jay had expected it the night after he confronted Joker – but it came eventually. It always did. Not so much a nightmare as a memory, a horror he'd relived too damn many times.

The pain wasn't the worst part … but the pain was pretty goddamn bad, anyway. So many things broken he'd lost track of each separate ache, his whole body just screaming at him. Ribs, arm, legs, shoulder, hand, and his _face_ , Jesus fuck his whole fucking _head_ , everything felt just … smashed. Like his skin was a bag full of broken bloody glass, all the bones grinding against each other every time he moved.

He couldn't help moving. With each blow, his poor beaten body twitched, reflexively trying to evade. It was long past a conscious process; Jay didn't have a lot of consciousness left, and what he did have was entirely absorbed by the pain.

And the one thing worse than the pain, the utter _helplessness_. No one was coming. Maybe Batman, but he was too far away, Jay had made sure to muddy his trail so the big bad Bat couldn't stop him, and it was already too late. He'd already realized that no matter what happened, nothing could stop what was coming next – the next swing of the crowbar, the next kick, the next whatever else Joker decided to do. Jay had been overwhelmed and knocked out by gas the moment he got here, waking up with his hands and feet bound. Even if he were free now, it wouldn't do any good. The bastard had started with his legs, he couldn't walk, probably couldn't even crawl.

All he could do was … lie here, and take it. He couldn't even make snarky quips anymore, with his jaw broken and teeth missing, his mouth full of his own blood. Fuck, he'd even bitten his own tongue, but he couldn't feel that anymore. The shattered cheekbone took precedence.

The beating stopped, for a moment, and Jay was left just trying to breathe. Inhaling hurt, with broken ribs and a new star of pain in the center of his chest. And still the helplessness beat at him, the wild urge to run away, to do _something_ that would stop this.

There was nothing he could do. _Nothing_. He was … fuck, he was just Joker's toy, to be mauled until the Clown lost interest. Knowing he was powerless – and knowing _who_ held all the power here – made terror overtake pain, for the moment. He might've pissed himself; he couldn't tell, his belly a mass of pain.

Just when he started to think Joker might be done, he felt the Clown grab the front of his uniform. "Some Robin you are," Joker said, in that grating and horribly jovial voice. "Walked right into a trap, looking for your _mommy_. Pathetic."

Jay wheezed, and found he had _some_ control of his voice. He was going to die here tonight, he knew it – but maybe he could fight back in some small way. He managed to mumble, half-coherent words.

"Sorry, kiddo, can't hear you," Joker said cheerily. "Must be that crushed larynx. Speak up a little?"

And then, as Jay hoped, the miserable bastard leaned in. Probably hoping to hear Jay beg for mercy, plead for his life.

Well, fuck that. Jay had never begged for anything. Shit, he'd stolen half of what he had, but he wasn't a beggar. And he wasn't as pathetic as Joker tried to make him believe he was. So as soon as the Clown was close enough, Jay spat a wad of blood and saliva right into his face.

Seeing his blood streaking that dead pale skin through the eye he could still open, Jay grinned fiercely. _Fuck you, I'll die smiling, you sick twisted fuck._

Joker wiped the spit off, and for once, he'd lost his trademark smile. That was good enough for Jay to go out on, he figured he'd be bleeding out shortly, and he only wished he could tell Batman he'd wiped the grin off the fucker's face before he died.

But then Joker said, "That was _rude_. The first Boy Blunder had some manners. Guess I'll have to teach you some."

The next hit took out his kneecap, and it turned out he _could_ feel some of those broken bones separately. The one after that was his face, his _eye_ , Jesus fuck his eye was loose in a shattered cradle of bone, and please God let it end, just let it _end_.

No God. Just Joker's voice, disappointed. "'Fraid you just don't measure up. You're not even worthy of the ol' green and red and yellow, kiddo."

The warehouse was cold, and the frigid air seized Jay's skin as Joker sliced the uniform. He tried to struggle, to squirm away, but he was about as effective as a stepped-on worm, half-crushed and writhing on the pavement. It turned out there was something else worse than pain, right up there with helplessness and making _that_ worse: humiliation. He couldn't stop even this, now pitifully naked under harsh fluorescent lights.

"No fashion sense at _all_ ," Joker sneered, flinging the uniform aside. "I need a better trophy than that, birdie. Let's see…"

New pain, huge, exploding through his wounded head, his ear on fire. No, _not_ his ear, because from what little he could still see, Joker had that. _The sick fuck cut off his ear._ It was enough to distract him from the fact that Joker had cut his uniform off.

"Wonder what Batsy will think, when he finds you," Joker mused. "I mean, will he know it was me? You pissed off a lotta guys, after all. I know – I'll make sure he knows _I_ was the one." And he grabbed Jay's face, just that movement set off every broken bone from the neck up, and there were too damn many of those.

Jay tasted metal for a second, then a new gush of blood, then … air? Oh God, _no_ , a line of fire from the corner of his mouth racing up his cheek, and before he could scream the knife was back in his mouth again, cutting the other side. Jay tried to howl, but he couldn't get breath for it, and now he couldn't move his lips into the right shape either. What came out was a toneless gurgle, a noise more like a clogged garbage disposal than a fifteen-year-old superhero-in-training.

The final insult, now he wore the same scars as the Clown, and Joker stood up with a regretful sigh. Jay honestly didn't hear his parting words, but he caught the mocking tone. This was the part where, in reality, he'd passed out, and only woken up a year later in Quaker Medical Center.

In the nightmare, he didn't black out. He just stayed there, in pain and degradation and horror, knowing he was worthless, knowing he'd failed, knowing that Batman was going to find his naked, broken, maimed body. And as badly as he wanted Batman right then, wanted the pillar of strength that Bruce was, even more he wanted to disappear, wanted no one to ever see him like this. As if death wasn't bad enough, as if it hurting every long moment of his dying wasn't bad enough, Bruce was going to see him and know just how badly he'd fucked up, how badly Joker had hurt him.

 _Naked. Broken. Maimed._ And still, not dead, still horribly aware that this moment was all he was and all he ever would be.

At some point, the horror swelled to a point where he broke through into awareness, scrambling up out of bed, grabbing for his gun and his knife. There was light enough coming through the windows for Jay to see instantly that he was alone, but even so, it took ten minutes for him to be able to put the weapons down.

Eventually he realized he was in the Manor, in his old room, and fuck, wasn't that a head trip? The room was still exactly as he'd left it, the walls and bookshelves a testament to his fifteen-year-old interests. Part of Jay wanted to reach back in time and tell that angry, rebellious kid to give up on the search for his birth mother. He'd had a good mom, that was more than most people got, loneliness and inadequacy issues shouldn't have sent him searching for more. That quest had gotten him almost-killed.

Hell, why weasel around it? The kid Jay was _had_ been killed, had died there. What lived … he had only the murkiest memories of the year he'd spent with the al Ghuls, but that hadn't quite been him. Too many parts of his mind were missing. The Pit brought him all the way back, brought _something_ back anyway, gave him the height and strength he would've never gotten thanks to half-starving on the streets when normal kids were hitting growth spurts. Too bad it couldn't give him back his mind in one piece, all those broken and missing parts filled in with balefire green.

Another part of him wanted to reach back into that nightmare, and shoot his younger self in the head. Preferably before Joker really got into the swing of things with the damn crowbar, but any time before cutting off his uniform would've been good. People said you couldn't really remember pain, and maybe that was true, but Jay could remember his fear and the taste of sharp steel.

The worst part was, there was no comfort to be found. Yeah, sure, the whole Bat 'family' would mourn him and miss him, but they wouldn't do a fucking thing about it. Maybe Babs, if she got the chance, would put a bullet in Joker. Wasn't like she could hunt him down, though. Bruce wouldn't do it, neither would Dick or Tim.

A new thought cut across his mind. _Kala would do it. If Bruce hadn't stopped her, Kala might've killed the Clown a few days ago, for_ _ **talking**_ _about having hurt him._ Kala was a killer already, he didn't have to feel guilty for that, and Joker wouldn't expect laser-eyes straight to the brain-pan. And _that_ thought, dark as it was, gave Jay a shiver of … relief, maybe? Nothing he could put a name to.

It was too early to be up, but no way was he going back to sleep. Jay scrubbed his hands over his face – he probably should've shaved, but he'd gotten used to the scruffy look while being Big Tommy. Fuck it, he'd grow it out, this was no kind of morning to have a razor near his throat.

In his apartment, he left the TV on for background noise, and now it was too quiet. Jay reached for his phone and checked the news feeds. The usual assortment of crimes, Gotham events, cape sightings … and KLK's show last night in Boston. His research into Kala's day job had put her shows onto his news feed algorithm, and Jay had never gone in to mess with the settings and keep them off. Partly because he did click on the articles, sometimes. She'd pulled a fifteen-year-old girl up on stage in their first show of the tour and sung the refrain to one of their songs with her. Jay thought that was almost _too_ wholesome.

He decided to click on this one, and found a link to a video of most of the performance. Jay shrugged, and clicked on it. Her music wasn't his style, but seeing her onstage – and in a corset, why was he _not_ surprised? – was a damn good distraction from his nightmares.

It was also kind of mind-warping, watching that black-clad made-up singer hitting every note, and knowing she was the same girl who'd damn near gone after _Batman_ a couple nights ago.

Watching her strut around with the microphone, all that confidence, a wave of yearning washed over him. He missed her, he _wanted_ her … and he was _totally_ turning into a puddle of mush. "Snap out of it," he growled at himself, and closed the video.

Kala might've almost killed Joker, but she _still_ hadn't called him back. Evidently the way she returned that kiss at the airport didn't mean what Jay had thought it meant – or she'd just come to her senses the minute she landed in Metropolis. "Let's face it, I'm a classic fuck-up," he muttered. "K dodged a bullet getting out when she did."

But he was not, absolutely fucking _not_ , gonna sit around and mope about it. Jay was done being the family entertainment. Big bad Red Hood and his cute little puppy-dog crush on the Super – ha ha, how about _no_. He'd been led around like a dog before, and wasn't gonna do it again, no matter how much parts south might be on board with the idea.

He could still work with Kala if she made her way back to Gotham. She was still the best damn partner he'd ever fought beside. If she wasn't gonna say anything, then he wouldn't either. No sense chasing the unattainable.

She was too damn good for him, anyway. And how twisted was it that he could think _that_ , and it finally enabled him to fall back asleep.

…

Kala woke with the sun, disoriented. She started to sit up, and bonked her head on the ceiling, which at least reminded her where she was. On the tour bus, in the little loft section just above the driver – the space she and Sebast always called dibs on. They were in motion, the whole bus subtly rocking as it ate up the miles between last night's show and their next destination.

A sleep-heavy male arm was flung across her hip, and Kala _knew_ it was Sebast – but for some sick reason her mind murmured _Jay_ and sent a shiver down her spine. _No, not Jay,_ she told herself firmly, flipping her pillow over as Sebast snored on. _Not Jay, and not gonna_ _ **be**_ _Jay. Not now that he's seen my psycho side. Get over yourself._

She squirmed to get comfortable again, and Sebast rolled toward her, tugging her body close against his. They'd always fit so well together, going back to the days when they shared a room and a bed on the road to save money. Now they could afford all the rooms they wanted, but she was so used to the sound of his heartbeat and the warmth of his arms that she rarely slept well without him. The only reason she'd gotten through the summer without becoming an insomniac was total training-induced exhaustion.

Kala lay awake, letting the sun peeking through the darkened windows percolate through her. They wouldn't stop until lunch time, the rest of the band still deeply asleep. She might as well doze off again…

Sebast yawned, snuggled her closer, and murmured, "So what happened in Gotham, _mi amor_?"

Damn him for the way her heart skipped at that. He didn't mean it _that_ way – they did love each other, but her life was _not_ one of his mother's freaking telenovelas. "I told you already," Kala mumbled, sounding sleepier than she was. "Charity. Waynes. Lotsa really good food. The Waynes' butler is a god-tier chef."

He couldn't sit up in the low space, but he propped himself on one elbow. "There's something more. You've been on edge since you got back; your nightmares got kicked up again something fierce. Shit, you almost laid Derek out the other day."

"Little prick deserved it," she grumbled, squinching her eyes closed in hopes he'd get the point.

"And that's another thing. You've never been like your stepmom, but _damn_ you swear a lot more since you've been back. You said 'Jesus fuck' the other day and I thought Derek was gonna have a fuckin' stroke."

"You're one to talk," Kala replied, mentally kicking herself. That was all Jay's fault, and his level of cursing was nothing she could attribute to the well-bred Waynes.

"Yeah, well, I've always been profane," Sebast said with a shrug. "Who'd you hang out with that put 'Jesus fuck' in your vocabulary? _Mi madre_ will wash your mouth out with soap if she ever hears that, by the way. She just complains when I say 'motherfucker' but you don't diss Jesus in her house. Not unless you want a _chancla_ upside your head."

"I'll have time to clean up my act before we get home again," Kala assured him.

He wasn't going to be distracted, unfortunately. "Still. Who talks like that in the Wayne house? The little brother? He looks like the quiet but dangerous type."

Kala couldn't help snorting in disbelief. "Tim? God, no. He never swears. No, I … I hung around with some friends of the family, too. The Waynes have more connections than you think." Her mind raced, trying to make this plausible, looking over her shoulder at Sebast's perplexed and doubtful expression.

"What kind of connections?" Sebast asked thoughtfully.

"Well … there are outreach programs on the bad side of town. I got to meet some folks who work down in the Bowery. It's a rough neighborhood, and the language is rough too." It sounded weak even as she said it, but it had the advantage of being true … for a certain value of truthfulness. She added, "One of the Bowery guys teaches self-defense, so I re-upped my blue belt while I was there."

Sebast sighed, and snuggled down behind her. "I guess hanging out on the bad side of town would make anyone jumpy. Can't believe they stuck you down there, _blanquita_."

She elbowed him. "It wasn't a hardship. And don't call me _blanquita_ , I have _some_ street cred." More than he could imagine, but he didn't have to know that.

"Still pasty as hell," he teased. "You should get out in the sun more."

"You know I don't tan," she replied, resisting the need to wince. He couldn't know that she didn't tan because her body stored sunlight to fuel her _superpowers_. It was safer for Sebast _not_ to know everything about her, but she hated keeping something so important a secret. He was her best friend, they worked and lived together, and he had no idea _what_ she was. He was one of the very few who knew about her nightmares and what had caused them – because he'd been there when she ran away and when she was rescued – but he didn't know the whole truth about _that_ , either. All he knew was that Luthor hated her mother because of Superman; he had no clue what Luthor had wanted from _her._

She couldn't even tell him about Jay, when she'd _always_ talked to him about guys. His insight was obvious, of course, and he had her best interests at heart. Kala needed that sounding board, but coming up with another explanation for who Jay was and why she trusted him was just too implausible. Leave out the whole part about both of them being vigilantes – about Kala herself being a superhero and half-alien – and the whole thing made no sense. She didn't even want to start talking about the mystery middle Wayne brother. That just made it sound like a classic bad boy crush, and Kala hated to be that much of a stereotype. He wouldn't believe it, anyway.

Sebast cuddled close, wrapping his arm around her waist, and Kala laced her fingers through his. Just as she thought she'd dodged a bullet, he murmured, "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

 _Except that I'm half alien. And I put on a mask and a suit and beat up bad guys. And I'm in the middle of some kind of complication with Red Hood._

Oh yeah, she could tell him anything, all right. Kala pretended to be asleep already, and hated herself a little for the evasion.

She'd almost managed to get to sleep for real when her phone buzzed. Kala answered it quickly so it wouldn't rouse Sebast. It was a text message from Dick: _Congrats! Ur gonna be the best aunt._

That, at least, gave her a little laugh. So Jase had spilled the beans to the boys – she figured Tim must've known almost as long as she had – and Dick was, as ever, delighted by the good news.

By now, Kala herself had completely gotten over the momentary flicker of jealousy. Jason was the one in position to have kids now. He and Elise were working on their degrees, but they had a stable home and stable jobs. They could absorb the stress. Kala herself would be more than happy to love and spoil the twins when they made their appearance, much the same way she'd loved Kristin. She chuckled softly, remembering Daddy Richard faux-complaining that the little redhead would never learn to walk if no one ever put her _down_.

Memories lulled her for a while. Kala privately thought that she'd make a decent mother, when the time came. Maybe someday in the future, _way_ in the future, she'd adopt. She certainly had the money, and if relationships didn't pan out – which, let's face it, they weren't so far – she had a supportive family and a band that was _like_ family.

That hazy future dream almost sent her back to sleep, but she remembered she needed to reply to Dick. So she typed in, _Thanks, you can be an awesome uncle too ,since Tim is._

She'd fallen asleep by the time he responded with a smiley face and a heart.

…

The nightmare had wrecked Jay's sleep schedule, and he dragged his ass downstairs way late – so much so that not even Alfred had saved him breakfast. That was fine, the rest of his dreams had been the usual nonsensical garbage, nothing to scar his already fucked-up mind, and he headed into the kitchen looking for sandwich fixings. By this time of day, Alfred was usually doing some of the thousand routine maintenance tasks on a house this size; they had a cleaning service come in twice weekly to dust, sweep, and mop, but Alfred trusted no one else to polish the silver or clean the glassware.

As he put together a leftovers sandwich with some ham, some roast beef, some turkey, some bacon, and just enough lettuce and tomatoes to balance it out, Jay reflected on the benefits of living in Wayne Manor. The food was beyond compare, and there was always plenty of it – something he didn't have at his bunker. Jay didn't cook much, he owned a microwave, but most of his meals came from takeout. Rich food made him uneasy; no escargot or vichyssoise for Jason Todd. If he couldn't spell it, or tell what it was at a glance, he wasn't down. He had eaten plenty of fancy of meals in his time, both here and while running with Talia, who gave the impression of never having set foot in a restaurant with less than three Michelin stars. But Alfred knew him well enough to make stuff Jay _liked_ – roasts, casseroles, lasagna, mac and cheese, mashed potatoes, even meatloaf. Comfort food, sure, but Alfred did it a lot better than anyone else Jay had ever known.

There was also the way his room got cleaned and his bed got made without him having to do it. Which, ironically, meant he tried to do it before Alfred got to it, because that man was seriously overworked, but his apartment was a fucking _wreck_. It didn't bother Jay, because he was the one who'd made the mess and at least he had clean sheets on the bed. He'd lived in worse places. His apartment in Serbia had been above an all-night club, and the bass rattled his walls three floors up. Hell, right here in Gotham he'd lived in condemned buildings with peeling plaster and spiders as big as his hand running around the ceilings – spiders that got that big eating legions of roaches. By comparison, even if the Manor's luxury made him uncomfortable, it was still better than _that_.

Sure, there were downsides. Bruce would give him the judgy eyes if he hit up the liquor cabinet, but he could buy his own and only have to deal with Alfred's disappointed look when he woke up hungover. On the whole, he'd rather handle Bruce's disdain than Alfred's. As if Bruce wasn't self-medicating, too.

And of course, being at the Manor opened him up to extra commentary from Timmy, who lived there, and Dick, who had officially gone back home but still kept turning up. Jay really didn't need the look Tim gave him when he came into the kitchen and saw Jay's giant sandwich. "Are you even gonna have room for dinner?" he asked skeptically.

Jay scowled. "One, you're not my mom – she's dead, dude, I can eat what I want," he shot back, and saw Tim flinch. Shit, that was right, the kid's parents were dead too; and they'd taken their big bite of the ol' dirt sandwich _after_ Timmy became Robin. This really was the most fucked-up orphanage in the country. So Jay continued in a much more jovial tone, "Two, I'm like a freakin' wolf, I can eat half my weight in meat at a sitting 'cause you never know when you'll make another kill."

"You didn't kill that sandwich by any stretch of the imagination," Tim remarked. "Alfred made everything in it – wait, _how_ many meats are on there?"

"All of 'em," Jay said proudly, and took a large bite.

"You won't lose your man card if you eat a vegetable once in a while, you know," Tim said disgustedly.

"How would you know?" Jay laughed.

"He's dating Wonder Girl, he's out-manned all of us," Dick said, breezing into the room. "I'd say 'good morning' but it's three in the afternoon, Jay. I was afraid you were gonna miss dinner."

"What the hell is up with everyone worrying about what I eat and _when_ I eat?" Jay asked, rolling his eyes.

Dick clapped his shoulder. "Did you forget what today is? I had to order _two_ cakes today."

Jay realized with horror that, despite his best hopes, they hadn't forgotten his birthday in the few days since he'd spoken to Babs. "Aw, shit," he groaned. "Wait … _two_ cakes? What the hell?"

"Yeah, the other one's going to Jason Kent," Dick said, rummaging in the fridge for his own lunch, or snack, or whatever this was. "You didn't hear? His wife's pregnant. With twins. I texted K earlier and said congrats on becoming an aunt."

"And you sent Jason a cake that says 'Congratulations on becoming a dad'?" Tim asked skeptically.

Dick grinned at them both. "No, I sent him a cake that says 'Congratulations on the sex'. I had to call three different bakers to get one who'd believe me and actually write it."

Tim rolled his eyes, and Jay groaned. "You're twisted, man. Why text his sister? K didn't have anything to do with it. I hope."

"No, it's _so_ not like that," Dick scoffed. "She knew before we did and kept mum, so I had to tweak her nose about it. Of course, she texted me back and named us all honorary uncles through Tim."

Jay couldn't help pulling a sour face, his sandwich suddenly tasteless. "Oh joy," he muttered.

Dick was, as usual, entirely too perceptive. "She still hasn't called you back, huh? Look, try texting her. That's probably the only reason I got a reply – and it took twenty minutes for that. You _know_ she's sucked up into this tour."

"She already texted me," Jay said, grumpy at discussing this in front of Tim. "Whatever, she's a freakin' rock star, K'll get around to talking when she can. What's grossing me out is this 'honorary uncles' shit. I am _not_ set up to be anybody's role model, Dickie-Bird."

"But you were," Tim said quietly, which made Jay cut him an extremely skeptical look. "Yes, I knew Dick was Robin first. But _you_ were the Robin I followed the most. You were the one I wanted to be like."

"No wonder you're screwed up, Timbo," Jay replied, at a loss for anything but vague deflection. "Everyone knows I was the fuck-up Robin."

To his absolute and everlasting shock, Dick reached across the table and swatted him none-too-gently upside the head. "Quit it," Big Brother scolded. "You were a good Robin. You had – and have – issues, but so do all of us. I'm the original Robin, so I'm the only one who gets to pass judgment on who was a good Robin, and all of us were. So knock it off."

"Dude. Don't hit a guy on his birthday," was all Jay could come up with. It just felt so _off_ , to be getting … approval, or praise, or whatever the fuck this was, from these two. Maybe it was because it was his birthday? Or some kind of twisted pity from Dickie-Bird for K making herself scarce? Who knew. Today was gonna be _all_ kinds of fucked up, he wasn't prepared for this happy-family shit, he'd been trying to forget what day it was and forget Babs' hints about the planned _celebration_ , too.

Luckily Alfred arrived in the kitchen before the two of them could start trying to convince Jay in all earnestness that he was a good guy, and he decided they were both Stepford robots and ran screaming into the … well, not the night, the midafternoon. Alfred, of course, settled him right down with, "Good afternoon, Master Jason, and I hope I find you well on this birthday."

"Thanks," he said, finding affection easier to take from Alfred. "Did you know Dickie-Bird bought me a cake? I bet it says something horrible."

"Oh, of course, Master Richard ordered a cake for the occasion," Alfred said smoothly. "I'm afraid instructions for the inscription may have been a bit garbled. I believe the cake is on its way, and bears only _appropriate_ felicitations."

Dick actually pouted. "Oh come on. 'Happy B-Day Little Bro' wasn't _that_ bad."

"Master Jason is only the younger brother to one member of this family, and we all wished to convey our appreciation," Alfred reminded him. "Also, alas, it appears the bakery was all out of miniature cars with which to decorate the cake. You shall have to settle for frosting."

Jay laughed at the disappointed look on Dick's face. "Aww, you were gonna get me a cake with cars on it. Real cute. You're such a dork, D."

"Frosting works," Tim remarked. "We all like frosting."

"And we can still find some other way to troll you," Dick said with a great big aren't-we-all-having-so-much-fun grin.

Jay pointed at him with his sandwich and warned, "If you nutjobs try to sing 'Happy Birthday' to me, I'll shoot somebody. With a tranq, because I don't totally hate all of you, but I'm just giving fair warning. I _will_ shoot you."

Alfred looked disapproving, Dick frowned thoughtfully, and Tim just shrugged. "Fine. _We_ won't sing to you. But good luck convincing Bruce and Babs that they shouldn't sing just because you're being a weirdo about it. Also good luck shooting at either of them."

Jay sneered at that. "Yeah, Bruce would just dodge, but Babs might shoot back."

Tim scowled, but Dick scoffed. "Babs wouldn't shoot you."

"She _does_ have a gun, y'know," Jay told him. "A perfectly respectable Glock 19."

Dick rolled his eyes. "I know. And she doesn't carry it _here_ , Jay. She wouldn't shoot you, either, even if you did lose your mind completely and start laying down tranq rounds."

"If at all possible, Master Jason, I would ask you to refrain from any sort of shooting indoors," Alfred said gently. "The smell of cordite does linger so. And any missed shots might cause irreparable damage to the furnishings."

"Well, since you ask nicely," Jay muttered, hunkering down.

Fuck. He was gonna have to go through with this bullshit. They all wanted to be a _family_ , and everybody thought they knew best. Like somehow through the healing power of togetherness and cake, they'd fix everything that was broken in him.

Not happening. The kid he used to be was _gone_ , dammit. The man he'd become was not the same, not ever gonna be the same. He could enjoy this, having this place for a part-time home base, and enjoy the company of people he liked and mostly trusted. Not a lot of that in his life before he'd come home; shit, not much at all. He'd trusted Talia, and look how _that_ turned out.

But fucking birthday parties? Seriously? Who did they think he was?

And never mind that some part of him _wanted_ this. He wanted to be part of a normal family, as normal as a bunch of orphans adopted by a rich vigilante could ever be. Jay just didn't _trust_ that, because everything good in his life had always, _always_ blown up in his face.

Fine, he'd take it. For Alfred's sake. But if any of these assholes tried to bring out a fuckin' party hat, Jay was _gone_. Out the door and fuck them all. Red Hood could throttle down for some cake, but he drew the line at party hats and confetti and shit.

…

Halfway around the world, Mercy Graves sat down across from Luthor's desk. "Roman Sionis failed to make bail," she told him. "It seems his accounts were mysteriously frozen just after his arrest."

He scoffed. "Batman has a _very_ good hacker on his team."

"Someone named Oracle, who's also done piecework for the Suicide Squad," Mercy continued. "If only our IT department was as skilled."

That made him scowl. "If we had the AI stored in those crystals fully operational, I suspect we could go a long way towards hacking their systems. The processing power of Kryptonian crystal tech is … unprecedented. And in the right circumstances we could persuade the AI to find any information we needed."

"Patience," Mercy said. "Project Scion is going to get us everything we need. I don't care _how_ good the JLA's pet hacker is, there's nothing he or she can do against something like Scion."

That earned her a smile. "I suppose we should be grateful for the crippled AI. If it _was_ fully functional, it would probably try to convince us all to renounce our criminal ways. The Kryptonian justice system was nauseating."

Mercy nodded, with a slight smile. Lex leaned back in his seat, thinking. "A shame about Sionis. He just doesn't _learn_. What was it this time?"

"Organ harvesting," she replied, and Lex shook his head.

"How dramatic. You know, we could put an end to all that with the cloning technology. Just grow the organs you need, no rejection. But the world at large doesn't deserve access to immortality."

Mercy just smirked. _They_ had several cell lines from different individuals preserved, and the cloning chambers were ready if Lex decided to put them to use. Not yet, however. There were too many other projects on board, such as Uplift. And Project Scion had been helpful in advancing their understanding of the process.

Talking about the situation in Gotham brought another interesting tidbit to mind. "The Blur was in Gotham this summer," she said.

Lex chuckled. "Oh, Kala. Speaking of _dramatic_. I wonder what her father thinks of her fashion sense? She murdered General Zod, but she still dresses like him."

"She was involved in the takedown on Sionis," Mercy pointed out.

"Maybe I should've sold him more kryptonite," Lex mused, then shook his head. "No, not after he lost the last batch to Red Hood. I'll overcharge him when he finally gets out and needs to resupply. Do we even know where that shipment ended up?"

"No, but I suspect Red Hood sent it to the JLA. He's working with them now," Mercy replied, curling her lip in distaste. They had followed that particular saga with interest, but now the Red Hood had settled tamely into being just another hero, which meant any possible future use for him was off the table.

"Pity. He seemed interesting. Certainly had the Bat running in circles," Lex remarked. "I wonder if our dear Kala intends to make a habit of hanging out in Gotham. We ought to see about expanding our market there, if she is. Her brother only visits occasionally, and unpredictably. She could drive the price of kryptonite up, if they knew what she is."

"I can leak that information, if you like," Mercy said.

Lex's keen gaze pinned her. "But you don't want to," he said, reading her more clearly than she particularly liked. "Why not?"

He respected her opinion, but she knew that would only last as long as she was worthy of it. The first foolish or sentimental choice would damn her in his eyes forever. So she took care to phrase her response as more than a hunch. "I dislike giving away information for free on general principles. Cobblepot is trying to be the chief information broker in Gotham, and we might learn a great deal if we traded knowledge with him, but we _already_ know a great deal about a city in which we don't operate. We don't really need anything he can give us."

"I don't deal with psychopaths," Lex replied flatly. "Gotham is Joker's town, and he's completely unreliable _and_ unpredictable. I don't have time for that. Let all the crazed killers collect in Gotham, I'll deal with people who will at least only betray their partners for a _reason_. Joker will backstab anyone, just because he can. You heard what he did when Sionis broke him out of Arkham, a few years ago?"

"You don't have to convince me," Mercy replied. She remembered – word had gone around what passed for the 'villain community'. Black Mask had gotten Joker out and asked for his help killing Red Hood, Joker had coughed and politely asked for a glass of water … then shattered the glass, used it to cut the throat of one of Mask's men, snatched the guy's gun and shot the other four bodyguards _just so Sionis understood who he was dealing with_. He'd done as Sionis asked, too, coming very close to killing the Hood, but he'd used Sionis himself as bait.

Joker didn't play by anyone's rules. Sionis had let that story circulate so everyone would know that … and understand why he was offering a damn big bounty on Hood's head, but not Joker's. No one would _take_ a contract on Joker, not anymore. The man seemed impossible to kill, and he had a bad habit of putting his attackers in the hospital or the morgue. Mercy happened to know that Deadshot had been hired _twice_ – Deadshot, who was some kind of meta himself, the way he never missed – and had _failed_ , an unheard of thing. Both times he'd been picked up by the Suicide Squad before he could complete the mission, and once Joker just completely changed his plans for no apparent reason, as if he'd known somehow that death waited for him. Deadshot had been heard to say that you couldn't plan around pure chaos, and had refused any other contracts on Joker. The rest of the assassins apparently felt the same.

Mercy shook her head slowly. She also happened to know that one of the contractors had been the Demon's Daughter herself, and that Deadshot had returned the fee. The fact that he was still alive after failing someone like the al Ghuls meant _they_ considered Joker unkillable, too. His particular brand of madness came the closest to frightening Mercy, who lived with Lex Luthor, and Lex's last two paramours had either died or lived on the run in terror of him. Lex was dangerous, Lex was deadly, but other than his obsession with Kryptonians, Lex was _sane_.

Joker wasn't even _insane_ as Mercy understood the term. He was way off the charts somewhere, past dysfunction, past any clinical diagnosis. He _was_ madness, incarnate.

Mercy shook that off and turned her attention back to answering Lex. "I completely agree. If we ever find ourselves in a situation where Joker is our only possible ally, I'd sooner scrub the whole project and start over than rely on him for _anything_. It's a wonder no one's killed him yet, as many as he's betrayed – and as many have tried."

"Yes, it is," Luthor murmured thoughtfully, then shook himself. "Can't be easy for little Kala to run around with such a scary clown possibly popping up. She's not the most mentally stable, herself."

That reminded Mercy of a message that had come in a couple days ago. "Speaking of Joker, he's back in Arkham, for the moment. As often as Kala's been in Gotham, I wonder if she was involved. Capespotting had a feature the same night, that most of the individuals we know work in Gotham were out the same night Joker was taken in."

Lex had sneered at that name. "That ridiculous website," he growled. "They'll hero-worship anyone in a costume."

Mercy had already brought up that night's report, and her brows went up. "Looks like Blur and Red Hood were seen working together that night. Interesting."

"Hood's the one Joker keeps claiming he killed," Luthor mused. "Not that I trust the Clown, everything he says is exaggerated if not an outright lie. Still, interesting indeed, if Superman's daughter is working with someone who was racking up an impressive body count, not so long ago."

"We know she's capable of killing," Mercy reminded him. "Something _you_ should remember, when our paths cross hers again."

Lex just smiled indulgently at her. "I don't intend to put myself in her sights again, never fear. That's what Scion's for."

"Speaking of Scion," Mercy said with a wry smile, "reports say he's having trouble sleeping. Perhaps you should go read him a story."

Chuckling at that, Lex asked, "Which is more appropriate, do you think? _On the Origin of Species_ , or _Principia Mathematica_?"

"He's read Darwin already," Mercy told him. "Give him math, or maybe Shakespeare. A little culture won't hurt."

"The point is to insulate him from human culture," Lex reminded her. "Still. He has the AI for Kryptonian language and culture. And he's what, six now? We might as well let him see what kind of a planet he's living on. _King Lear,_ I think, for human frailty."


	45. Sudden and Inevitable

**Authors' Note:** Posting early because we have a day off, and this next run of chapters is a bit too much fun _not_ to post.

* * *

Though Bruce had given Kala a week's window in which to return to Gotham, she didn't much like procrastinating. Also, she _badly_ needed a break from Derek's oh-so-punchable face. So, four days after the last disastrous trip, she headed back, calling ahead on the comm for clearance. Babs' digitized voice answered her, "Affirmative, Blur, you're full clearance. You'll find B in the Cave."

"Thanks, O," Kala replied. She had one quick stop to make – the Gotham Zoo. That was the only facility in town capable of holding and caring for Harley Quinn's hyenas. And as much as Kala didn't especially _like_ hyenas, she doubted anyone else had checked up on them. They were only animals, they hadn't chosen a life of crime, and she had been the one who sedated and restrained them, so she felt responsible.

They weren't on exhibit, of course, but breaking in to a lightly-guarded place like the zoo was easy for someone who could fly, and Kala quickly located the quarantine areas. The two hyenas had a small paddock to run in, but at night, they were locked up in a spacious indoor kennel. Kala picked the lock on the building, listening to them mutter and growl at the sound of her.

She went to the bars fearlessly, kneeling down so the two could examine her. Their black noses worked, and their large eyes stared at her with more curiosity than hostility. "Hey, boys," Kala murmured. "Bud and Lou, right? You're good boys."

One was just a little bigger than the other, and when she said 'good boys' he started wagging his short tail. A few minutes of talking softly to them, and they both shoved their muzzles against the bars, Kala reaching through to pet them. It wasn't like they could hurt her, anyway, and they seemed starved for the affection.

Kala wasn't paying attention to anything else until the lights turned on, and she sprang to her feet, whirling into a defensive stance. The two hyenas spooked, snarling, but it was just a sleep-rumpled young woman in a zoo t-shirt. "Who're you?" she asked, startled.

"The Blur," Kala said, glad she was in uniform. "I helped catch these guys last time, so I came to check on them. I guess you're their keeper?"

"For now," the woman said. "It won't be long until Harley gets out and picks them up. It never is. They get depressed when they're alone, so I sleep on campus while they're here. Poor things. They won't eat unless someone's here."

Bud and Lou had settled down, looking at the keeper, who tossed a couple of biscuits into their pen. They scarfed them up as eagerly as the beagles Kala had grown up around. She continued to Kala, "I wouldn't stick your hands in there, though. They're pretty tame, for hyenas, but those jaws are powerful."

"I'll be fine," Kala reassured her. "I'm glad they're in good hands. But shouldn't you be more careful? What if I was Harley coming to get them, and you confronted her?"

"Harley doesn't bother us unless we try to stop her, and quite frankly, I don't get paid enough to mess with that," the keeper chuckled. "Besides, I heard you talking; her voice is pretty distinctive, so I knew you weren't her. We do get some people breaking in to commune with the animals, Catwoman shows up to pet the tigers once in a while, but compared to most of what's running around this town, they're not dangerous. And it could've been Batman – he always checks up on these guys while they're in."

"I'm glad they're in good hands," Kala said, surprised again by Bruce.

"Yeah, me too," the keeper sighed. "I wish people wouldn't use animals to do their dirty work. But at least these two are always pretty well cared for." The smaller hyena leaned against the bars, and she scratched the top of its head, careful not to get her fingers in biting range.

Satisfied that they were going to be all right, Kala thanked the keeper and left, not wanting to be too late. She headed up to Bristol, sweeping low and darting into the Batcave. Her entrance stirred up a wave of annoyed chittering from the original residents, some of whom left their perches and swooped around her in flight.

She couldn't help stopping in midair, letting one particularly annoyed little bat circle her head, scolding her. Kala held out her hand, pursing her lips and squeaking back. This time the bat didn't deign to land on her, and she flew on with an amused pout, touching down beside the Batmobile, where Bruce had the hood up and was tinkering with something in the engine. "Can't exactly take it to the dealer, can you?" she said, and when he looked up she added, "Um, hi. Two-day break in Toronto, so I figured I'd head here. You wanted to see me, remember."

His voice was level and even, almost as if she'd never threatened him. "I did. You passed your physical with Babs. Any other problems?"

"No, not really. With all the crazy of the tour, I would've noticed. Maybe a little lingering tiredness, but consider what I'm doing right now," she replied with a shrug.

"So no continuing physical symptoms. What about psychological? Any nightmares?"

Kala hesitated, not wanting to discuss it and feeling a tad defensive for having to divulge the contents of her subconscious, but there was no point in hiding from the world's greatest detective. "Yeah, I had nightmares, but I've been getting those for years. That's nothing new. And I was a little jumpy for a day or two, remembering things. I'm fine now. Like I said, that's not that unusual for me, Uncle Bruce."

"What kind of nightmares?" Bruce pressed.

She narrowed her eyes slightly, her brow furrowing. "The kind I expected. Me, Joker, kryptonite, and a locked room. Hearing him laugh while I'm fighting for air. Plus all the old nightmares made a return appearance, too. Luthor and the ocean, Zod coming back from the dead. It was a regular horror film fest for a while, but it's tapering off. They always do. What you can't deal with when you're awake and all that."

He wasn't even looking at her, focusing on the engine, and that inattention did not prepare her for his next question. "What about nightmares where you kill a teammate? Any of those?"

"Excuse me?" she started, on instant defensive mode at the question, but then she winced a little. Why was he so damn good at getting under her skin with things like this? She started to tell him _no_ , and how dare he ask her that, but she had to stop herself, biting her lip. There was no point. He'd probably just read it in her face, finally looking up from the belt he was replacing. And her immediate response, coupled with the way her arms had crossed over her chest without her realizing it. "Just the one," she finally admitted.

"Tell me." His tone brooked no opposition.

Kala sighed. "All right, fine. I had this dream … I was way out on the fringe, like I was that night, and I was going after some crook. I don't even know who it was, all I knew was it was some scumbag who deserved to die, and I was gonna be his executioner. And … and Jay tried to stop me." She stopped there with her stomach roiling, but Bruce kept on looking at her patiently, so she finished in a small voice. "I threw him through a concrete wall to get him out of my way." That one had been horrible, enough so that she'd woken herself up sobbing, and scared Sebast half to death. Bless him, he was so used to it after so many years that she hadn't even had to explain, thank God.

Bruce nodded. "That's not unexpected in your position. It's normal to lash out at your trainers and teammates at some point; the expectations are high and the pressure is intense. Frankly, Kala, I was a little worried that I hadn't seen much rebellion from you during your training."

That drew her eyebrows up. For a moment she simply stared at Bruce in disbelief. After all of her sometimes-desperate attempts to toe the line, all the times she had bitten her tongue even when she'd utterly disagreed with him… His obsession with always being one step ahead—or at least making everyone _think_ he was—was starting to get annoying. "You _expected_ it? That's not how this is supposed to work. I wasn't taught to lash out at my own team."

"I know your mother. And I've seen your father's temper on the rare occasion he lets it slip, and your brother's, too. I never expected you to meekly take everything we threw at you. Although honestly I thought it would be Jay that you turned on. Since he volunteered to train you, though, I assumed he had plans to deal with rebellion. I only approved that because I knew you'd be low enough on powers to be on a level with him, and both of you would survive it."

 _Unbelievable. He's always assumed that I'd lose my shit eventually. No wonder the Princess of Darkness didn't freak him out; he's been expecting it from Day One. Guess I know now what he really thinks of me and my family._ Disillusioned, unable to comprehend the mindset that expected an attack from within, Kala could only shake her head, her mouth slightly agape. She was sure he could see the hurt in her face. "Well then, thanks for the vote of confidence. Fine. Point taken. Am I cleared for duty when available?"

"Because you were honest about the nightmares, yes, you are. If you'd lied to me I'd bench you for another few weeks." Bruce gave her a thin smile at that, and Kala smirked back, absolutely taken aback at how much of an enormous control freak he was. It wasn't even his place to bench her at this point, not really; that should've been Dinah's call, as League Chairwoman.

But Gotham belonged to the Bat, as always.

"Wonderful," she sighed, then decided there was no point in holding a grudge. It wouldn't do any of them any good for there to be tension between the Supers and the Bats. "Am I dismissed, then, or do you want me to look at the carburetor while I'm here?" That got a chuckle, which she returned, and then he let her go.

Free from the Bruce's scrutiny then, Kala rose up out of the Batcave and into the August night. But she didn't head back to the hotel as planned, feeling restless and miffed and just needing a little break from everything. It had to be ten degrees warmer here than in Canada, a slight breeze blowing through the concrete canyons, and that was enough to get Kala to happily turn her face into the flow of air. They'd been days on the bus between stops, and this was probably the first real rush of fresh air she'd been able to enjoy in at least a week.

It was nice to be out from under Derek's thumb for a while, too. KLK was several shows in now, and she loved it, despite the idiot manager, all of the flash and dazzle and applause and adulation. It was everything she'd always wanted, despite being some serious damn work. But there were so many adjustments to get used to, closer quarters than the five of them had had in years, and the weirdness that came along with that. Something had seemingly happened over the summer to mess with the balance in the band a little, though at least they were working it out.

She could just use some time away from it, was all. Some time away from prying eyes, so many expectations, to just be herself without any consequences for regaining her deeper sense of self. And Gotham was just the place to do it. Especially if the side-trip had the added bonus of helping her get to the bottom of her current thoughts of a certain helmeted man.

Since she'd made a few hours' worth of excuses to the boys, and they'd be expecting her back much later than this, there was no harm in checking in on Red. If she were lucky, Jay wouldn't be difficult to pinpoint and she could get some answers out of him. Really, it was most of a week later and she hadn't heard anything further from him. She'd nearly tried again days ago, waking from a pre-show nap and the dream she'd told her uncle about. The image of Jay lying there had woken her with a barely-contained scream, shaking like a leaf, and having heard Jay's history with Joker, she couldn't help wondering if he was dealing with the same thing. Honestly worried and swallowing her pride, she'd picked up the phone and started to actually call him when Sebast had walked in with Morgan. Once he saw the look on her face, her damp cheeks, Sebast had hovered nearby to comfort her. Any chance of checking on Jay had gone out the window.

Assuming he'd've even picked up the call.

That thought made her hesitate then. Kala couldn't shake the feeling that he was angry with her. Not that she could tell for sure from something as emotionless as a text message; a single-word text message at that. There had just been something dismissive and irritated in it, and after what had passed that evening, it just felt … wrong, somehow. ' _Sure'._ She'd been rushed for time, with Sebast the goddamn lemur shaking the door, but she'd had to know how Jay was feeling. She'd hoped to hear something reassuring and snarky, telling her that he was handling things as best as could be expected. But _'_ _sure'_? No, things were not right. And one of those things that suddenly wasn't right was whatever this was between her and Red.

And that didn't sit well with her. She'd felt restless all week and Kala knew it wasn't just the monsters in her dreams. Jay had rarely been off her mind since that night; if he wasn't going to suck it up and check in with her, she was going to have to woman-up and do it. God help her, she couldn't just let it lie. Especially when she'd found herself incapable of getting him out of her head, much to her own embarrassment.

Taking a deep breath, she made her peace with her decision. There was every possibility that he might just drive her off or ignore her utterly. It was just a chance she was going to have to take. She actually cared, more than she wanted to admit.

Rising higher to hover above the city, Kala listened for trouble, not bothering to put in her comm again and add herself to the roster; that would be working at cross-purposes. She was looking for Jay, not trying to patrol. Better that the rest of the family have no idea she was still in the city if this little fact-finding mission went sideways. She only hoped she was wrong about the potential outcome.

Homing in on the sound of gunfire then, she found Jay in an instant in the middle of a gang war, knocking out the leaders of both factions, being fired on from all sides and laughing for sheer joy. _Good guess, Kal. Here's hoping he doesn't decide to aim at the Alien Menace by mistake_ , she thought with a second's disappointment and bitterness. God, she was such an idiot. Shaking her head in disgust at herself, she launched herself into the fray.

And _God_ , even after everything had gone FUBAR last time, it was such a pleasure and relief to fight after the week she'd had. No wonder she'd always been the one to fight Jason's battles growing up. It wasn't just that Dopey was too gentle-hearted to want to hurt someone; it was that Kala was fierce enough to love it. She remembered something she'd overheard after her first trip to Themyscira: _She has the warrior's heart._ Maybe this was what they meant.

The dance, the endless dance of life and death and strength and speed, the dance of fighting for the right and winning against terrible odds. Kala found herself laughing, too, all worries and fears forgotten as she let instinct guide her. Free. Here with Jay, in this moment, despite the distance between them, she felt free. It felt right to be here, with him, doing this. She caught Jay's eye in between flipping one thug through the air and high-kicking the next one's gun out of his hands, and she couldn't resist grinning at Jay with utter glee.

…

A nice, straight-up gang fight was exactly what Jay needed to get back to an even keel. He was still reeling from the family dinner; he hadn't felt like one of them for so long, it was still weird as hell when they acknowledged him, on his birthday, no less. A card, a cake, and actual _presents_ had damn near short-circuited his brain. At least they'd left off singing the damn song after he threatened to shoot someone. So out he'd come, looking for trouble, and of course, he found it.

But in the middle of the fray, guys he hadn't hit started dropping, and he heard a silvery laugh. An all-too-familiar joyful sound.

 _Kala?!_

Since when was she back in Gotham? Last he'd heard, Bruce had benched her on medical pending a re-eval. Glancing around, he saw that familiar sunny smile as she whirled and punched some asshole in the gut, the thug doubling over and crumpling to the ground.

Jay hadn't heard from Kala since she'd slunk out of the school behind Dinah and Helena. Well, besides that flippant text she'd sent. Probably too busy being a goddamn famous rock star, hanging out with all her groupies, to drop _him_ a line. The fuck was _up_ with her? Why was she showing up now, acting like nothing was wrong? Like it was business as usual? Especially when he now knew there was a whole other layer to her that she'd never so much as mentioned to him?

And why the hell was his mouth curving up in a smile when he was _pissed_ at her, dammit?

Going after the next target with extra ferocity, he crunched the man's nose and loosened some teeth. "Still feelin' like a hot-shit gangster, asswipe?" he snarled, hitting him again. The moron dropped his knife—who the fuck brought a knife to a gun fight, anyway; Jay was doing this idiot a favor by putting him down for the count—and Jay turned to the next.

Kala had always been one hell of a partner. She knew his plays backward and forward now, knew how he moved, and she always managed to put herself right where she was most useful. She never crossed his line of fire or tripped him up, either, working with him in perfect sync and anticipating his every move. And when the fight was over, every last guy on the ground and out for the count, she was standing at his back, their flanks almost touching, both of them in matching semi-crouched stances.

It took a moment for the adrenaline to clear, to realize they were done here. Sirens in the distance said Gotham PD was on its way to clean up the mess—shot up bodies included, though Jay couldn't take credit for them, thankfully—so after a quick round of zip-tying and checking for wounded that could be saved, they both headed for the nearest rooftop. With some distance between them and the scene of the fight now, Jay turned to his partner—the one he'd trained practically from the ground up—with disbelief in his eyes. "The hell are you doing here, K? Thought you were benched."

Before she could hide it, he saw the flash of hurt that marred her face, but she quickly tried to recover with a cocky grin. She just wasn't fast enough to make Jay think he hadn't scored a direct hit; he knew her too damn well now, or so he figured. "I kinda thought that would be obvious. B cleared me for duty. But why am I here in the Bowery? You looked like you could use a hand. Hope you didn't mind."

"I had it under control," he shot back, his heart not really in the statement, even if a part of him wanted to lash out at her for staying out of contact for so damn long. Turning away from her, he thought about making himself scarce—no point in having this conversation if Kala was just gonna deflect at him, he'd had enough of the 'will she or won't she' crap already—but then she was in front of him again, those eyes blazing with a perfectly human fire this time.

"J, knock it off. What's gotten into you? I wasn't trying to insult your manhood, you ass. I just felt like looking for some trouble, and I knew I could find some with you. It's been a busy week and I figured it'd kill two birds with one stone."

That just made him bristle more. How dare she act like nothing was wrong, like she hadn't gone off and ignored him, pretending like what happened at the airport just _hadn't_ happened, like that whole mess with Joker hadn't happened either, like … like everything this summer had been one massive fluke and he wasn't worth her fucking precious time, like the only thing he was good for was a fight?

"Oh, sure," he finally said. "Good to know I'm the guy you come to when you want to get your hands dirty. What's the matter, _Princess,"_ he spat, his blood starting to boil, "get bored with your groupies already?"

Kala actually rocked back on her heels at that, as if from a physical blow, but her shocked expression was quickly replaced by anger. It looked to be the hottest he'd ever seen her temper, actually. All her sweet, kittenish behavior had gone out the window, replaced by what sounded like a frustrated snarl. "What is _with_ you tonight? All I did was come check up on you. My _groupies?_ What the fuck are you talking about? Have you lost whatever remains of your sanity since I saw you last?"

"Nope, still crazy as a fucking fox and proud of it," he shot back. " _You_ might be losing it if you forgot about smooching that one chick after the Denver concert. It's all over the newspapers, K, not to mention YouTube, _Access Hollywood, TMZ,_ the whole fuckin' enchilada." And dammit, that was too telling; she wasn't his girl, almost fucking on the mats notwithstanding, his own attraction to her reaching painful levels after that throw down with Joker _also_ notwithstanding. He had no right to be jealous, just because he was turning down Dickie-Bird in a comforting mood and she was practically swimming in adoring fans.

Now it was her turn to stare in disbelief. Obviously she'd been expecting something else from him. "Are you _serious?_ This is what your problem is? Oh, for God's sake, since when are you my _dad?_ Or are we six now and you just can't resist dipping my pigtails in the proverbial inkwell? I'm on a huge tour and there are cameras everywhere, for God's sake. Jay, that 'chick' has been a fangirl for years, she had an original t-shirt from back when I was with Fungiferous Flora, so of _course_ I gave her a quick kiss! She was so excited, she was in tears! What else was I gonna do?" She was completely defensive now, brow furrowed, her color high. The most amazing part was that her confusion actually seemed real. "And _why_ am I bothering to _explain_ this to you? Why are you even _being_ like this? Just tell me what's wrong with you and stop acting like an ass!"

Stepping to the edge of the roof as she ranted at him, he turned back to her with a poisonous glare. "What's wrong with _me_? You show up like nothing's fucking happened in the last two months, like you haven't fucking been ignoring me since you left Gotham, like you didn't just run off back to your little _band_ after throwing down the Kryptonian Queen of the Universe routine, and you wanna know what _my_ problem is? Fuck that. What the hell is wrong with _you,_ K?" But he cut himself off then, catching a long breath and seething that Kala could be so … so fucking _dense._ "Tell you what," he started again as he readied a grapnel to get the fuck off this rooftop and put some space between them, "get back to me when you figure it out, 'cause I don't have time to get jerked around by the little princess who can't admit she has a thing for the bad boy, and thinks slumming it in Gotham is a good way to duck out of reality because the sweet life is just too fucking hard to deal with. Been there, done that."

With that, he shot off the grapple and leaped to make the next roof. Fuck this whole damn thing; he was going dark for the night, and maybe a drink or three would settle his nerves after seeing Kala again. He'd just have to tell O once he got in. And hope he could sleep this shit off.

Again.

…

Kala's jaw dropped. Utterly floored. What the absolute _hell_ had just happened? Okay, so she'd known that there'd been a chance he'd be cold to her, but this was the complete opposite of anything she'd seen coming. She'd been afraid that Jay was pissed off at her for losing control, maybe even a little wary of her after she'd gone all Empress of Earth in front of him. Kiss at the airport that they still hadn't discussed or not, a good reminder that the girl you locked lips with was only half-human was a reasonable deal-breaker. Add to that the fact that said girl was still too mixed-up and scared to admit how tangled up he made her to even say _anything_ to the goddamn voicemail he'd sent her. Damn him, he had a point. He had at least been able to allude to things; she hadn't said a word back until they had almost gotten themselves killed. How was she to blame him, especially after that night? Just because she was all tied up in knots over him, even now, even with the tour, didn't mean anything about how he might still feel. Or might no longer feel. Except that now he was pissed.

This … this was so far out of left field she had no _clue_ what to think.

And groupies? Since when had _that_ ridiculous idea popped into his head? She _never_ slept around with groupies; that was Sebast's contribution to their P.R. She didn't sleep around, period; it had never been her sort of thing. The closest she'd come was Jay himself. A kiss captured on YouTube was a hell of a long way from being freaking Mick Jagger. How could he even think that of her? Offended by the idea and shocked at Jay's out-of-the-blue accusation, it took Kala a moment to get her bearings again.

And then … oh, his parting shot! Jay was acting like she'd been the one jerking _him_ around, and that info-dump was just the icing on top. Much to her shock, he was _jealous_ ; the goddamn Red Hood was acting like a bitchy jealous boyfriend. They'd never talked about that kiss at the airport, or rolling around on the mats, or the electricity that roared between them at every touch. Now he was going to belittle her day job and spit at her about _her_ jerking _him_ around—and then _walk away_ _?_ When _he_ was the one who had acted like he was above everything, Mr. No Feelings Only Violence, keeping it all locked down?

Hell no, she was _not_ about to let that stand. Not at all. Enough of this ridiculous waiting for an answer to what the hell was going on between them until he made what he wanted clear. Even if what he said hurt her, even if she wouldn't be able to face him again for a while, they were going to get some things sorted out before she left, one way or another.

Anger overtook the shock and hurt in her soul, and Kala re-oriented on him, seeing him almost to his apartment. Well, if he thought he was going to walk out on a bullshit line like that, he was about to get a _big_ surprise…

She'd come to him wanting to apologize, to understand what the text was supposed to mean. It was so far beyond that now that she had the feeling that if she followed him, things were going to change, for good or ill.

Knowing that didn't slow her down at all.

…

The lock clicked open, and Jay stepped into his tiny-ass apartment, automatically avoiding the tripwire. He'd pour his first drink, call Babs, then pour as many more as it took to shut up the thirteen-year-old boy in the back of his brain who was currently screaming that he'd screwed everything all to hell. Fuck, it was screwed from the get-go; he was Red Hood and she was fucking _Supergirl_.

But as soon as Jay started to turn to close the door, a rush of air blasted him, the door slamming shut after. "Oh no the fuck you don't," Kala snarled, right in his face, grabbing a handful of his shirt.

Training reacted before he could wrap his brain around the fact that she'd followed him, and Jay shoved her. She shoved him right back, _hard_ , and he bounced off the wall behind him. Another reaction that wasn't normal for Kala, but she was pretty damn furious, from the looks of things. "I have no idea what's going on in that _thick_ head of yours, Jay, but it's _bullshit_. I'm not ducking out of my real life, we both know I don't have the time for it, and I'm not the one jerking _you_ around! Where the hell did you get that? _I_ was the one who came here looking for _you_ , you idiot, to make sure you were all right since you answered my last text with _one goddamn word_ that I know damn well is a lie!"

For a brief second all Jay could do was gape at her, completely fucking stunned. What the ever-loving fuck had just happened? But then he managed to pull himself together, ignoring the sudden ache in the back of his skull where he'd hit the wall, and tried to push past her, dismissive and downright pissed that she'd followed him. And to his goddamn apartment, of all places. For fuck's sake, how was he supposed to drown his emotions with her _here?_

But Kala was too quick to just let him go, and her arm caught him around the chest, flinging him back to the wall again. Fuck, this was _definitely_ not a side to her that he'd ever seen before. This time he felt a warning ache that reminded him she was rocking the super-strength, and could throw him _through_ that wall if she chose.

Too bad he never heeded warnings from good sense.

"What the flying fuck, K!?" he spat at her, hands going to her arms and finding her as immovable as a steel beam set in reinforced concrete.

" _No_ ," she spat back, the word seeming more final than anything Bruce had ever said. "Neither one of us is going anywhere for the moment. Not until you tell me why you're so damned pissed at me. God, all I wanted to do was make sure you were okay. I don't deserve to be treated like this, not after this summer, Jay."

At the realization that there was no fucking way he was getting away from her like this, that all she really wanted was to get him to fucking _talk_ to her, he deflated, despite himself, sagging against the wall.

"Okay," he said after a long moment. "So, I'm not fine. Not okay. What the fuck else do you want? A goddamn medal for putting yourself between me and my fucking worst nightmare? I'll give you one. Whatever. But you don't get to just fly back into my life whenever it suits you, K. In case you've forgotten, _you're_ the one that left me hanging after you took off for home. So what the fuck was I supposed to think, huh?"

At that, Kala's eyes widened, her expression starting to soften, if only fractionally, and her arm dropped from around his chest.

Jay took a deep breath, sucking in oxygen that he hadn't realized he'd been missing thanks to her grip, and he lifted his hands to her shoulders, catching her gaze squarely.

"Well?" he prodded.

Kala's lips twisted, and she shook her head minutely. "That's unfair and you know it. What the hell was I supposed to say to that damn voicemail, Jay? At what point did you ever make it clear what you wanted? Oh, yeah, that's right. You plant a world-ender of a kiss on me, only to send me off to board my plane like a good little girl, then call me with that when you knew damn well I was on the plane and couldn't answer! Whatever, you'd see me around. And then I was mobbed coming off the plane. The band, the label, my family, it's been a nonstop circus since I walked out of here. For fuck's sake, my little sister came out of the closet, my brother's wife is pregnant with _twins_ , and my band spent two months without me living like wild animals in L.A. How exactly was I supposed to react to that? Have you ever considered that I've been trying to decide what to say back, and I don't have any more of a clue than you do? Especially when you _know_ how crazy my work life is and that I have four boys on the bus with me that don't know I'm the Blur, _or_ that I started something while I was in Gotham. You didn't exactly give me much of a window to figure out whatever the hell _this_ is," she said, pointing between the two of them.

And goddammit, she was fucking right. Jay felt like smacking his own head against the wall for being such a goddamn moron. Too caught up in the thoughts chasing themselves around his own skull to see it from her perspective.

But he was too much on a roll to let her see that get to him, and he went on, "Well, why the fuck did we have to wait until you were two minutes from leaving to do anything about this, then? Wasn't like we didn't have all fucking summer!"

Another breath, and he realized he was shouting in her face, his body pressing up against hers and his fingers tightening on her shoulders. A dozen memories of the fantasies that'd plagued him all summer came rushing back to the forefront of his mind, and it was all he could do to keep from spinning her around and pressing her against the wall.

"You … you asshat!" she shouted back at him, eyes sparking, and before he knew it, he'd been shoved back again. Only it was a bit more gentle this time, though her frown was at full-throttle. "Like my life isn't complicated enough. Why did _we_ have to wait? Why did _you_ fucking wait until the absolute last second! Not to mention, we didn't _have_ all summer! I didn't even meet you until I'd been here a month, and just in case you forgot, we fucking _hated_ each other on sight! Mostly because _you_ were determined to be the biggest asshole in town so you could chase the pretty little princess off before she got herself killed. You are the most ass-backwards kind of protective moron I've ever met!"

Her mouth was twisted with frustration, but her eyes looked hurt. The combination wasn't what he'd expected to see. And she wasn't done yet, still snarling in his face. "Around the time we finally got to halfway tolerating each other you starting pulling this shit of acting interested and then pulling away. How the hell was I supposed to know what was going on in your head, huh? And then at the very last goddamn second, you yank me around and kiss me for like a minute and a half—and then shove me off to my plane! What the hell, Jay?"

"Goddammit, what the fuck do you want me to say, here, K?" he snarled back at her, his hands somehow landing on her waist. "I couldn't just let you fucking go off and leave without … without doing _something,_ all right? I haven't been able to figure you out since the first moment we met, and I'd thought maybe you wanted the same fucking thing I did, but—" He trailed off, losing the words; it had just been _frustrating_ as hell and he hadn't known what to do or say and oh, look, here was that same feeling.

"I … Jesus Christ, why can't you ever be _clear_ about anything, Jay?" she said, cutting him off. All of this had to be tearing at her pretty bad to have her looking as wound up as it did. She wasn't even that pissed, he realized, despite tossing him around like a ragdoll; K was just as fraught as he'd been. "I don't even have a clue what the hell this is all about; I mean, are you just jealous that I have other things going on in my life, which started long before Gotham and you, or was it my Kryptonian Empress freak-out that's brought this up and you just can't handle that I'm a fucking mess under the surface?" He saw the way her jaw tightened then, the shame clear on her face. "Because if it was, seriously, I can just—"

But Jay couldn't let her go on with that line of thinking. "What!?" he cut in. "How the hell could you think that _that'd_ freak me out? For fuck's sake, I haven't had a hard-on that epic since I was fucking _thirteen_ and first discovered porn! _"_

And that was it. Holy shit, had he really said that? _Fuck. Fuck, fuck,_ _ **fuck**_ _._

Kala looked up at him again with her hazel eyes widened, glinting in the low light of the apartment with a bewildered expression, and Jay could just imagine all the wheels spinning in her head then; if he was lucky, she'd just shove him again and take off, leave him to drown his misery in peace.

But she didn't move an inch, her lips working like she couldn't figure out what to say to that, and Jay very nearly decided to shove her away himself, send her on her way just to get out from beneath that shocked gaze. Shit, it couldn't be _that_ damn shocking, could it?

"So, you just gonna stare at me, K?" he said then, feeling like a bug beneath a microscope. "Or did you really think that anything you did could _ever_ freak me out? In case you didn't notice, I'm pretty well impervious to being freaked out; I _am_ a Gotham resident, you know, and the only Bat that's come back from the goddamned dead. You having a dark side isn't exactly a deal-breaker to the guy who went full villain not that long ago."

Kala blinked hard, and gave a slow shake of her head. "Oh my God. How the hell did I get myself into this?" she murmured softly, seeming utterly adrift, her grip on him slacking. The last of the anger was gone then, replaced with something both hopeful and lost. "I … what do you even want from me, Jay? No bullshit, no repercussions. Just say it, because I don't want to tip-toe around this shit anymore. Just tell me what you want. No more games. No more bruised egos. Just _talk_ to me."

"Dammit, I don't want anything _from_ you, Kala. I just … I want _you,_ for fuck's sake. So yeah, I'm fucking jealous. You're off touring the damn country with a bunch of guys and a fucking gaggle of groupies, and I'm here with my bottle of scotch, wondering whether you just don't want me at all, or whether you just can't fucking admit—"

But that was all Jay could get out, because suddenly his mouth was very much otherwise occupied, Kala's lips pressing against his, hard and sudden, her body pressed against his just as roughly. She was up on her toes to reach him, fingers twining into his hair, and he heard her moan in the back of her throat. All thought fled from his mind, the only thing left a sense of relief, triumph, and _finally._

It felt like forever that they stood there like that, Jay backed against the wall, the two of them writhing together as they kissed, open, hard, messy, everything there that they'd both been holding back for so fucking long. Kala was the one to finally pull back, look him in the eyes for a long moment, her gaze full of so many things he couldn't even begin to separate them. Whatever it was she was looking for, she must have found it, though. With the faintest smile, she leaned back into him to whisper against his lips, "That wasn't so hard, was it? I'm not Donna, Jay." He felt her slip her hands up to push the jacket off his shoulders and slowly peel the domino off of his face, her own following. "Who says I can't admit it?"

In that moment, Jay felt completely naked, bared to the world; by his count, Kala _was_ the world right now. And there was only one way to respond, his chest tight and throat constricting with something he wasn't sure he'd ever felt before, because God fucking dammit, she'd said it. Not in so many words, but her statement had been loud and clear.

And Jay wasn't about to let it end there.

His own hands sliding up from her waist, he found the zipper pull on Kala's uniform and slowly tugged, the sound of the teeth parting loud in the tiny apartment, only accompanied by their breaths and heartbeats—and fuck, she could probably hear every damn thunderous beat of his heart. _Fuck._

But then he pushed her uniform back, she shrugged her shoulders out of it, their gazes locked on each other with no room for consideration of anything else. There was nothing beneath the lightly armored suit, just Kala's skin smooth and pale in the low light. A growl escaped Jay as he took her in, and he drew her to him again, reveling in the heat of her—hot, she was fucking Kryptonian, a solar-powered furnace—before he kissed her again, deeply this time. There was no hesitation in Kala then, giving as good as she got, eyes closed as she held onto his shoulders for balance. No way was she gonna back away now. A simple spin, and he had her up against the wall, pressing the length of his body along hers, every nerve in him sparking with anticipation.

Holy fuck, it was worth the wait.

 _Kala_ was worth the wait.

* * *

 **A/N:** No, this is not the end.


	46. Red and Black

**Authors' Note:** This chapter contains smut. If you'd rather not read that, hold on until Tuesday. That said, there's TONS of plot in this. You should still get some of it again next chapter, but heads-up.

If you've been waiting 300k words for smut, well, here ya go. Enjoy. :)

* * *

Kala had known it was coming, somehow, like booming thunder follows a lightning strike as the storm rolls in. From the moment she had forced him to face her here, on his turf, an explosion was inevitable. It hadn't been her intention when she flew to Gotham tonight; she told herself that she had just wanted to check on Jay, to make sure that he was doing better to cope than she was, that the Clown had left his nightmares for a time again. That she was holding out hope that he didn't see her now as the monster she'd let slip loose when she had last been here, the one she'd never said a whisper about. That just maybe she could figure out how he was controlling the wild electricity that she still felt, even now, just seeing him again.

It seemed she'd found her answers, no matter her original intention.

Kala found herself pinned up against the wall, stripped to the waist and moaning hungrily into Jay's mouth, unable to stop touching him, and there were still too damn many clothes between them. After so long, all of these conflicting emotions were eating her up inside. Now that they had gotten here, now that he had finally said it, stopping _now_ would be like trying to hold back a collapsing mountain. Not even she had the strength, too much, too quickly. No escape, and none wanted. Kala wanted bare skin under her hands, _needed_ it, everything she hadn't allowed herself to do before, and yanked his shirt up with urgency burning along every nerve. Jay stepped back from her and she pulled it over his head gracelessly, hearing it tear at the seams and not caring before tossing it to the floor with his jacket.

His hands were ceaseless, moving everywhere against her flushed skin, cupping her breasts and kneading them, tracing the curves of her sides. Blood pulsed lava-hot in her veins, every move he made against her skin almost shocking to the senses, but she wanted more. Her breath speeding up, she pressed closer with an encouraging croon, her hand sliding down over his bare chest to tug at his belt. Her eyes flicked up to his for a moment, fighting for breath, and how that icy gaze burned. It was almost enough to end her right there; the want so painful in that instant, Kala lost her breath. _Oh God. I want this. This might fuck up the entire universe tomorrow, might ruin everything, but oh dear God, I want him so bad. Just for tonight, please, just for tonight let it all work out right._

Now that she could allow herself to feel what she'd been fighting most of the summer, Kala refused to make excuses for it any longer. She'd never been willing to sleep with anyone she hadn't already been romantically involved with, a relationship established, but this felt like it would be more than a one-night-stand with Jay. Her instincts were awful, she knew that, but everything was telling her this was right. Whatever came next, this wasn't just a moment of random lust to exorcise; whatever came next, Kala was determined that she would not to lose this, even if it just settled back into their intense friendship. She would not run again, not this time. But for now, this instant, none of that mattered. No time for repercussions. No time even for how torn she'd felt between his world and hers. Tonight was theirs and theirs alone. Time out of sync with the real world; no matter what came after, it would be worth it. Just from the look in his eyes, it would all be worth it. Jay bucked against her questing, shaking hands, those eyes were on her, and the weight of his body pinning her against the wall was more than Kala could stand. But the damn belt just would not give—

So with a growl and what she knew was a frustrated pout, she pushed him back, just enough to get space for her heat vision to sear the belt's joints. There hadn't been occasion to do something this intricate before, but she blessed her control and all those years of narrowing her beams thin enough. She'd never put her powers on display like this with anyone else. With anyone else, she would've been too self-conscious, but then, no one else in her bed had ever known her for what she was. If anything, that realization – and the fact that his expression showed he didn't mind at all – brought the heat up higher. With a tiny smirk and another strong yank to bring him back to her, the belt was out of her way. Jay laughed at that, licking a wet line up the pale column of her throat, and she gasped and rolled her hips against him with a shiver. God, he made her crazy.

Jay dropped to his knees in front of her then. He knew her entire uniform as well as she did, and unzipped the boots for her with quick, greedy motions, Kala kicking them off into the shadows eagerly. Her catsuit had caught at her hips, and while he was kneeling Jay grabbed the material and tugged it down. Kala gasped at that, arching away from the wall with a little shimmy of levitating flight that let him peel her out of the uniform in one clean yank, the suit disappearing somewhere over Jay's shoulder and into his apartment.

All she was wearing now was a thin black satin thong, and Jay nuzzled her there, taking a deep breath. Lightning, sharp and swift, exploded through her body, leaving her wide-eyed at the intensity, her back arching strongly into the touch, her gasp loud in the quiet room. _Oh_ _ **God**_. Kala threw her head back with a drawn-out moan, forgetting the wall was there, and then not caring that she'd probably just dented it.

Jay kissed her through the thin material, provoking a throaty shudder as she stared at the ceiling in an attempt to keep her mind together when everything wanted to shatter, and then his hands were on her hips. She felt a touch of something cold and sharp on one side, and her panties fell, slashed by Jay's damned ever-present knife. Completely bare now, Jay's breath warm against her skin, she bucked against his mouth, and he took a hurried taste of her. Kala's entire body lit up then, that sudden flicker of lust lighting her up again, momentarily losing her breath in the intensity of it. " _Jay!_ " she cried out, urgent, breathless, grabbing a handful of his hair to yank him up. It would be over before they started if he stayed where he was and she didn't want that. Not after so long; she needed _him_ , greedy, desperate, now, _right now_ , before the world went supernova. "Jay, _please_."

Jeans and red boxer-briefs underneath fell before her strength, another touch of heat vision, the next few moments a blur as they fumbled the fabric aside. He'd gotten a condom from _somewhere_ —was there a protection-pocket on the Bat-belt or something? Kala didn't know, didn't care, hissing with impatience as he tore the foil. Without a word, she took it from him, putting it on with a trace of her speed, too eager to wait even those few extra seconds. God, she was shaking, eyes flicking to his, even more craven when she saw those ice-pale eyes darken just a bit. That was for her, that reaction there was _all_ for her. _Yes. Yes, now. Can't wait anymore. Jay…_

Jay slid his hands beneath her thighs and lifted her, another gasp falling from her lips, and then she was wrapping her legs around his back. "Yes," her half-closed eyes on his, nuzzling her nose against him, waiting with bated breath. Still shivering. His mouth on hers again, hard, searching, and she sucked his lip between hers, worried at it with her teeth. Jay was panting, as eager for this as she was, throbbing hot against her belly. God, she was going to die on the spot if they waited much longer. "Yeah. _Yeah._ Please. C'mon, Jay, I want, I _want_ ," she whimpered, her voice breathy, arching her hips against him as she cupped his cheek, rough under her palm with a day or two of not shaving. "Now, _please_."

He took her slow, as slowly as he could when every nerve and cell of him had to be screaming for fulfillment just like she was. "Fuck, so _hot_ , so fucking hot, K," he gasped, voice low and harsh, groaning with hunger and restraint.

Kala shuddered, on the verge of climax from hearing that alone, gritting her teeth against it so the first wouldn't be over so soon. Never mind what she did and didn't do, this was everything she wanted in the world, _everything_. And still, Jay took his time, thrusting into her for the first time almost gently, hot and _so_ hard. The stretch within her was exquisite, and she tilted her hips to take him deeper, a whimper escaping her as her hips finally lay flush against his.

Another roll of hips, and he drew back enough to slam into her, hard this time, drawing a high and startled moan from her. Instantly, she thrust back, closing her eyes against the pleasure of it. Her skin felt on fire as she raked her nails up his back, Jay hissing and gasping with the sting as he set up a rhythm, in and out, faster, shoving her back against the wall with the entirety of his weight. She welcomed it, met him thrust for thrust, swiveling her hips, giving a short, sharp cry each time they came together. Jesus, why did he have to feel so damn good? So worth all of the waiting, the worrying, the damn tension.

The room began to swim around them, Kala hardly able to breathe now, all her focus on Jay, _Jay,_ the goddamn Red Hood, as he held her pinned, his fingers wound into her hair, little groans deep in his throat as he bent to nip at her neck with sure little bites, his stubble rasping at her skin. It was everything she'd dared to imagine, raging and violent, passionate and gentle, and Jay still somehow managed to surprise her, finding the place on her arm that'd been sliced that night in the warehouse—without a scar to guide him, he still found it—and dropping little soothing kisses on it as he slowed his rhythm.

The warm tickle of his breath on her skin sent a shiver down her spine, and something hot and desperate curled within her belly then, tightening and pulsing as he drove her higher, and then the world went gray, haze obscuring her vision as she gasped, pleasure exploding like tiny fireworks that rushed to every nerve ending. Free-fall, it was like plummeting from the stratosphere, faster, _faster_ , on the verge of catching fire…

"Kala," Jay growled against her lips as he kissed her again, incoherent with lust, practically chanting her name. "Kala. Fucking God, Kala. _Fuck!"_

Everything was sensation then, Kala pressing her palms against his back when she was overwhelmed. She couldn't help a high, broken cry, a choked scream, whimpering his name as he thrust deep into her then, lips pressed to his temple as she rode it out, their hips rolling together, and Jay tensed on his last exclamation, his body gone rigid. Then what started as a groan somewhere deep in Jay's chest suddenly erupted as a roaring cry, and he thrust one final time, both of them riding high the wave of adrenaline and endorphins that followed.

After a long moment, the world finally seemed to right itself, and they sagged together against the wall, Kala's still-weak legs sliding from around Jay's waist as he slipped free of her. Still shaking from it all, Kala leaned heavily against the wall as she tried to catch her breath, and he somehow found the wherewithal to discard the condom.

It was only whenher senses returned that the sudden shock of what they'd just done, what she had just done, hit her. Hard. _Oh my God. That just – shit, that just happened…_

But Kala's line of thought was blasted away with one smirking grin from Jay as he rested his forehead against hers, both of them sweat-slicked and still recovering their breaths. "I seriously fucking need a cigarette now," he said, voice low and rough from abuse. "You?"

Kala shot him a quick grin, all of her sudden worries quieting at his tone. For the first time in weeks, they were on the same wave-length. She was unprepared for the way her heart turned over in her chest at that, just the warm tone of his voice after. There was no way to pinpoint the moment he'd first gotten under her skin, but also no point in denying it any longer. And she was finding that she couldn't let herself regret giving in the slightest little bit. God help her. And, in light of that, she knew she had no intention of going home anytime soon.

"Yeah," she panted as she ran a hand through his hair, her eyes still dazed with heat, but the sleepy grin she gave him was full of wicked intent. "A cigarette, a minute to catch my breath, and then round two is _mine_."

"Round two?" Jay murmured, his eyes bright.

Kala laughed, low and husky, and kissed him again. How did he keep surprising her with flashes of utterly unexpected sweetness? And why did that just draw her in more? "Oh, hell yeah. And you better be up for it, Red, 'cause once against the wall is nowhere near enough for me. Not after all this lead-up." She paused then, raising a single eyebrow at him, "Don't tell me you thought once was all you were getting?"

"Never dreamed it," he replied, nipping lightly at her mouth. "'Sides, you said it—you're no one I've ever had before."

Oh, God, this was so going to be a bad idea, with where her emotions had been dragging her; they had been dancing around this since the summer because of the possible outcome. But tonight, she had no intention of turning her back on him. To hell with caution. This had been everything she'd hungered for the last two months. At this moment in time, there wasn't a single place she'd rather be. The consequences could be dealt with in daylight. For now, she was determined to make this night last as long as it possibly could be. Kala wanted everything she could get. "Damn right," she breathed with the ghost of a laugh before catching his lips again with hers.

…

Luckily, Jay had an open floor plan, so it was easy to stagger weak-kneed the few steps through the living area to collapse into the armchair once they'd both gotten breath and balance back. _God_ _ **damn,**_ _Kala!_ He shook his head in sheer amazement, pawing a pack of cigarettes off the table and shaking out two of them. Now if only he could remember where his fucking lighter was…

Coming up alongside him, Kala leaned up against the chair, snagging a smoke out of his hand deftly, and lit it with a concentrated glance. That was when he remembered her using heat-vision before. "Remind me to show you where the catch on the belt is," he rasped. "Not that it totally matters—I got spares downstairs—but still."

She let out another husky laugh, so unlike her usual high bell tones, eyes full of amusement in the low light. "I don't think I would've waited, regardless," she purred, and leaned down to light his cigarette, too. The view of her glorious naked body distracted him, and the next thing he knew, Kala had slithered into his lap, straddling his thighs. No way could he go again this quick, which she seemed to get by the way she didn't push once she'd settled, but a sudden twitch of interest told him round two wasn't far away.

"So was this what you meant by 'round two is yours'?" he rumbled, his free hand sliding up along her side. God, she looked so delicious, her hair all rumpled from the mauling up against the wall, her topknot starting fall.

"I mean you got everything your way last time. Guess it's only fair, since I made you finally spit out what it was you wanted from me. However, this time _I'm_ running the show, Red. That is, once you get a chance to recover. Don't hurry on my account. I'll just sit here for a minute, if it's all right with you. No rush." With that she swiveled her hips with that teasing little grin of hers, both slow and wicked, and oh fuck _yes_.

"By the time I finish this cigarette I'll be up for anything you want," Jay promised.

Kala smirked, leaning forward to nuzzle into the curve of his neck, and Jay felt the gentle nipping of her teeth a moment later. Her voice was a hot little murmur against his skin. "Robins and their puns."

A chuckle escaped him at that. "Nah, that's Dickie-Bird's thing. I try to be more direct."

"Oh really?" she shot back, coming up to catch his gaze, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Then how come it took you this long to—"

Shutting Kala up with a kiss, barely stifling her chuckle, Jay twined his tongue with hers, tasting the menthol of his brand on her mouth. She rolled her hips against him again, and he groaned into the kiss, heat stirring down below already.

"Fuck, Kala," he breathed against her lips, snaking his free hand around her waist and drawing her closer.

That prompted a happy little purr from her, another kiss that was just a brush of lips. "I promised you that that was the plan, didn't I? Although I really ought to make you shave first. You're almost as scruffy as when I first saw you."

He'd been playing homeless then, and Jay grinned fiercely. "You wanna wait that long, fine, Princess. I thought you were kind of impatient with my _human_ limitations here."

Her eyes blazed – and thank fuck, _not_ red with heat vision. "You're such an ass," Kala growled. "Keep your scruff. It suits the 'bad boy' image I like so much."

Jay only chuckled, reaching up to stroke her neck, where a little redness showed from the stubble-burn. "And I like marking you up a little. Who knew Kryptonian weaknesses included stubble?"

"Stubble, blue eyes, a jaybird mouth, and some actual skills under all the attitude, yeah, that'll do it," Kala laughed back. Another wicked smile appeared on her face as she planted a hand on his chest then, sitting up slightly, and she turned to take a long drag off her cigarette, pulling the thing almost halfway to the filter with one breath—holy fuck, super-breath too, he should've figured.

Jay followed suit with his own cig, rolling the smoke around in his mouth for a moment as he watched Kala blow a smoke ring.

"Color me impressed," he said, matching her smirk with one of his own.

But that only brought one of Kala's eyebrows up. There was that husky chuckle again. "Oh, Red, you haven't seen _anything_ yet."

And that. That. _Oh fuck, yes._ Jay was starting to feel like he'd fallen down the rabbit hole, and was fucking loving every second of it. He couldn't get enough of her, of all the little things that she did, the things he was learning about her now, that he only could've guessed about before.

Another slide of Kala's hips, her core hot and wet atop him— _Fuck!_ —and Jay shivered, gasping, his eyes rolling back. "You have any idea what you do to me?" he whispered.

"I think you're giving me a pretty good idea. And I have no objections to you filling in the details," Kala said with a sultry little grin he could hear in her voice as she took another long drag. He opened his eyes again just as she was reaching over to the little table to stub out the cigarette, her spine twisting and whole body bending with the movement.

Jesus fuck, she was a fucking contortionist. Jay couldn't keep his jaw from dropping. Sure, he'd seen her move like this in training, but here, now, it was the sexiest fucking thing he'd ever seen.

And then her hands were on his chest again, sliding down and tracing lines on his skin that he'd collected over the years since his 'death'. He couldn't help another shiver beneath her touch, and he flicked his own cig into the ashtray, abandoning any pretense at trying to smoke when all he wanted to do was let Kala have her wicked way with him, as she'd promised.

A puckered dent here, from a bullet that luckily hadn't gone too deep, and a long slash there, from some asshole with a knife. The jagged line at the base of his neck, a piece of shrapnel from the gun that Bruce had blocked with a Batarang on that fateful day. Knotted places on several ribs where they'd been broken and healed. And last but not least, the still-pink slash across his belly, the one she'd sewn up. A little frown flitted over her features as she skirted around that one, something that looked like regret. Kala traced them all, the wicked look on her face slowly fading as her fingers continued to trace his history through the evidence left behind. "Jesus, Jay. I know your past was wild and crazy, but…." She met his eyes then, her expression both serious and thoughtful. Her delicate touch was gliding over his shoulders now, down his arms. "It's incredible that you're still in one piece."

"Hey, I'm fond of some of these souvenirs – and these are only since I came back. I was actually pissed about losing some of the good ones when I got resurrected. Scars are memories. At least, for those of us who can't fix things with sunlight," he said, running his fingertips lightly up and down her side.

She rolled her eyes at that, her self-consciousness obvious when she moved to brush her lips over the contours of his chest, pausing to trace the most prominent line with her tongue. "Oh, yeah, nice going. Remind me I'm a solar-powered freak." Still, he could hear that the smirk was back, her lips curving against his chest.

Jay was having none of it though, and tugged her tight against him so that she looked up at him with surprise. "You're not a _freak_ , Kala. You're a goddamn _goddess_." Her lashes fluttered at that, and he kissed the hollow of her throat.

"There you go, confusing me with your ex again. Gotta find a way to make you stop doing that. Just maybe I'll manage it tonight," Kala purred, amusement in her gaze, stretching her head back. After the way she'd blown up over Donna so far, the way she was joking about it now was a little surprising. Maybe she was getting over that, as she should have long ago.

"Big difference between princess and goddess," he muttered against her skin, hands roving. Every inch of her was like warm silk, so impossibly soft and smooth, yet he knew the strength and suppleness of her, knew the power her graceful form contained. Only one thing could make this more perfect, and Jay did it, pulling her hair down so it fell in waves around them both.

"You're so hopeless. Sweet, but totally wrong. She's technically both. And I'm neither, princess nor goddess—just _alien_ ," she whispered, her voice a warm murmur in his ear. Kala rocked against him slowly, the tips of her hair tickling his neck, and to make sure she knew the alien thing didn't bother him in the _slightest_ , Jay slid his hands up to cup her breasts. That had her whimpering immediately at the contact, eyes rolling back and shivering, and he chuckled low in his throat. Another weakness sussed out.

The next thing he knew, his hands were pinned down to the arms of the chair. " _No_ , Red. I said this round was _mine_ ," Kala told him breathily, her eyes darkening in the glow. "And you don't want to do that. Keep _that_ up, it'll be over too soon, and I think we both don't want that." Teasingly, he leaned in to lap at a nipple, but Kala arched away from him. "I said _no_ , greedy," she laughed.

And then she set out to prove that hours of dancing was good training for _anything_. Without letting him move his hands, still pinning him down in the chair, she moved above and against him, never letting him in, never letting him have control. Just close enough to feel the heat of her, the friction as she let her hips rotate achingly slow at first, teasing them both with the nearness, the scent of her hair and her perfume closer than the body she wasn't allowing him to touch.

But then it built. Kala rested her temple for an instant against his jaw, nipping him very lightly there before moving back to his neck again. Her breath rapid against his skin as she sought out every inch of his skin for a response, almost as though she was trying to make a mental map. Lips against his throat, his jaw, his temple, gentle nips against his neck, the feel of them following the line of his shoulders, all the while keeping their bodies so close, yet not close enough.

Jay growled with frustration. He was ready, his pulse throbbing, and Kala's little sighs and whimpers as she teased him were pure torture. This was _nothing_ like what he'd expected, Kala on top and prolonging the agony, until all he wanted was to wrestle her to the floor and fuck her into next week.

But oh so sweet, such delicious torment, the heat of her _riiiight_ there but just out of reach. He was way past coherent speech, kissing every inch of skin he could reach, nipping at her, too—not that his teeth could do any harm—and the way she gasped or sighed when he did was music to him. Both of them were just barely holding on, Kala shaking, Jay ready to lose it right then. He couldn't take much more of this…

Finally, _finally_ , she let go of his hands, her arms sliding around his neck. Jay looked up into her eyes, and saw a storm of emotion there, with desire uppermost. No way could he resist that. Pausing only to grab a condom from the drawer nearby—that was Bat-training, too, always have protection handy, and _always_ use it—and roll it on, he caught Kala by the hips.

With a low, husky chuckle, she rose up and looked at him, positioned perfectly. He could feel her shaking, even like this, knew she was barely holding on, too. " _Now_ ," Kala breathed, never looking away. She saw the look in his eyes and knew what he wanted; she read his mind just like they did in training. "It's what I want, too. Come on."

Growling, Jay tightened his hands on her hips and pulled her down onto him sharply, both of them gasping at the enormity of sensation. Kala whispered his name, her eyes rolling closed, head thrown back violently and _fuck_ , she looked so hot like that—totally abandoned to it, riding him with a quickening rhythm. Jay wrapped his arms around her, one hand on her shoulder pulling her down a little harder with each thrust.

Kala raked one hand into his hair, still controlling the pace and swiveling her hips against him. Her breath was quick and light as she leaned her forehead against his, tightening around him, clutching for several seconds before releasing slowly, just enough to startle him. "Close, so close...already. But … but don't … don't want it over … just yet," she moaned between gasps. "Oh God, Jay..."

"Wouldn't dream of … disappointing you," he breathed back, unable to help a grin as he lifted his hips to meet her.

But Kala fixed him with a stern look, her eyes glinting again—Jesus fuck, he was gone for her fucking _eyes_ —and she dropped down to pin him more firmly to the chair. " _Mine_ ," she whispered, leaning close and finishing with a nip at the top of his ear.

Jay shivered at that, a low moan escaping him. "Anything," he whispered back, voice hoarse, "Fuck, anything, K. Just— _nngh_!"

His eyes rolled back again as Kala chuckled, nipping his ear again and moving above him, taking him deeply and lifting up to tease him with the promise of that sweet heat in turns.

"Never … imagined _you'd_ be this easy to … take apart, Red," she laughed low, before stealing a quick, fiery kiss. Then she was rising up to catch his gaze again, her lips tilted in that mischievous smile. "Gotta remember that for … later."

Kala's fingers tugged at Jay's hair then, hard, drawing a shocked gasp from him. Holy fuck, Jay could get used to this. Tingles shot down his spine with the sudden sting in his scalp, and his whole body shuddered with delight. "Not gonna last much longer … like this," he breathed.

"Oh no, you don't, Jay," she said, shaking her head slightly, even when Jay could feel her fighting the same battle, "you're not getting off … that easy."

Jay laughed and shuddered again, looking Kala square in the eyes. "Thought puns were a Robin thing."

Kala smirked down at him. "Never said it was—" she paused, swiveling her hips in some kinda figure eight that wound Jay up into a little ball of fire that was damn near ready to explode, "exclusive."

He groaned, arching up into her, and she gave a little hiss of pleasure at the sensation, bearing down on him in return. No matter what she wanted, no matter how much he wanted to give it to her, it wasn't going to last all night like this, not for either of them. The best Jay could do was hang on, hold back, try to enjoy the ride as long as he could. But then Kala started to quicken, to rock a little harder against him, and he saw her eyes begin to go wide and unfocused as heat spiraled up within her. K had hit her limit.

 _That_ was too much, Kala gripping the back of the chair to drive herself harder onto him as she got close, and Jay was lost, thick animal noises in the back of his throat and his hands greedy on her skin. When she cried out—one hand tight in his hair, her cheek against his as she screamed through gritted teeth—he was right behind her with another howl of pure ecstasy.

She collapsed onto him in a cloud of dark hair, still whimpering against his shoulder, shockingly small for the powerhouse that had just taken him. Both of them panting for air, Kala kissing his neck in between breaths, and she just couldn't stop shaking and making those little sounds. Sensory overload, nerves frayed, they were both still high on the aftereffects.

"Jesus _fuck_ , Kala," he finally managed to say, his voice hoarse—shit, he'd be lucky if he could talk tomorrow at all, at this rate.

There was a momentary pause before Kala gave a tired laugh in reply, her expression lost in the forest of her hair. Obviously still trying to get her head straight. "Yeah, that." Nothing had ever sounded hotter than that sex-roughened husky voice.

…

Eventually, Kala could breathe and think coherently again. She couldn't remember how long it had been since she'd almost grayed out after she peaked. Holy God, what the hell was it between them that he could do that to her only the second time they'd had sex? Just … _damn_.

Once awareness fully came back, she found herself still in Jay's lap. With a groan, she made herself sit up, running a hand through her loose hair to rake it back. Glancing at the man himself, she had to chuckle. He still had that dazed look on his face that was quickly endearing itself to her. As typically girly as it made her sound, the sight made her want to snuggle him, just seeing the effect that she was having on him. If she'd known the day she met him…

It was almost frightening how seeing this side of him only served to make her more intrigued. He was such a huge bundle of contradictions and it was becoming obvious that she'd just barely scratched the surface of who the _real_ Jason Todd was. The fact was, it was more and more clear that this was an undertaking she was willing to task herself with. That thought in mind, she gave him a little smile and asked in laughing tones, "So, um … tell me, Jaybird: does this qualify as not ignoring you anymore?"

"Hell yeah," he laughed back, his arm around her waist tightening just a bit.

"So no more about the voicemail and how Little Red can't admit to her Big Bad Wolf fetish, huh? I think we both know that I wasn't just being a tease, playing games to amuse herself. We've got that figured out now; that's squared away?" There was still a slightly taunting note in her voice, but she was serious.

Jay wasn't quite serious yet, though. "I dunno, if it gets me laid like that I might have to bring it up more often."

Kala rapped him on the skull, just gently. "It won't. Your laying privileges from the voicemail have _expired_ , Red."

"Aw, fine. I'll figure something else out," he halfheartedly pouted, running his hands lightly up her sides in a way that would've made her purr half an hour ago, but only tickled now, with her exhaustion.

She squirmed slightly and then caught his hands, gaze firmly on his face. "Seriously, Red. Because obviously we can't communicate for shit if it's about something like this, I just wanna know while neither of us is acting stupid. Are we good now? Are we on the same page with everything?"

Jay looked up at her, those pale blue eyes finally serious—and calm. The angry tension that had laid beneath his surface for most of the time she'd known him seemed to have died down for the moment. "Yeah, K. We're on the same page. You're not ignoring me for your groupies, and I'm not scared of your dark side. Also we want the absolute hell outta each other. Sound about right?"

"Sounds good to me." She couldn't help but smile in relief. They hadn't defined a damn thing about whatever they were doing and what they were to each other, other than the quite obvious attraction, but Kala got the feeling that wasn't something Jay could easily quantify. This _was_ the guy that she'd practically had to throw through a wall to get him to admit he was interested in her at all.

Although it wasn't exactly like she could quantify it, either. Maybe it was better that way. At least for now. Looking at it too closely might just destroy it.

And speaking of destroying things… "How's your back?" she asked with a shy chuckle.

He stretched, and only winced a little. "Just bruised. I've had worse."

Kala groaned. This had to stop. It just amazed her how often they found themselves in this situation. And how often of late it was her fault. "Why is it every time we get together, I end up beating you up?"

"Payback for training, when I kept sending you home to the Manor with fresh bruises every day?" Jay suggested. "I mean, I did grab you by the ankle and smack you into the wall a couple dozen times. Besides, K, it's kind of a tradition. The second time we met, you broke my nose."

Oh, yeah, _that_ was going to make her feel better. "Oh, _God_ , not this again!" she groaned, dropping her head in her hands. "I think I've already told you I'm sorry a hundred times, Jay. I shouldn't have done that, okay? Even if you were being an ass about things."

"Hey, hey, quit it," Jay said, catching her chin so he could look at her. "It's not like it slowed me down. That was the moment when I knew you weren't just playing at being a cape, all right?"

She looked at him warily, and Jay sighed. "Also I have this fetish for dangerous women—as you should be able to tell by now," he added with a little smirk, "—and you put yourself in that category in a big way."

Pouting, Kala rolled her eyes. "Fine. But it doesn't change the fact that I still feel a little guilty about it." She reached out then and gently traced her fingertips down the bridge of his nose. Thank God it had healed cleanly. He was just too gorgeous to mar up that bad.

"That's fine, I can use that guilt to get myself laid again," Jay said cheerfully, and she couldn't help it. Instinctively, she smacked his shoulder, hard.

That at least lightened the mood enough that she could laugh out loud, Jay laughing right along with her. "You're an ass! See, now I do it on reflex. You have _got_ to stop being such a jerk! God, Jay!"

He only nuzzled her throat. "Hey. Much as I like having a lapful of Super, you wanna take this somewhere a little more comfortable? Say, the bed that's three feet away?"

Kala hesitated. She had rehearsal in the morning, and would be onstage tomorrow night. Common sense dictated that she couldn't linger—but it wasn't as if Sebast would be home before dawn, the way he'd been going on before she left, and she didn't want Jay thinking this was a fuck-and-run, either. From what she'd gathered about his past, he'd had enough of that from other people. "Sounds good to me," she whispered, kissing his temple. "I'm starting to lose feeling in my legs, Super or no Super."

Jay made good on it as soon as she let him up, lighting up another cigarette on the way after disposing of their second condom. Funny how she'd just had sex with him twice and this was the first time she'd been in a bed with him. Kala snuggled herself into his side, still tracing the many scars on his chest, and then looked up at him gravely. Jay was contemplating her, too, running his fingers through her hair as if he couldn't quite believe she was real. "So, seriously. The reason I was looking for you tonight was to see how you were doing. You know, after all that bullshit last week. _Are_ you really okay?"

"Yeah, _now_ I am," he replied.

Kala flicked his nose. "Jay. I'm being serious."

"So am I."

"Oh really? That so? No nightmares, then? At all?"

Jay shrugged. "I always have nightmares if I don't drink enough. Fact of life, for me. Of course, the last month or so I've been having a lot of sex dreams about you, and I figure I'll have even more now that I've got the right sound effects in mind."

The way he said it was so blatantly true, it made her blush in spite of the fact that she was curled up naked with him, and Jay's chest rumbled with amusement at it.

"Good to know now. But that's not what I meant and we both know it. You're deflecting, Jay." Kala propped herself up on an elbow and stared at him, wanting him to know she was dead serious. "Are you going to be okay after facing that piece of trash again? That's all I want to know. Because I wasn't. I've been having nightmares, but I could deal because I have them about other stuff. I'm not as close to the source. I just want to know that _you're_ okay."

Jay looked up at her, folding an arm behind his head. Dealing with him was like peeling an onion, layers of sarcasm and misdirection and sometimes aggression. But this was as close to the truth as she'd ever been. "I'll be fine. It's not the first time, it won't be the last. Besides, you put yourself between me and him, kryptonite be damned. Gotta give you props for that." Jay glanced away to take a drag off his cigarette.

With those last words, she could see his shields coming up again, and decided to let him alone for now. Kala leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "You're welcome. And thanks for not walking away last week. It's just … believe it or not, I actually give a damn how you are, Jay. That's what you do when you trust someone."

"Yeah," he said quietly, looking more contemplative now as she settled in again, "I guess it is."

For a long while, she just lay there listening to Jay smoke, his long, slow breaths, his steady heartbeat. Time passed in comfortable silence with no further reply, and Kala let her eyes drift shut, her head propped on his chest with a long-needed sense of relief filling her.

…

Talking about nightmares was always a bad idea.

The cackling just wouldn't stop. No matter which way he turned, that laugh eluded him. Jay roared, lashing out, unable to find the source.

But the bastard had to be here somewhere, and—

There, that greasy, green hair, scarred face, smeared with makeup.

Launching himself at the monster, knife in hand, Jay made to slice the Joker from throat to navel, gut him in one move, end that horrific cackle once and for all. But suddenly a knife was in his mouth, the stench of blood and smoke filling his nostrils as Joker laughed again.

"Not so fast, little birdie," the bastard singsonged, grinning that sick grin, and with a slash, Jay's world was nothing but pain, nothing but agony, nothing—

Drawing in a sudden, deep breath, Jay shot up in his bed, his eyes snapping open to get his bearings. And at once, he knew he wasn't alone. The bastard was here, in his apartment, trying to kill him again.

His favorite knife found his hand easily from beneath his pillow, and in one swift move, Jay had the fucker pinned, the blade at that pale throat, ready to cut the life out of him.

But the eyes that met him weren't the bloodshot crazy eyes of a maniac. Wide and blinking in the low light, hazel, and—

Jay sucked in another breath, withdrawing his knife from Kala's throat. "Fuck," he breathed, shivering. "I … sorry, K." Rolling away from her, he stashed the knife and leaned forward on his knees, pushing his hands through his hair. "Fuck."

Sitting up beside him, Kala laid a gentle hand on his bicep, and he looked up to catch her gaze, her expression soft and unafraid. He halfway expected her to bolt at waking up with a knife at her throat, but … but she didn't. There wasn't the slightest hesitation in her. Instead, she gave him a tiny smile. "Hey, I told you I'm no stranger to nightmares, Jay," she said quietly. "I'm informed and I was there, remember? You didn't hurt me. You stopped before you could. I would've healed even if you did. So it's absolutely not your fault. And stop hiding. I'm not running away from you for something like that. Gonna have to try harder."

Jay shivered again, seeing the earnestness on her face and hearing it in her voice. Kala wasn't about to fly off. She wasn't scared. She … she was still here beside him.

Jesus fuck, if that didn't say everything that needed saying.

Turning, he drew Kala into his arms, close against him, warm and soft, and nuzzled into her hair, breathing her in. Beneath the smoke and the faint odor that was distinctly Gotham, there was that candy-like scent that was so uniquely Kala. It was soothing, gentling his nerves one cell at a time, slowing the panic that had brought him up from sleep.

She nestled herself in, hugging him just as closely. "Jay, it's fine. You didn't hurt me at all. It happens. I'm okay." Pulling back a little, she petted him, stroking her hands through his hair and down over his tense shoulders and back, smoothing the strain away. "Let it go. It was just a dream. Just a nightmare." Pressing a kiss to his forehead, Kala met his eyes then, her warm smile teasing. "I have to say, that wasn't the kind of dreams I was hoping you'd have after tonight. I'm a little disappointed in myself. I make a _lousy_ dream-catcher."

Jay smirked weakly, and nuzzled down to her throat. "Guess I'll have to make up for that now we're both awake." And what better way to banish his haunted past for the night, than with the very real, very warm, very amazing present?

He felt her start a little. That she didn't seem to expect it just made it better. "Jay, no. It's the middle of the night and you just woke up from a bitch of a nightmare," she laughed softly as he kissed her neck, leaning into his touch. He could hear the little purr in the back of her throat that she tried to keep quiet. Still, she whispered, "Jay, don't. Not unless you really want to."

Jay stopped and looked up at her in the dark, his grin wolfish. "I'm in bed with _Supergirl_ , who just completely failed to freak out when she woke up with my knife to her throat. Of _course_ I want to."

"Well, when you put it _that_ way…" Despite her snort of dark humor, that smile was sweet, Kala running the back of her hand over his cheek before catching his lips in an unhurried kiss. This time would be slow—three in the same night wasn't impossible, especially not with someone as crazy-hot as Kala, but it wasn't ordinary either, and he needed some warm-up time. Besides, they were both still half-asleep and exhausted from earlier. Jay found himself focusing on the details, on things like how inky her hair looked lying loose and wavy against her pale breasts, how white her teeth were when she nipped at his shoulder delicately, or the way she was ticklish around her navel.

Kala squirmed adorably when he brushed his lips over the thin skin of her belly. Which reminded Jay of another little thing he'd noticed in the first round. "I never thought you were one of those girls who shave it all," he murmured, kissing slowly southward.

She purred, arching her hips at the touch, and Jay felt her eyes on him as he continued. "I'll tell you a little secret, Jaybird, since we've established that me being only half-human isn't an issue," Kala murmured with a little sigh. "One, Kryptonians are a naturally sparsely-haired people, the House of El more so than others. Wasn't much to lose in the first place. Two, I don't shave, I wax. More correctly, I _waxed_. Do it for enough years and your body gets the picture and gives up."

"Nice," Jay chuckled lightly, and skimmed past the topic of discussion to kiss the top of her thigh. The hissing breath she drew in when he did that made him grin.

A second later he was on his back, Kala stretched atop him, biting her lower lip slyly as she looked down at him. The silken weight of her was delicious against every square inch of contact—several inches in particular. " _You_ are an impossible tease," Kala told him, and kissed his nose with a chuckle.

"And you're not?" he replied huskily as she slid against him.

"Never said I wasn't, if you remember," she murmured, and silenced him with another long, slow, thorough kiss. Jay ran his fingertips up her spine lightly, burying his hands in her tousled hair. Slow and sensual, expression rapt on his body, Kala's hands explored every inch of him, the slight drag of her nails against his sides, and then her palms warm against his chest. Fingers curling, alternating between the lightest touch and the barest edge of her nails as she followed both the muscles and the scars down, lower, lower… She looked up at him through her lashes then, that hungry look back in her eyes. "As a matter of fact, if you have to go there…"

If she touched him there, the whole sensual thing would be over. Instead Jay rolled her over again, Kala yelping a laugh when he did. He caught her wrists and pinned them to the bed, nipping her neck. _That_ stopped the laughter suddenly, Kala's eyes going wide as she gasped. Jay could feel the strong shudder ripple through her. Well, well. It seemed the playful tease didn't mind being topped … at all. " _And_ you like it rough?" he murmured huskily. "God _damn_ , Kala."

She bit her lip again, probably blushing, definitely looking a little embarrassed. She didn't look away, though, holding his gaze. "All depends on who I'm with," she whispered back. "And how much I trust them."

It was a damn good thing he already knew about her dark side and her occasionally arrogant attitude and how sharp her temper was, or he might start to think she was perfect. Jesus fuck, that she trusted _him_ enough to let him play rough with her. It wasn't exactly something that Jay was used to, being trusted like that, and the mere idea of it sent a little thrill through him.

He couldn't help a low chuckle then, as he bent to nuzzle and nip at her neck again. It'd be one hell of a romp if he just let go with her, the way he'd wanted to since almost the moment he met her.

But … but this wasn't the time for that. Maybe, if there was a next time—and that was still a big 'if'—then he'd break out all the stops, fuck her into oblivion. Right now, all he wanted to do was make this last, show Kala that she really could trust him, and not just to know when to stop, or to know how much she could handle in the field, but that he wasn't the bastard that his brothers had once made him out to be, that this fucking _meant_ something to him.

Even if he was whistling in the dark to himself, not admitting _what_ it meant, because thinking that too loudly was a sure recipe for making it all blow up in his face.

Kala shivered as he continued to nuzzle at her neck, willingly leaning into him, and Jay released her wrists, smoothing his hands down her arms to where he could prop himself up on one elbow, the fingers of his other hand tracing the curve of her breast, her side, the hollow of her hip.

Her body rose to his touch as he trailed his fingers over her curves, and he could feel the weight of her gaze following his progress. "You trying to get some kind of reaction here, Red?" Kala teased, despite the way he could feel her shiver.

Jay caught her gaze again and smirked. "Just a little." And with one long stroke, he smoothed his fingers over the curve of that hip, down into her center, caressing that silky skin until Kala's whole body tensed, shuddering.

That put an end to that taunting. "Holy—" she cried out, eyes that had grown lidded instantly widening in the semi-darkness. Her hands found his shoulders, and she gripped him tightly, nails digging in. Whimpering softly again, she leaned further back, giving him a little more access. "Ohhh … dear … God, _Jay,"_ she moaned. "I … God, I… Just—"

Another smirk. "What, this?" And he sunk his fingers into her core with a long thrust.

Kala shuddered again, breath picking up, her eyes slipping shut this time. So warm, so wanton as she tightened around him. "You're … definitely … impossible," she repeated, her breath catching in her chest.

"I'm aware," Jay chuckled. He kept up the long, slow strokes, teasing her wickedly, until greed got the best of her and she was thrusting back against his hand with tiny sighs. Her breath came short, and she caught his wrist, trying to drive him deeper.

Sliding his fingers free of her, ignoring her urgent little whimper, he caught her thigh and moved to settle between her legs. Another quick move found a condom stashed in the drawer of the bedside table, and he tore into it, rolling it on before dropping back down to Kala, sliding into her.

Oh God, the sound she made when he was finally inside her, nails against his skin like tiny daggers. Sensation overwhelmed him—again—and he shivered at the contact. Jesus fuck, a third time, and the intensity of it was still just as strong. He had to freeze for a moment just to center himself.

Her voice was soft, husky with lust and full of amusement against his ear when she whispered hotly, "Guess I'd better take it slow with you, huh? Maybe we should have waited…"

But Jay's bravado wasn't about to be shoved under the rug just because he was a little over-stimulated. "I'm not exactly fragile, here," he laughed back, leaning down to kiss her squarely.

At that, all the teasing and snarking stopped, Kala sliding a little further down the bed to slip her long legs around Jay's waist as he started to move, still kissing her languidly, Kala responding with the same lazy pace. At first, he worked her slowly, a casual pace to get himself acclimated, and as their breaths started to quicken, a fire growing within, he picked things up, getting his knees beneath him to drive into her more deeply.

And holy fuck, she felt good. So goddamn wet, so hot. All for him— _fuck,_ that was almost enough to make him come right then, just the thought of it. He'd never been this close, to her, to the edge, to fucking bliss, and it was like dancing on the edge of a rooftop, one slip and he'd fall to his death.

But here, now, Kala was there to catch him, the caress of her hands ceaseless on his skin as if she had to learn every part of him, her lips against his forehead, his temple, a quick nip against his neck, his shoulder. Lower, her fingertips trailing over his chest, his stomach, his hips. She tightened her legs around him, quickening the speed of her thrusts against him, moaning his name against his ear in broken little cries. Before he knew it, he was thrusting so hard into her that it was driving her up the bed and almost to the wall, Kala giving as good as she got, a growl starting deep in his chest and his teeth clenching, her nails driving deeper as she pleaded with him for more, clutching as closely as she could, his whole body on fucking fire with this, with _Kala,_ and—

The world fucking exploded, Jay's vision filling with static, his muscles locked up, and it was only a miracle that his senses were still working enough to realize that Kala was practically screaming beneath him, her eyes rolled back in her head as she bucked up into his last thrust, her own body tense and shaking with it.

After a while, Jay finally came down from the high enough to slip out of her, dispose of the condom, and collapse onto the bed next to Kala, gathering her up close, their skin slicked with so much sweat that she might have slipped right out of his grip, if she wasn't clutching so hard to his shoulder still. Her breath was coming in sobs, her eyes still closed, lost to the final throes of her pleasure.

He wanted to say something profound in that moment, something to sum up the enormity of this whole thing, of _them,_ but with most of his blood still somewhere south of his brain, and the rest of him only working at partial capacity, there were just no words. Nothing could possibly come close to saying everything that he wanted to say, anyway, and for a long time, silence and panting breaths were the only sounds in the tiny apartment.

But finally, "Wow," he managed.

He could feel her laugh against his chest. Finally, she popped her head up, brushing a handful of raven waves out of her face. Even in the dark, he knew that her cheeks were flushed and he could feel how wildly her heartbeat still fluttered. Still, her grin was pure Kala, a hint of a smirk there even in her tired state. " _Wow_ , he says. Yeeeah. Understatement, Red. _Vast_ understatement."

Laughing in agreement, Jay turned and bent enough to kiss her deeply.

Because holy fuck. And that was all that could really be said, wasn't it?


	47. Revelations in the Light of Day

In coming up from the blessed quiet of sleep, Kala was certain at first that she was catastrophically hungover. Too bright, too loud, too … everything. She tensed groggily, curling in on herself and tugging the covers up over her head. Usually she loved mornings, but something was off about this. Too much noise for her room at this hour. Somewhere, things were being tossed into a bag. Too loud for clothes or even toiletries. Not someone packing. Trash into a garbage bag, maybe. That sounded right, cleanup after an epic party.

God, it was loud, the clanking and shattering of glass bottles, the crushing of soda cans. Something that could've been a pizza box being folded and shoved in amongst the rest of it. Something being shaken out and dumped, banged against a wall. A door opened and shut, floorboards creaked.

Jesus, where the hell _was_ she? Asleep in her dressing-room or something?

No, that couldn't be right. The boys would have come and gotten her before she'd been out too long backstage. Not to mention, no performance last night. What the hell was going on? Was it Robb and Ned? What the hell could those two be up-?

But then the aroma of coffee hit her, strong and insistent, and she could hear the dripping of a coffee pot, somewhere close. She let out a sleepy, happy little sound. It smelled like heaven, the fog in her head starting to lift a bit just at the fumes. Wherever she was, _someone_ had their priorities straight this morning.

Grumbling a little at the thought of crawling out from the bed when she could happily sleep for a week, Kala forced herself to stretch out, tentatively peeking out from the covers a few minutes later.

The moment she bared her face to discover her surroundings, she couldn't help the happy groan that purred from her throat, eyes closed against the glare. Her surroundings became instantly secondary as sunlight rained down on her like molten gold. Her skin started to tingle instantly where the beams shone in through the window, sweet warmth and happiness sweeping through her as she tilted her face back. A sigh escaped her, and she stretched out even more, reaching above her to work out the kinks in her arms and shoulders, yawning hugely as she basked.

With another happy purr, she rolled over onto her belly and buried her face in the pillow, not caring if the sheet fell and no longer covered her bare back. Everything good in the world was seeping into her bones, taking away the cobwebs bit by bit. Good Lord, had she gone ten rounds with the world's worst thugs last night? She felt sore all over, as if—

 _Oh._

That wasn't the ache of a fight she felt between her thighs; it was the ache of a night well-spent, and it wasn't just there that she felt it. And, now that she was becoming more aware, the reality that the sheet was draped over her decidedly naked body hit her. Her eyes opened wide then, and she turned her head to the side, still dazzled by sunshine and lost in utterly panicked thoughts.

 _This is bad. Oh God, this is bad. Like catastrophic-level bad. Especially with how off things have been with us lately. Oh God, tell me I didn't. Tell me I didn't do something as idiotic as fall myself back in bed with Sebast. Shit, what the hell happened last night…?_

"Coffee?"

For thirty seconds, she stopped breathing in surprise. That … wasn't the voice she'd been expecting. Wincing, Kala slowly opened one eye and then the other at the sound of that voice, peeking out from behind the curtain of her hair. Her heart stuttered for a moment when she realized what had happened. It had been Jay's voice. Holy God, it had been _Jay_ she'd spent the night with _._

It all came rushing back in a hurry then, the fight, his dismissal, the way she'd confronted him, their yelling match … the wall. And the chair. And the bed.

Unable to resist it, a shiver ran down her spine at the memories, phantom sensations roaring over her until she shook her head to banish them. _We … So that really happened ... oh shit_. That had her sitting up in a hurry, automatically tugging the covers back up over her, unable to help the blush that she just knew was creeping up her chest, her neck, and onto her face. And there was Jay, holding out a steaming mug of coffee for her, black, from the smell of it.

Seeing his raised eyebrow, realizing that she'd shaken her head, she gave a nervous little laugh. "Sorry. I mean, umm, yeah," she said, surprised at the way her voice croaked, having the hardest time meeting his eyes. Annnd she'd been screaming, too. From what she remembered from last night, it was no wonder she'd shredded her voice. She was gonna need one heck of a sunbath. But somehow she managed to take the mug with one hand, still holding the covers up, and gave Jay a little smile, still trying to get her bearings in this whole situation. That, of course, didn't mean that she didn't give him a quick once-over as he turned away to pour a cup of coffee for himself.

Jay was still mostly naked, only sporting a pair of black boxer-briefs that didn't leave much to the imagination. Kala tried to ignore the thoughts that beckoned, wrapping both hands around her mug to keep her from doing something even more insane. Obviously last night wasn't quite enough to burn the tension out, she thought, her eyes not missing a detail while he had his back turned. It wasn't fair that he was this ridiculously attractive to her, even like this. Hell, especially like this. His hair was sticking out in all directions, as if he'd stuck his hand in an electrical socket, and his back and shoulders were scratched all to hell, a long patch of bite marks and hickeys all down one side of his neck and his chest.

 _Oh … crap._ Belatedly, Kala realized that those were her own handiwork, ragged marks everywhere she'd put her hands on him and sunk her nails in. She couldn't remember either of them objecting to anything the night before, all heat and desperation and need, but it hurt to look at the marks she'd left in the light of day. Pulling her knees up to her chest then, trying not to dwell on it, she stifled a groan at the sudden intense ache between her thighs as she moved. She could still feel him, even now. Closing her eyes against the images that instantly played in her head, she couldn't hold back a little smile. Okay, so no matter how awkward it could be, it was worth it.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out, she opened her eyes again and forced her gaze away from Jay, as little as she found herself wanting to. Instead, Kala finally glanced around at the infamous apartment she hadn't set foot in before last night's confrontation. Looking around, she realized that all that noise that woke her had been Jay trying to straighten up his little apartment, with 'little' being the operative word; the place was a tiny efficiency, one room divided into a living/sleeping area and a kitchen, with a kitchen island separating them. She could only assume that the narrow doors along the back wall led to the bathroom and a closet. Wow. She wasn't quite sure what she'd expected when she thought about what kind of living space Jay would occupy, but this was smaller all around than what she'd figured. Especially in a building this size. Three cars, a badass bike, the bunker, and he lived in this tiny studio? Something didn't add up.

However, for a closet, the place was pretty well strewn with stuff, proof that a guy with too much going on in his life lived here. A _dirty_ guy, at that. Kala couldn't help smirking a little at that. As if she'd never seen the way a pack of boys lived before. Robb and Ned's apartment in L.A. was probably twice the Hazmat project she was seeing here and Sebast wasn't exactly the world's best housekeeper, if she was honest.

But it was sweet, that he'd try to pick up so she wouldn't see the proof of his bachelorhood. Most guys didn't give that much of a crap.

Leaning back into the light streaming in and letting her gaze drift a little more over the tiny place, Kala finally saw the dents in the wall over by the door. The yellowed plaster was cracked and sunken in several places, obviously from all of the man-handling they'd done and from when she'd slammed her head back against the wall, and … God, there were speckles of blood. Which could only be Jay's.

Another wince and Kala took a long sip of her coffee. Holy … yeah, she needed that. Caffeine was no substitute for a good sunsoak, but she could still feel the effects, the way it permeated her quickly, wakening her nerves one at a time. So many worries, so much up in the air. The only thing that made total sense right now was what was in this mug and what was shining in the window.

"I take it the coffee's not too bad, then?" Jay asked.

Kala looked up at him again, startled right out of those thoughts and into those wolf-blue eyes before thinking about it, and she realized he was watching her from where he'd leaned against the kitchen island. Taking a deep breath, she bit her lower lip, then allowed herself a small laugh. "It's pretty good, yeah. Even without the cream and sugar. Strong. Not as strong as my mom's newsroom brew, but it'll do to blow the dust and shadows out."

Jay smirked back at her then, and for a second, she could swear he was fighting a blush of his own. "Yeah, well, I learned from the best—"

"Alfred," they both said, nodding and breaking into another laugh, which, thankfully, eased up the tension in the room.

Kala just sat there for a moment, staring back at the man across the room for a long moment, not trying to hide it now. Why was she acting like this, like some stupid teenager that didn't know her own mind? She'd had no regrets last night for what they'd done; hell, she'd been more than enthusiastic. And this morning really wasn't any different, she was starting to realize. This was Jay, her trainer, her partner. And nothing had really changed in the last few weeks. What had happened was inevitable, trying to resist it had been like holding back a hurricane.

The rest of the outside world could go hang. Ever since that night on the mats, she'd thought through a thousand versions of what happened. When real life returned to claim her, whatever this was between them hadn't gone away, not even when the tour had kicked off. She'd been able to walk away from flirtations before, but this with Jay … she couldn't explain it. If she hadn't thought so, she would've just walked out of his life last night when he snapped at her, and saved herself the drama.

Except she hadn't. She'd followed him. And now here they were. And to hell with the consequences, she wouldn't feel any regrets.

Finally, she gave him slightly snarky smile, the one she'd been giving him for months. "I know the view's pretty spectacular, but are you just gonna stand there and stare, Red?" she asked with just the lightest amount of teasing, raising an eyebrow. There was no way she'd let him know that she was holding her breath for his answer, hoping that he wouldn't draw away now. "So, are we still friends?"

…

Jay hadn't been up with the sun in fucking years, but somehow, sleeping next to his very own furnace had woken him up early. And _up_ was certainly the right word, ready to go despite three rounds. He was still practically vibrating from the night before, unused to that level of physical exertion outside of a good fight, and the aches in his back and shoulders, the sting of Kala's claw marks on his skin, hurt in all the right ways.

He hadn't been about to start poking Kala to take advantage of the situation, though; that'd be fucking rude. Especially with her sleeping so soundly and looking like a goddamn _angel_ or something in the soft early-morning light, her dark hair splayed out across his pillow like a halo.

So up he'd gotten, slithering gently out of the bed, and hit the john to handle his situation.

Afterward, he snagged a smoke out on the tiny fire escape, and when he came back in, he couldn't help noticing the state of his place with the sunlight hitting it: looked like a bunch of frat boys had had a wild blowout. He only ate and slept here, rarely spending enough time to put any effort into making it comfy, and that showed. Groaning to himself, he got to work straightening up, hoping he'd have the place at least remotely cleaned before Kala woke to catch him, and see just where she'd done all that the night before.

Coffee on, trash out—Jesus fuck, how did he produce so much _crap,_ when he didn't even spend that much time here lately?—and another cig smoked, and Jay had finally sighed in relief when Kala only woke to his offer of a fresh mug of java, and not a moment before.

Their little small talk then only barely registered to him as he watched her drink her coffee, those hazel eyes brightening as she soaked up the light from the window and gradually got caffeinated. The stubble-burn down her neck was disappearing as he watched, sunlight healing it, and _damn_ that got to him. He halfway wanted to just set their mugs aside and kiss her senseless, lay her back down in the bed and … well. There was still the chance that last night was a fluke, that she would come back to her senses and fly off in disgust, and he didn't much feel like chancing it.

And then she said those dreaded words. "So, are we still friends?"

Jay blinked, his brain screeching to a halt. _Friends?_ Fuck, that meant … that last night … that it didn't mean what he was kinda hoping it might. Just one more time he'd gotten in over his head with someone who was looking to scratch an itch, and nothing more. Why the hell was he always this dumb about women?

Clenching his jaw, he took a long drink of his coffee. "Yeah," he said after setting the mug aside, his chest suddenly tight. "Course we are."

But just a glance at her face told Jay that had been the wrong answer. Kala's eyes narrowed then, her expression closing down, and she sat up almost regally, all of the warm and teasing laughter in her seeping away as he watched. That wasn't at all what he'd expected. "Oh," she said, her voice small and controlled. As if she was the one who'd overstepped. "Okay, then. I stand corrected."

No, no, this wasn't going at all the way he'd figured. Maybe he was wrong, maybe it _wasn't_ another case of him being the most convenient option, maybe everything he'd hoped last night was actually the case. His mind spinning, Jay stepped over to the bed while her gaze followed him warily, and he sat down next to Kala, taking her mug and setting it aside. She tried to draw away a little, obviously stung, before he caught her face with both hands and kissed her deeply, as he'd wanted to in the first place.

It seemed like that hit the reset button. The tension seemed to melt out of her body with the kiss, Kala responding back with equal pressure after only a brief pause, and the knot in Jay's chest seemed to untie itself. Holy fuck, _this._ Nothing should feel so damned good as the relief of knowing she was right there on his level.

After a long moment, he drew back, and rested their foreheads together, their breaths mingling. "You're not gettin' rid of me, K," he whispered. "And you'd better not disappear on me like before."

That finally got a smile out of her, and Kala breathed a laugh. "No more ignored texts, I promise."

"Good," he smiled back, pulling back enough to catch her gaze again. Fuck, her _eyes;_ he wanted to fucking drown in them, and it'd be the best death ever. Clearing his throat, he figured that with _that_ established, it was time to talk about the elephant in the room. The one Kala didn't even know about. "Because after last night, not even reading that damn Nevada Protocol I've been whining about since you came to town would keep me away."

Her eyes opened _wide_ , and she pulled back, looking like he'd doused her in ice-water. "You _what?_ " she asked, shocked.

"Read the file. After you threw down Empress-style against Joker, Babs decided I'd seen enough that I should read the strike file." Jay managed not to grit his teeth.

Oh, the narrow-eyed glare he got for that! "Barbara Gordon is _entirely_ too free with whom she shares my personal details," Kala said coldly.

And shit, there it was, she used Babs' full name and constructed that sentence like an English teacher. Jay tipped his head, staring at her, and said, "Hey, K, do me a favor. Say 'fuck', wouldja?"

She looked at him in confusion, but it was warm and _human_ confusion. "I think I said 'fuck' plenty of times last night. Not as many as you, though."

Jay just nodded. "Something to add to the file – you can't swear like a sailor and stay in badass mode. I guess that's easier than calling your dad."

Kala realized what he'd done, snatched up the pillow, and whapped him with it. "You … you obnoxious asshole! _Why_ are all you Bats like this?"

Jay held up an arm to avoid repeating swings of the pillow. "Hey, she should've given it … ow, quit! She shoulda given it to me when I started training you, but everyone agreed I'd have to poke at it. So Babs waited 'til you graduated, and until I already knew _something_ was there."

"And 'poke at it' was what you just did, you nutcase," Kala growled. At least her anger was hot instead of cold.

"Yeah, well, I learned from the Bats. Investigation is a key skill," Jay said with a half shrug. "Also I figure you might be _slightly_ reluctant to laser my face off after last night. Wasn't too shabby, based on the screaming."

For a few seconds, she just glared at him. "You, sir, are fucking impossible."

"No, I'm fucking Supergirl," Jay replied, and grabbed the pillow before she could hit him again. He decided to seal the deal by hugging her close and kissing her again.

Yup, that _definitely_ worked, she practically melted in his arms. Drawing back from the kiss, Kala looked up at him with all that solemn intensity that made his belly flip-flop like a high school boy. "As long as you're sure," she murmured.

"Absolutely. Not going anywhere. Besides, it's not like the file spills all your deep dark secrets," Jay explained. "It just gives an overview of how to tell when you're sliding, and what to do to bring you out. Also what _not_ to do. 'No kryptonite' is like bolded and underlined in three different places."

Her eyes narrowed again. "That's smart," she admitted. "I have issues with kryptonite."

"Yeah, like I have issues with crowbars," Jay snorted. "Relax, K. I'm not here to psychoanalyze you. I hate that shit myself. We both have issues, we both know we have issues, now we both know how not to do a major face-plant into the middle of said issues. So it's good, right?"

"Yeah, Jay, it's good," she relented, and smiled again.

On that note, he stood, taking Kala by the hand and tugging her up with him. "So, breakfast? I don't know about you, but I'm fucking starving."

Kala's left eyebrow raised as she seemed to surreptitiously try to take the sheet with her to cover up with, crossing her arms over her chest once they were up. What was even cuter was the look of dismay that had briefly crossed her face when he didn't give her the chance to grab it. "You have actual food in that fridge?"

Jay smirked back at her, stepping away and over into the kitchen area. "Maybe."

"Oh, this I have to see."

But one peek in the fridge, and he shut the door just as quick. Kala didn't need to know what was actually in there. Or more appropriately, what was _growing_ in there. He turned back to her, momentarily amused to note that she'd draped the sheet around her. Like he hadn't seen and touched and tasted it all last night or something. Stereotypical Super, but she made it adorable.

"Um, how about we throw on some clothes and hit a diner?" he said, feeling sheepish for not even having anything eat here—fuck, he didn't have so much as a box of Corn Pops, and that was just pathetic. "I know a good place that serves up a mean omelet."

Looking at him sideways for a moment, Kala twisted her lips. "Let me guess, nothing but beer and old take-out in there, right?"

Fuck, she was just way too damn shrewd. Jay rubbed the back of his head absently as he leaned back against the counter. "Um, yeah."

But Kala laughed out loud then, honest and ringing. "I'm not surprised, really. Stop looking like an embarrassed kid; it's not like I don't know how guys live, Jay."

And holy fuck, that was a relief, even if it made part of him want to seek out her band mates—the obvious culprits—and flay them all alive for being such jackasses.

"So, um, I'm gonna need some clothes, here," Kala said then, that eyebrow raised again, snapping Jay out of his thoughts.

And oh. Right. When Kala had showed up the night before, all she'd had was her uniform, and that wasn't exactly day-wear. Smirking despite himself—the thought of Kala not wearing anything was entirely too entertaining—Jay peeled himself away from the counter and went to the little plastic hamper in the corner next to his tiny TV, and started digging for something clean that might not look too obvious on her.

At her narrow-eyed look then, he snorted. "Relax, I promise you won't be a fashion disaster. And it won't be the worst walk of shame ever." With that, he pulled out a black tee that was snug on him, and would probably fit Kala okay. Tossing it at her, he waited to see her reaction.

"Oh, shut up, Jaybird. Walk of shame, my ass," she snarked back, catching it easily. Her lips twisted again when she held the tee up, seeing the silver outline of a bat across the chest. "Really? You've gotta be kidding me, Red. Where the hell did you even get this?" she said incredulously.

Jay smirked. "It was a gift from a certain brother of mine. He thought we'd all be adorable in matching touristy Bat tees."

"That explains why it looks brand new and never worn," Kala retorted, looking down at the shirt with clear amusement.

"Too small for me," he said with a shrug. "Either that or Dickie-Bird just wants to see my manly biceps bulging out of a tight shirt."

That brought the skeptical look back as she slowly looked up from the shirt, and then apparently decided he was kidding and broke into chuckles. Yeah, well, what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. "Okay, okay, enough about you and The King of Pretty. I don't know if I can stand it. So what're we going to do for pants, Jay? Got any skinny jeans lying around?"

"I might," he replied, trying to think what was lurking in the back of his closet. There might be a skirt in there, come to think, but he'd better not tell her it was probably Donna's. Rose hadn't been much of one for skirts, but he might actually have a pair of her jeans with just one knife-mark in them.

That last remark had Kala looking totally perplexed, and Jay smirked. Wait 'til she found out some of the stuff Robins had to wear on undercover stakeouts. Before he could say anything, though, her cell phone rang. It was still in her uniform, which had ended up crumpled against the wall when Jay threw it, and he fetched it for her since it looked like she wasn't planning on running anywhere all wrapped up in his sheets. It ought to be criminal to have a body like that and _not_ show it off when you could…

It was only then that he noticed the look on her face as she whipped out her phone and answered it. Kala had gone completely pale, her eyes wide, and her whole body radiating panic when she gestured at him for silence before she spoke. "'Lo?" she mumbled into the phone, sounding exaggeratedly sleepy.

Jay didn't hear the other half of the conversation, but watching her face was entertainment enough. _Busted, obviously_. He just hoped that wasn't her dad calling. He wasn't quite ready to die yet.

…

Morning-after breakfast with Jay sounded like a damn good idea. Maybe it'd help clear away the last of this awkwardness between them—as if she hadn't seen the smirk on Jay's face when he realized she'd covered up. Baring all in the throes of passion was one thing, but standing buck naked in the morning light was something else entirely. Regardless of how much he might appreciate the view.

But then her phone went off, with Morgan's ringtone, and Kala's blood turned to ice with the sound of it. She'd known she was on borrowed time as soon as she'd first felt the sun on her skin, but she hadn't been able to make herself think about it. And that might just end up being her undoing. _Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, ohshitoshitohshit. How late is it? His windows face north, I never felt the sun come up. How screwed am I?_ Kala tried to sound sleepy when she answered, hoping against hope that Morgan calling meant the band hadn't realized she wasn't in her room. She'd find a way to deal with Sebast when she had to, but there had to be an out here that might help.

His first words were both a relief and a shock. "Hey, I'm not surprised that Sebast hasn't rolled back in before breakfast—we all know he was out whoring last night—but you're _never_ this late. Wake up and get your ass down here before Robb cleans out the buffet, okay, diva?"

He must have called Sebast's phone first and not reach him to know something like that. "Wha' time is it?" she groaned at him, trying not to think about the fact that Sebast not coming home meant he'd stayed the night with someone else. And that almost never happened, at least not until this tour. It was lucky for her this time around, since, as it turned out, she hadn't come home either, but still, she couldn't help being concerned. He was _really_ stepping up his hookup game lately.

"Try an hour before rehearsal," Morgan shot back.

 _Oh fuck. Oh, fucking hell._ When did it get this late? Rehearsal was at noon, so … holy hell, it was almost _eleven_ already. _Damn!_ "Mm'kay, I'm awake now," she said, trying to figure out the logistics of how the hell she was going to get back into her hotel room with none of them knowing she'd never been in it. And a shower, she was going to need a shower, because she surely smelled like all kinds of hot, wicked sex. "I'll be down in half an hour. Tell Robb to slow down and save me some waffles, okay?"

"Will do, boss," Morgan said, and hung up, leaving Kala with dead air. Closing her eyes for a minute, Kala shut off her phone and took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. She could do this. They were none the wiser and Sebast wouldn't be an issue, thank God. They'd never know she'd been talking to Morgan from Gotham this morning and not from her and Sebast's suite in downtown Toronto. All would be well.

But then she had to face Jay. He already looked skeptical when she opened her eyes and looked at him, and Kala hated leaving like this all the more for that look. _Hated_ it. Just when they'd halfway gotten things right. And any explanation she tried to make was going to sound asinine, since she'd completely forgotten about her schedule for the day in the heat of the moment.

In the end she kissed him, hard, wrapping both arms around him and letting the sheets slither down her body—to hell with it, she decided, why not give him something to tide him over?

"So, your real life called?" he said when she let him come up for air. The note of disappointment in his voice was painful in the extreme, and Kala couldn't help a small wince.

But she stayed where she was, her head leaned against his and her arms around him. She just didn't want to go. Not yet. What she really wanted to do was go to the damn diner with him instead of eating at the hotel's breakfast buffet with the band, but what choice did she have? "Yeah," she said at last. "I gotta be at rehearsal in an hour and onstage tonight, and I can't let the boys know I flew out the window and haven't been in my own bed. Last thing I need is Sebast coming in the room to hurry me up and finding out I'm not there."

"Fuck, guess I shouldn't have let you sleep in," Jay groaned quietly. "And I get it. You gotta go. Just…"

Kala pulled back to look up at him, pouting slightly and hoping he could see in her expression how torn up she was about it. There just wasn't another option this morning. "I don't _wanna_ go, Jay. But I _have_ to."

His arms tightened around her for a moment. "You'll be back sometime?" His voice was studiedly casual, as if it meant nothing, but Kala felt the tension in his arms and knew better.

"This isn't the last time you'll ever see me, Jay. I'll be back in Gotham as soon as I can slip away again," she promised, and kissed him again, cupping his cheek.

"Good," he said, fixing her with a pointed gaze. "'Cuz I'm thinkin' we need to team up a lot more often. Give 'World's Finest' a whole new meaning. Red and Black, the new face of the Supers and Bats. Whaddaya think?"

Kala couldn't help a tiny laugh, her chest aching that he'd even suggest a long-term partnership. The very idea of it … it made her ache for it in all the best ways, and yet, she knew that it was gonna be hard enough getting back to Gotham for more than a few hours a week, at most. Returning Jay's gaze, she smirked. "I think you're incorrigible," she said, before losing her grip on the facade, her smile falling. "I'll do my best to get back soon. But I just gotta run now, okay?"

"Yeah," he said, nodding slightly, his arms slipping from around her. "Better scram already. I'm not gonna be the one who ruins your reputation, superstar," he told her with a barely-there smirk.

"You never could," she replied, completely serious. And then she stepped back from him, getting ready to blur into her costume, throw the t-shirt on top just in case she was spotted. One thing was missing though. "Where the hell are my panties?"

Jay didn't even look embarrassed. "Well, they're somewhere by the door, but I don't think you can wear 'em."

It took a moment for that memory to come back. Cold metal against her skin, still by the door. _Oh_. Facepalming, she laughed at herself. "Shit, that's right. You cut them. Dammit, Jay, I'm gonna have to wash my uniform when I get back, too. The whole thing reeks of sex," she said, sniffing the suit cautiously and giving Jay a side-eye.

He just shrugged. "Be glad it's not rubber, or you'd never get the smell out."

"Oh my _God_ , you are _no_ help, Jay," she groaned, still laughing, and got dressed with super-speed. One last kiss, one last admonishing, "Try not to get shot while I'm gone, and I'll text you later if I can." Then she was living up to her name, out the window to the fire escape and into the air before Jay had fully registered it. Flying fast, her mind locked into her goal, and finding herself hoping Sebast was still in someone else's bed at the moment. It was a jarring transition of frame of mind, but like her whole last-minute flight back, she just didn't have a choice.

She made it into the hotel room with Sebast still not in residence, and dove straight into the shower on coming in, giving the suit a rinse as she peeled it off under running water. It'd have to be hidden, but she had a secret compartment in her garment bag for just that, thank goodness. Within the half-hour she'd promised Morgan, Kala was walking downstairs to the hotel lobby, makeup and hair perfect, hoping she didn't look like someone who'd been up all night having sex. She didn't think she had any hickies or other marks left after flying through sunlight, but just in case, she was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, with her hair pulled down. There hadn't been time for a proper sunsoak, as it was, so that would have to wait until later, at least to get her voice back in full working order.

And her timing couldn't have been luckier. Sebast walked into the lobby mere moments after she'd taken her seat next to Morgan, and _he_ looked like hell. His hair was all mussed, his shirt and pants had clearly been balled up somewhere and only halfheartedly shaken out, and he looked as though he'd never slept. She wasn't able to completely hold back her wince; it was a rare thing to see him so obviously wrecked. "Oh my God, you look like overnight sex death," she exclaimed as he strolled across the lobby toward her.

"I _feel_ like I got blown by a rainbow of Technicolor sex," he said, stopping behind her chair and trying to hug her.

Kala dodged, scrunching down in her chair and swatting at him. Not only was he gross, but she _really_ didn't need him nuzzling her when her nerves were still on red alert. "I take that back. You look more like you slept in a gutter. A gutter outside a brothel. Sebast, you stink of sex funk and man sweat." Never mind that she'd only just showered herself off moments ago.

"I know. It's the smell of success," he said huskily, and caught hold of her long enough to rub his stubbly chin against her cheek. The echoes to last night just continued, unfortunately.

"Then I wanna be a loser. Sebast, _get off_ _!_ Go take a shower and scrape your face! You haven't been this much a mess since I went to Greece that once," Kala complained.

Sebast gave her a hungover grin. "Trust me, _mamita_ , I couldn't get off now if I tried. He was _way_ too happy to be in bed with a rock star, and wanted me to know. That, and I'm too chill from the pot."

Kala wrinkled her nose at him. "You're outrageous. Since when do you smoke out and roll home this late? You know that shit kills brain cells if you smoke enough of it – I need a co-singer, not a stoned P.R. specialist. Does that at least explain the way you smell?" She was being a bit of a hypocrite, of course; she'd had her own high last night with Jay, and just because it was entirely natural didn't make it any less addictive.

"Seriously, Sebast, you look like an alcoholic hobo in some rock star's old clothes," Morgan said. "And it's your fault Kala overslept, too. Please, go get cleaned up and sobered up with some coffee. Come back when you look like yourself again."

Sebast glared at Morgan, affronted, but too hungover to have a good comeback.

 _Oh, the hypocrisy. Please, God, I'll never do this again, or at least I'll figure out a better way to get around things._ "Shoo, Chupi. I love you. I better never catch you taking that mess again. For real. Now go get cleaned up, _please_. You're making me sad." With that, she started eating her waffle and flatly ignored him. Maybe then he'd get the point.

Sebast looked over at Robb and Ned for support. In unison, both of them held up their cutlery in the shapes of crosses. "Well, fuck you guys," Sebast laughed. "It was worth it. You hear me? _It was worth it_. He was magnificent. He was almost as gorgeous as I am, and he had a dick like a goddamn stallion. Good thing I had my tonsils out when I was a kid."

Kala elbowed him in the gut without even looking up, ignoring the urge to knock him on his over-sharing ass. " _Go get cleaned up_. There are other people around, for God's sake! Stop showing out for company, _querido._ This is gonna wind up on the front page of the _Inquirer_ if you keep bellowing across the lobby, you jackass. You know, big tour? Name in lights. Not going to make me _or_ the label happy, trust me. _Shower_. _Now_. Sweat it out, and come back clean and sober."

That finally shooed him off, and then all Kala had to deal with was the shivers he'd started up by nuzzling at her, and the ache still echoing in her core. While Morgan, Robb, and Ned indulged in speculation about just what the hell Sebast had been up to, she quickly pulled out her phone beneath the table and sent a text to Jay while no one was looking. At least he wouldn't be able to say she wasn't keeping her promise.

…

Left alone in his little crap apartment, the window open and a nice breeze rushing in, in Kala's wake, Jay just blinked.

Alone.

 _Fuck. So much for a nice fucking breakfast,_ he groaned to himself, pushing a hand through his hair. For fuck's sake, Kala hadn't even had time to finish her damn coffee. It might as well have been 'wham, bam, thank you, man', with how fast she'd flown off.

But Jay shook himself out of that line of thought, recognizing it for the self-defeating paranoia it was. Blame that on the Pit, too. Kala had looked awful guilty about it, clearly not _wanting_ to leave. She just had a day job, unlike his sorry ass, and when the tour called, she couldn't very well not be there. His mind kinda spun just thinking about it, massive set-up with a dozen roadies, enormous speakers, light show, thousands of adoring fans.

Jesus, he was fucking a bonafide rock star. Wasn't _that_ just a kick in the head?

But again, he forced himself to come to his senses. Kala was gone for the time being … maybe for good, maybe not … and Jay was still fucking starving. All that sex really took it out of a guy, and he felt like he could eat a fucking horse. He'd really wanted to take Kala down to the little diner on the corner of the next block over—all the wait staff and cooks knew him on sight, he ate there so damn much—but that didn't mean he couldn't just go on and have a late breakfast on his own. Maybe a long fucking walk after would help him clear his damn head, too.

Throwing on the nearest set of clothes he could grab that weren't filthy, he got dressed quick, pulled on a pair of heavy boots and his jacket, and hit the sidewalk. At least the air outside was fresh—or what passed for fresh in Gotham—helping to clear out a few cobwebs. It was damn late, judging by the angles of the city's shadows, and the streets were starting to fill up with lunch rush traffic. Not too much in this part of town, but enough that he still had to watch where he was going as he turned the corner to head down to the diner. A few people dodged, mostly working stiffs, jeans and work-boots type people, and Jay couldn't help the feeling that everyone was staring at him.

It was seriously weird.

Finally hitting the diner, he caught his reflection in the glass of the door on his way in; hair sticking up everywhere, bags under his eyes, his t-shirt on backwards beneath his open jacket, tag sticking out and all, and … and a nice swath of red on one side of his neck, a trail of hickeys and bite marks. Motherfucker, he looked like … like how he felt, completely wrung out from a long night.

After staring at his reflection for a long moment, he laughed to himself, despite feeling like a moron for heading out looking like he'd just come back from the same frat party that had apparently destroyed his apartment. Inside at last, and he found his usual booth, running his hands through his hair again to try to get it to cooperate at least a little.

"Well, well. You look like you got hit by a bus in the middle of one hell of a walk of shame."

Jay winced at the greeting from the waitress, a matronly woman in her fifties who had a bad habit of scolding him when he came in looking like hell. "Hey, Mary," he said, trying to smile past the feeling of utter despair sitting in his chest at the moment. "Can I get some coffee and your kitchen sink omelet?"

"Sure thing, sugar," she said, scrawling down his order on her little pad and giving him a wink as she stepped away to go put in his order.

Christ, they'd been joking about _Kala_ doing the walk of shame, but here Jay was doing one of his own. And what the hell was this _embarrassment_ bullshit trying to crawl up from his spleen to settle in his chest? Maybe Kala was rubbing off on him, all that good-girl crap that she'd probably deny forever, turning him into a total pile of goo. A fucking conscience about relationships was the last thing Jay needed; it was bad enough he'd been forced to grow one about killing.

But then his coffee came, with another of Mary's all-knowing looks, and his omelet soon after, and Jay shoved the insane cycle of 'what-the-fuck' to the back of his brain. The only important thing right now was that he hadn't been wrong about Kala, that she'd wanted him as much as he'd wanted her, and that last night had been fan-freakin'-tastic. And even if Kala didn't get back to him any time soon, he'd at least have had that.

Oh man, Dick was gonna give him hell now, he was sure—

His phone vibrated inside his jacket pocket then, and Jay just knew it'd be Golden Boy, ready to commence with the teasing—because there was no doubt that all of Gotham would know by now, if he knew his family half as well as he thought he did—but then one look at the display told him that it was a text. From Kala.

Holy fuck, she _was_ keeping her word about texting him back. Would wonders never cease?

Opening the message, he read it quickly: _Back half an hour and it's Total Drama Island. All of them are hopeless without me. Miss you already._

Something in Jay's chest did a little flip, for which he silently chided himself, and he laughed around a mouthful of heavenly omelet. Typing quick, he sent her a message back: _Hopeless without you here. Didn't tell me I had a hickey the size of Texas._

Sent, and it was just a few moments before his phone vibrated again.

This time, Kala's message read: _You know I'm cute like that. ;) Looks good on you._

Oh, really? Well, two could play at that game. _Keeping your panties, K. You're cute without 'em._

Another back, and Jay nearly spit out his breakfast: _My business to always be cute, panties or no panties. Sometimes less. Nothing new there. Feel free to add them to your collection until I get back, stalker._

Hot damn, but Kala never failed to amaze him. Who knew that even her _texting_ could be so damn dirty? Shaking his head, he sent back: _Will do. Good luck with the tour, Princess. And when you're back, WF 2.0 is a go._

A long moment passed before the next back, and Jay groaned to himself as soon as he read it: _Thanks. Gonna need it, at this rate. And if I get my way, *maybe* outside your dreams. XOXO, Big Bad. Miss me a little?_

And well. That about summed it up; after all they'd been through in just a few months, there was no way he wouldn't keep trying to get her back here as his official partner, even if only on her nights off from the bright lights. Laughing to himself, Jay sent back: _Always. See you later, K_ , and stashed his phone in his jacket.

Maybe later he'd text her again. Just to keep her on her toes. But for now, he had a breakfast to finish, and really needed to get home and shower before his brothers started calling to give him grief. This time he laughed aloud, ignoring the looks he got from other customers and from Mary.

Who knew today was gonna turn out this crazy, and in the good way for once? Fuck, but he was loving it.


	48. Act Five: For What I've Done

Oracle was monitoring a relatively quiet night, by Gotham standards. Oh, they had the usual assortments of carjackings, muggings, drug deals, domestic violence, and gang conflicts, but that was just background chatter. The kinds of things she watched for—asylum or prison breakouts, any activity from the city's major players—weren't on the menu for tonight. "Slow night," Dinah remarked, setting a cup of coffee beside her.

"Don't say that, you'll jinx it," Babs warned, sipping the coffee. And then, as if Dinah _had_ jinxed it, the secure inbound line beeped. Babs picked up the connection on the speakers. "Oracle here."

The voice was one they knew well. "Hey O, I told the boys I was sneaking away for a spa night. It's been a rough week. Think you can set me up with some R&R, our style?"

"Can do, Blur. Come by HQ first, we need to have a face-to-face before you go on rounds." Babs smiled. She really did need to talk to Kala, and it was always nice to have her particular brand of sunshine around the place, but she also intended to yank her chain a little.

Kala's silvery laughter rang from the speakers. "Oh, God, Mom, what am I grounded for?"

"Just come in," Babs said, letting the smile reach her tone. "We need to go over a few things."

"Sure thing, O. ETA ten minutes."

With that the connection broke, and Dinah groaned. "I'm out."

Babs turned to look at her. "You're not going to stay for this?"

The blonde huffed. "Please, Babs. I'm not sticking around while you troll her. I'd never be able to look her in the face again."

"If you must, then," Babs sighed.

Dinah dropped a kiss on her hair. "Have fun. I'll take the uptown swath, see if I can find a jewel thief or something to beat up."

Babs glanced at her roster and smiled. "Expect some company shortly."

Once Dinah was gone, she made the call that rearranged patrols, making room for Kala. The girl walked in only eight minutes after she signed off, already in uniform and clearly spoiling for a fight. "So what's shaking?" she asked, eyes bright.

Any of the boys would've fled from the smile Babs gave her. Kala, however, still didn't know the difference between her teasing grin and her about-to-give-someone-hell grin. It wouldn't have mattered now; in this case, there wasn't much difference. "Have a seat. We need to go over procedure for a moment."

"Procedure? Didn't we cover at that months ago?" Kala playfully complained, but she pulled up a chair anyway. "Whatever it is, I didn't do it. Unless I was supposed to do it, in which case I did."

Babs half-turned from her bank of screens, propping one elbow on the back of the chair with a slight smirk. "Well, the thing is, you _didn't_ do it, Blur. The question is, what didn't you do?"

The girl bit her lip. "Send you a card for Administrative Professionals Day?"

Green eyes narrowed slightly as Babs fought the urge to smile. Kala had that effect on everyone. "I accept cards and gifts on Bosses' Day only. No, this is a procedural issue. Everyone needs a refresher from time to time, though, so don't feel too bad."

Kala still looked baffled, so Babs relented. Another time she would've made the girl figure out what she'd done wrong, but this wasn't that time. "When you came to check in with Batman, you never checked in with _me_. I had no idea you were even in the city, much less that you went out on patrol. And I _know_ you know better than to think you could patrol without me finding out."

"I didn't mean to go on patrol," Kala replied with a wince. "I just wanted to check in on Hood, you know, considering the Joker situation. And I sorta saw that going down, and jumped in without thinking."

"Which wouldn't have been a problem if you'd followed procedure to sign in and sign out whenever you come to town. Remember that in the future, please." She could afford to be gentle; Kala knew the rules and generally obeyed them better than the boys did. Which Babs was about to illustrate for her, and get in her evening's entertainment at the same time. Kala could handle taking a little teasing.

"Yes, ma'am." Kala did a contrite look very well, but there was a gleam of mirth in her eyes. She had an excellent rapport with the Birds in general, and with Babs in particular. Babs herself couldn't help being protective; Kala might not be wearing the Batgirl uniform, but she was still the girl fighting in the midst of all those Robins. Like Cass and Steph before her, Kala had a special place under Babs' sheltering wing.

But Babs wasn't quite done with her yet, and being protective didn't mean passing up an opportunity to illustrate a point. "I'll let it pass this time, but I can't allow it to become a habit. I've had problems recently with experienced personnel who _should_ know better. Just for example, here, this is what happens when people go offline and don't tell me about it. I'll tell you ahead of time that everything ended well, but … you'll see."

She pressed a few buttons and called up a history screen. "Look there, a week or so ago I had an alert on Comm Four. All the comms feed location and biometrics back here continuously, and the alert popped up in response to elevated pulse. All the comms also have sensors that register impact, and we've got a couple of short impacts showing here too. If you saw that onscreen and knew Comm Four was covering a high-risk sector, what would you assume?"

"That somebody was in a fight and I ought to send backup," Kala responded quickly. She didn't know which comm that was or who carried it, but it didn't matter. The conclusions were the same, and for now Kala would probably assume Babs was protecting the identity of the person who'd screwed up.

"Exactly what I assumed. But then all the biometric readings abruptly cut off while I was pinpointing the location of the comm." The alerts that triggered rolled across the screen for Kala's benefit.

"Oh shit. That's bad news." The girl bit her lip with worry. She knew that no one had been hurt recently, but she was caught up in the scenario Babs was showing her.

"Exactly. This comm is one of the ones built into the dominos, so it _could_ just mean someone's mask got ripped off in a fight. But that's only the best scenario for a sudden cessation of vital signs. There are plenty of worse explanations."

"So what do you do when something like that happens?" Kala asked.

"I need to send backup, but I don't want to send them into mortal danger without knowing what's going on. So I remotely activate the comm's audio feed."

Kala blinked. "I didn't know you could do that."

"Oh, I have complete control of every comm's feeds from here," Babs said sweetly. "If anyone is ever incapacitated, I can pick up their audio or visual and find out what's going on."

"Huh. I never realized that. Makes good sense, though."

Babs smiled. "Glad you agree. Batman was _not_ happy to realize the feed in his cowl works both ways, but Alfred sided with me. Now, when I punched up the audio from Comm Four, this is what I heard." With that she pressed play on the saved track, and watched the screen with absolutely no expression on her face.

The familiar metallic sound of a zipper, first. Then a low, heated moan, and rustling fabric accompanied by a crooning sound of pleasure. Faint thumps, a frustrated growl, the _thunk_ of something hitting the floor, and then a masculine laugh. Gasping, the slap of skin on skin, more clothes being moved, and a long, hungry moan.

Babs kept her face carefully neutral. Kala was blushing, first her cheeks turning red before the color marched down her neck and up her temples. "Um … okay, so we know what's going on. Yeah, whoever's comm that is should've really gone offline before getting their freak on. But I _really_ don't wanna listen to Dick hook up…."

Pressing the pause button, Babs said, "We don't actually know what's going on yet. From what I've shown you so far, this could very well be someone falling victim to Poison Ivy. Although she's not known for taking advantage as much as for bewitching people, it would be just like her to distract a team by infecting them with sex pollen."

Kala winced. "I always thought the sex pollen thing was a Batclan in-joke."

"It's not. And it's not fun, either. Personally I prefer the exotic hallucinogens and poisons. Anyway, I needed to know who exactly this was, since Comm Four wasn't partnered that night, and if this was consensual. Ivy isn't the only one who can control others' minds, after all." With that, Babs pressed play again, and more moaning filled the speakers. She managed to keep her expression neutral, as if she heard this sort of thing all the time—which, honestly, she heard more of it than she would've liked. But this one was worth it.

Kala slunk down in her seat, looking thoroughly embarrassed on behalf of whoever's hookup she thought she was listening to. Babs tried not to smirk, waiting for the payoff. Any moment now…

Fifteen seconds later, a sharper gasp was followed by an urgent cry. " _Jay!_ " And again, a second later, "Jay, _please_." Kala sat bolt upright in her chair, eyes wide with stark horror. She might not have recognized the breathy noises and moans played back on a recording, but she damn sure knew her own voice when it was articulate.

Babs could've stopped it then, but let it play through until Jay's husky voice identified her. _Then_ she stopped the recording and turned to look at Kala, who'd covered her face with her hands. Babs just waited for the girl to compose herself enough to peer out from between her fingers, and then finally put her hands down. By then Babs herself had fought down the urge to snicker at her discomfiture. This wasn't just about trolling Kala, although it _had_ been the perfect illustration of why everyone ought to sign in and out.

Kala took a deep breath. "Okay. Point made. Because both of us didn't follow procedure, _you_ ended up with a sex tape. I won't make _that_ mistake again, and neither will he."

Relaxing now that they were off of official topics, Babs said in a softer voice, "All right then. Procedural issues aside, please tell me that you _do_ have an idea what you're getting involved with?" Normally she didn't interfere in the others' relationships, but this was Kala. She was a Super, she was new to the game, and she was known for _not_ getting involved with other capes. This wasn't dipping her toe into the superhero dating game, this was doing a cannonball into the deep end.

Her cheeks were flushed, but Kala wouldn't look away. "I … know about Jay. Trust me. He's the poster boy for issues, but … I'm not exactly perfect, either. I think we both can hear that I obviously didn't accidentally fall over him in the dark." That was delivered hesitantly, but it wasn't the fact of being with Jay that embarrassed her. It was knowing someone had been listening.

"All right then. You're an adult, so is he, and if that crinkling noise is what I think it is, you used protection." Kala groaned and hid her face again, so Babs let herself smile slightly. "No one else will hear about this from me, Kala. The boys have no idea, so far. But I'm _not_ the only one who can access the comm feeds, so be more careful in the future."

"Trust me, I will," the girl muttered.

"And be careful with _him_ ," Babs warned. "Don't break his heart, Kala. He's had it rough recently, and his relationship history is … not the best."

"I didn't think I _could_ break his heart," she finally said, blushing even more brightly.

"Trust me, it's easier than he wants anyone to think," Babs said, but that was all of his secrets she intended to give away for the night. Changing her tone and the topic, she continued, "I'd have Jay in here listening to this to make a point to him, but for one, he wouldn't be embarrassed. And two, I'll cut him some slack since it was his birthday."

Kala gasped, staring at her wide-eyed. That seemed to bring even more heat to her cheeks. "It was his _birthday_? How come no one told _me_?!"

So Kala really hadn't known? Poor kid. No wonder she was nearly squirming with embarrassment. Babs decided to back off even more. "Probably because you were onstage when they were serving cake. Honestly I think everyone forgot that you didn't already know. Anyway, you got him a present—and you even wrapped it."

That got another groan. "Oh my God, Babs, shut up! Stop trolling, you're evil!" In spite of her embarrassment, Kala was laughing.

Babs laughed softly with her. "It could've been worse. I've been known to interrupt people in compromising situations. Especially if they're not careful about where the cameras are."

"Evil. You. Definition of." Kala pointed an accusing finger, then softened, still blushing. "You promise you won't tell anyone? Not even Bruce?"

"Absolutely not. It's your life. I'm the last one who could criticize who you sleep with. And it's not information that anyone else _needs_ to know."

Kala still looked at her warily, then extended her hand. "Pinky swear?"

Babs smiled and looped her pinky finger through Kala's. "Pinky swear, I won't tell." Besides, she didn't have to tell Kala that when this had originally happened, she'd called Dinah over to try and figure out who the voice belonged to. It would be better if Kala didn't know the Chairwoman of the JLA had been listening in to the live feed, too—albeit with a horrified expression. It had been even worse when she'd recognized Superman's daughter, which was why Dinah wasn't here right now.

At least Kala looked relieved. Before any kind of awkward conversation could start up, Babs said casually, "If we're done here, I'm sending you to the Bowery with Dick."

Kala blinked; that was Jay's territory, and she'd clearly been expecting to go see him. But Babs didn't want her distracted by hormones even on a quiet night. Let this between her and Jay settle, and then they could patrol together again. For now, she might as well refresh her memories of working with the rest of the team.

…

The whole way out to the Bowery, Kala was still trying to internalize the fact that she and Jay had been busted by Babs. How had they managed to slip up that badly that quickly?

The answer was easy: they hadn't tried as hard to hide it as they thought. They had argued publicly, likely in view of Oracle's cameras, which Babs had been kind enough to not show her as to not prepare her for the lesson she intended. Jay had left rounds at rapid speed, with her only moments behind him. And when she had assumed he had called in on the way back to his apartment, he obviously hadn't. Once she had arrived behind him, any part of the outside world had been forgotten as tensions boiled to the surface.

Kala felt like a stupid kid. She knew the way things worked around here, she knew the protocols. God, that was a rookie mistake. A rookie mistake that had netted she and Jay a porn track in O's database. Where it would likely live forever with the way that woman hoarded information. Not that Babs would use it lightly. No, no. Kala's awareness of its existence was enough.

It wasn't that she was ashamed of that night, far from it, but the thought that there was audio out there of her having some seriously insane sex with Jay didn't exactly sit well with her. And, yeah, to be honest, there was the chance that somehow, someway, her father would find out she had been _that_ indiscreet. Or her twin, in that case. She tried not to think about it. The mere possibility freaked her something fierce.

Nearly to the Bowery, she shook her head. Enough of that. Freaked or not, she had to realize that it had been a lapse in sense and move on. She knew better now that Big Sister was always watching, or listening at the very least, so she would stick to the rules. Babs wouldn't tell the rest of Batclan and that was honestly what she cared about the most.

Making herself think of something else, it caught her mind next that Babs had said that it had been Jay's birthday. That floored her. In everything that had happened, why hadn't he said something? She hadn't had the slightest clue then why he had been furious with her, but she thought maybe she was starting to get it now. With the way Jay had been trying to make his way back into the family, feeling more than a little overwhelmed at times, it was no wonder she'd found him in a fight that night. It had to have thrown him off, nothing making sense all of a sudden. And then the whole mess with the two of them and the voicemail…

But thinking about the latter half of the evening, she had to hold back a little smile. Maybe, just maybe, she'd made things a little better. At least the texts coming from Jay had sounded so. They had been sending short messages when they could, randomly, but Jay hadn't talked too much about the way things had been at home. Maybe Dick could enlighten her a little on that.

With that in mind, the thoughts that had been tripping through her mind ever since that night with the Joker were coming back now. Jason's comments on Gotham during that long-ago lockdown. Echoes of the stories Tim had told her, a little of the truth as he knew it; mostly his own perceptions, she believed. Remembering the look on Jay's face when she'd woken to the knife at her throat, the mix of fury and terror on his features. So many demons he was still facing, that he'd tried to hide before. It wasn't her place to try to fix it. But if they were going to be close at all, she needed to understand it. And she had a sneaking suspicion that Jay wouldn't do that without a fight. Maybe now was the time to know what she was dealing with, even if he wouldn't tell her. Especially if she had no intentions of pulling a U-turn at this point.

And maybe, just maybe, Dick might just be willing to shed some light on quite a few things.

…

Babs was up to something. Dick had been unceremoniously shifted down to the Bowery, and Jay had been swapped uptown with Dinah. Sometimes Babs would do things like that just to make sure that everyone worked well with everyone else, and all of them stayed familiar with all the various patrol areas. More often she had a reason, and Dick suspected this was one of _those_ times. Especially since she'd promised him help and hadn't told him who was coming.

Helena? No, he had no beef with Helena. And he couldn't think of anyone else Babs could be trolling him with. Maybe he wasn't the one getting her wrath—maybe Jay had done something to deserve a slow patrol uptown under the eyes of the Chairwoman of the League.

His comm beeped then. "Heads-up, Wing. Blur incoming." He'd no sooner heard the words than she was landing beside him, careful of her footing on the crumbling rooftop.

"Well, hey, Blur," he said, grinning. "Nice to see you."

Her relieved sigh made him laugh. From the look on her face, she hadn't been expecting this kind of reception. What had gotten into her to think that, when it had been two weeks? Had she expected them not to welcome her back? Then the smile, flashing white teeth against the lilac of her lipstick. How could you not return it twofold when it was that color? "Hey, you. Got a few hours away. And nice to finally be back," she replied. "What've we got so far?"

"Stakeout on this warehouse. Might be a meth lab, or something more exotic. If it _is_ a lab, they're not cooking right now. So what brings you to our fair city?"

Kala grinned at him ruefully while she crossed her arms. "Well, I just wanted a nice relaxing night of beating up bad guys, but that time I came to check in with B, I forgot to tell O I was in town at all, much less sign in and out like a good little soldier. So I got my ass chewed. Should have expected it, I guess. It was stupid, really, and I knew better. Better believe I won't be doing _that_ again."

That got him laughing. They could multitask, chat _and_ watch the warehouse. "Lucky you have any ass left. Trust me, I know how O is about protocol. So, where's the rest of your crew think you are?"

It was her turn to laugh, her eyes sparkling as she loosened up. She looked like a kid, delighted in keeping a secret. He doubted she knew how cute she looked when she did that. "At the spa, getting the full treatment to soothe my shattered nerves. I really gotta do something about my nails before I get in. Someone's going to have to have a stop-over before heading home."

Dick had to hold in his mirth again; he would've given away his position to anyone within a block. They settled in to watch, quiet for a moment, and then Kala smirked a little, not looking at him. "So I hear J's birthday just passed. I was told that Alfred made cake that I missed."

Groaning, Dick slapped his forehead. "And no one told you until after the fact. Sorry. That's my fault. I should've called you, but I forgot you didn't already know. Yeah, it was his birthday. I thought he was gonna run for the hills when we brought out the cake."

Another smirk from Kala, the light in her eyes dancing all the more. Someone must have razzed her about it already, although it was obvious that it wasn't Jay himself by what she said next. "It's fine. I'll deal with the fallout," she muttered, Dick knowing her well enough to know she was just jerking his chain. "But now he's probably pissed at me because I didn't get him a present. You know how sensitive he can be over stuff like that."

Dick shrugged. "Send him a belated one and blame me for not telling you."

True to his suspicions, Kala tilted her head at him, shaking her head a little. "Oh, stop it, Wing. You have enough to keep up with, with him back in the house. And if I know Red, he probably didn't even notice I wasn't there. And, like it or not, I probably couldn't have made it to the party anyway. Things are constantly up in the air for me right now. I'll have to find some way to make it up. Maybe pick him up some motorcycle polish and some new chamois or something." Her lips quirked then, but it faded slowly. That caught his attention. Kala was rarely quiet and moody in his presence; there had to be something other than being taken to task and too-late knowledge of Jay's birthday.

Kala stayed silent for a while as they kept vigil, her furrowed brow making it clear she was considering something at length before she spoke again. "Before I even say this, I know this is none of my business. I'm not still his student and … he'd probably be pissed that I'm nosing into his life. But since you obviously _have_ seen him lately, I gotta ask: is he okay? I mean really okay after all of that with you-know-who?"

That was a good one. Jay seemed almost _too_ good since they last faced Joker, like he hadn't processed it at all. And he'd been even more upbeat since his birthday. "Yeah, I think so. He's splitting his time between the apartment and the Roost, but it's not drama. He looks good, he acts like he's all right. I haven't caught him drinking like he usually does, either."

That earned him a sigh of relief, Kala actually closing her eyes as she did it. "That's good to know, after seeing him the other night. I … I worry about him, D."

"Honey, we all worry about him," Dick laughed softly. He thought he'd cheer up his little brother with this news later. Jay might've missed seeing Kala tonight, but at least he'd know she was asking after him. Maybe they weren't Meant-to-Be, but she did actually care for him.

After another brief silence, Kala spoke in a soft, tentative voice. "So, look. I know I don't have any right to ask, but I was there. I saw him when he realized we were in the building with Joker. I have to know … he's told me some, but not all. Wing, I need to understand what was going on back then so I know what to expect. It obviously still affects him pretty strongly and I want to be able to minimize what I can if that happens again. It's not just me fishing for information for no good reason, I promise. What really happened?"

Oh, crap. That was exactly what he should've expected a nervous Super to ask as she was getting close with someone whose past had some pretty big blanks in it. And yeah, of course he was going to fill her in as best he could. "Well, none of us know everything. The explosion destroyed a lot of evidence. And a lot of leads disappeared after the fact, which probably has something to do with him getting tangled up with Ra's al Ghul. What we _do_ know is that he was beaten very badly, and then left beside a bomb. With his biological mother, whom he'd never met before. Somehow the blast didn't kill him, but it did kill his mom. He couldn't save her."

Kala sucked in a deep breath, looking as if she'd been dealt a physical blow, and Dick continued quietly, "We're not sure exactly what happened from there. The evidence pointed to him being dead, and we didn't know where his body was. Maybe … we thought maybe he was close enough to the bomb that nothing was left. We found most of his bloodied uniform, and…" _And an ear,_ he should've said, but he had to stop. Dick had been torn apart by grief at that loss. So had Bruce, but Bruce had shown it by going out on the street and putting a bunch of bad guys in the hospital. Dick had wept for the boy who'd _never_ gotten a fair break.

Kala touched his arm lightly, looking to him with troubled eyes. He was pretty sure she at least had an idea of what he was feeling. She'd gotten pretty close to losing a brother right before her eyes once. "It was rough, K. Really rough. The next time we saw him was years later, and by then he was Red Hood."

She bit her lip, even more hesitant. "I kinda remember that. That was a while back. I went and peeled Spoiler off his trail when she was heading out to kill him for putting Robin in the hospital. But, Wing, tell me something. Does he … tell me he knows you guys freaked out after the explosion? Did anyone tell him what that did to all of you?"

"I…" Dick trailed off. "Shit. I don't even know if he knows or not. I think we were too busy trying not to let him kick our asses to tell him we missed him. He _should_ know by now, but I bet he doesn't. Hell, come to think of it, that's probably half his issue. I have no idea what he knew about what was going on with us while he was away. See, to him it looked like … well, like he'd been replaced. Out with the old, in with the new. By the time he got back, he was only sure of two things. Batman let Joker live after basically killing him, and he had a new Robin."

"I know you guys aren't too much on feelings, but maybe someone should tell him. Not that he'll act like it's a big deal, but he deserves to know that, don't you think?" Kala stared out at the dark, empty warehouse for long moments. He saw a couple of emotions flit across her face before she found her voice again. "Was … D, was he really crazy when he came back?"

It hurt to answer, but she needed to know. Most of this stuff was a matter of record, and it was better that she knew he hadn't been in his right mind. "Yeah, K, he was. _Really_ crazy, like sociopathic trying-to-murder-Robin-and-Batman crazy. Like he took over the drug trade by calling a meeting and tossing a duffel bag full of the drug lords' lieutenants' _heads_ onto the table, type of crazy."

She had sat there looking thoughtful as he spoke, but Kala winced at that last. Took a deep breath and let it out, but never spoke. He wasn't sure what she had expected the truth to be, but it looked hard on her nonetheless. Dick rubbed her shoulder gently. "None of us know everything that happened to make him that way, K. He doesn't talk about it. We _do_ know who had him part of the time he was gone, you were there for that conversation, and it goes a long way to explaining why he came back crazy."

Her large eyes flicked up to him then, dread creeping into a gaze already full of conflicts. "Ra's al Ghul," she muttered. "And the original Big Bad Guy's Evil Daughter."

Dick couldn't help a little snort at that. "It'd be just like them to turn Jay into a killer. Neither of them turn a hair at leaving a body count."

It heartened him to see that Kala looked just as stony with anger as Dick felt. "But why? Other than the extremely brief explanation by Jay, Ra's is one of the ones nobody ever talks about. I get the whole assassin, mercenary angle. But what the hell is his deal? What does he _want?_ "

Trying to sort out how to explain _that_ one was troublesome. Finally, Dick said, "He's more environmentalist than Ivy. He thinks there are way too many people around, we're destroying the planet, and the best thing we can do for the Earth is reduce the human population by 80 percent or so."

At his words, Kala shuddered. Hard. The blood drained from her face even as he watched. Dick caught her elbow, worried, and she just gave him a wan smile. In that moment, she looked too much like a scared kid. "Sorry. It just … kinda sounds like someone I used to know."

 _Zod. Shit, didn't mean to remind her of that._ "Yeah, well, Ra's has tried to wipe Gotham off the map before—says the city's diseased, and what we're doing only prolongs the misery for the people who live here. Better to cleanse the place, burn out the rot, and start anew. Never mind how many millions of innocent lives he'd destroy in the process."

"And someone with a mindset like _that_ had hold of J when he was severely screwed up. Yeah, this is sounding a lot like what you said J tried to do when he first came back. Except he never killed the innocent."

Dick hated to qualify that for her, but she was Jay's protégé and his friend. She deserved the truth. "He might not've killed innocents, but he never classified capes as innocents, K. He was perfectly willing to target any of us that stood in his way."

Again that silent pause, that furrowed brow. No questions for another three minutes. "So what made him stop, Wing?" she asked softly. "It had to have stopped a while ago or you guys wouldn't have let him near the Roost. Or near me at all. I haven't seen any of it personally, so what put on the brakes on it finally?"

Bruce wouldn't have told her any of this, but Dick would, and she knew it. Bruce would kick his ass for saying this, and so would Jay, come to think of it, but Kala wouldn't gossip. And she needed to know. "He tried to force a showdown. Him, Batman, and Joker. Tried to make Batman kill _him_ , or let him kill Joker. And Batman won. He stopped J from killing Joker without killing him. And then they all almost died because J had the place rigged to blow. After that … J disappeared for a while. I don't even know exactly what happened."

Dick looked out over the city, his eyes seeing a different time. It had been harder not knowing where Jay was or what he was doing or if he was ever going to be all right again. "When he actually turned back up on the scene, he still wasn't living by the code, but he wasn't wantonly killing either. And … it's not like we could really stop him. Not without … well. I think B tried to tell him he could come home—I know I did, more than once—and O wound up just gathering him into the fold whether he liked it or not. But he was on the fringe of everything until you showed up."

Kala looked at him then with another one of those complex looks. "And he only did that because he thought I was a danger to myself and to you guys. He really thought the lot of you were crazy for letting me be there. He's told me more than once that all he wanted was to drive me out of Gotham. He only gave me a chance because he was trying to keep everyone safe in his own way, whether he ever just told us that or not. After all of that, he's managed to get himself back into one workable piece." A bitter little laugh then, Kala biting her lip. "Hell, he's doing it better than me sometimes."

Dick tugged at her hair affectionately. "You do a pretty good job, K. And I bet he's glad you were too stubborn to be run off. If for no other reason, then for Alfred's birthday cake." Jay might've told himself he'd only come back into the fold to train the wildcard Super, but Dick knew he was happier being one of the team—one of the _family_ —again. The sheepish grin when he'd eaten the first forkful of birthday cake said it all.

In a small voice, Kala replied. "Yeah, but … I think of all three of you, you're the only one who knows exactly what I'm capable of, Wing. I don't think he realizes I could be more of a danger to him than he could be to me." Again that sad smile.

"Then he wasn't paying attention when you broke his nose," Dick said matter-of-factly, and Kala turned to him with wide eyes.

"That's not what I meant," she whispered. "I doubt B even warned him before he took me on. I saw his face when I went all Empress that night. He didn't know any of it, did he?"

Dick sighed. He'd told Jay some of it, of course, and he was pretty sure Babs had told him more with that weird request to look at something on the Bat computer. "Look, Kala … I gave him the bare bones when he asked me afterward. Nothing he couldn't get from newspapers and police reports, if he looked hard enough. But I told him he had to ask _you_ if he wanted details. The point is, you're not some out-of-control sociopath, K. He didn't need to be warned. Bruce and Babs have your file, they're the ones who decided not to let him see it. Hell, _I_ haven't read the file, I just know from having been there and keeping my ears open."

Protocol be damned, Dick tugged her into a reassuring hug. He remembered Nevada; he'd seen the recordings from inside the facility, heard from those who were at ground zero. This sweet, funny little girl had turned killer once. But then, all of them had raised that particular cup to their lips at least once. Some had put it down without drinking; some had had it knocked from their hands before they could sip; some had sipped and then put it down for good; and at least one had not only drunk but _bathed_ in it, and still managed to put it aside and come back sane later on.

Keeping his voice low and steady, Dick told her, "You've got it under control, K. And if you ever lose it, we'll be around to bring you back to Earth. So will your family. The whole point of coming to Gotham was so you wouldn't be afraid of the dark anymore, right? It's never the dark outside that you have to face down—it's the dark inside, and trust me, you're not the only one who has it."

Kala looked up at him so trustingly. "Promise me. If I start to go off the rails…."

"We'll rein you in. I promise."

She nodded slowly, only looking at him. And then after a moment, she added, "Do me a favor? Please, D? Remember that for _him_ , too. He's been through a lot already."

Dick couldn't help giving her a quick kiss on the hair. "Trust me, we're never letting him fall off the wagon, either." And he would definitely have to let Jay know that Kala cared about him—although he'd never tell his little brother just how forthcoming he'd been with her. Jay hated other people talking about him, but sometimes comparing notes was the only way to figure him out.

Kala looked like she might've said something else, but she suddenly went alert, looking down. Dick followed her gaze and saw three men walking toward their warehouse. It took a moment as she pushed all of her scattered emotions aside, seeming to bury the ghosts that had been circling her. After a deep breath, her sunny smile reappeared. "Enough of the maudlin crap. Looks like we have company, dear," Kala said, pulling away to kiss him quickly on the nose, adding with a whisper. "And thank you."

"You're welcome. Let's get to it, then," Dick said cheerfully, and both of them put personal things aside to focus on the mission.

…

"I have no idea why I listen to you, O," Jay grumbled into his comm.

"Because Oracle knows best. And you know it, too. Oracle knows _everything_." Babs' digitized voice sounded especially smug this evening.

"Bite me. Why the hell did you send me uptown? This sector is _boring_." Jay couldn't help complaining. Babs didn't often send him out of his sector, and he felt antsy not knowing what was going on down there.

Also, he hadn't heard from Kala today. Her band didn't have a show tonight—yeah, he checked their tour schedule, so what?—and he would've hoped he'd get a text or _something_. But tonight, radio silence. Maybe she was just wrapped up in that pack of boys she ran with. At least _his_ pack of brothers hadn't heard the news, somehow, so he wasn't getting any bullshit for finally bagging the Super. And he intended to _keep_ it that way, thank you very much.

Jay just missed her. Not in that stupid, pining, can't-live-without-you way. He missed fighting beside her, missed seeing her goofy grin. Missed her perfect skin under his hands.

"Quit sighing. You're depressing me." That was Black Canary, giving him a _look_. And why the hell had Babs sent him uptown with _her_ girl, anyway? Not that anyone should really think of the Chairwoman of the JLA as someone's girl, but still.

"I was not sighing," he shot back.

She just smirked. "You were. You were sighing like a lovesick teenage girl at a Bieber concert. Knock it off, you're scaring me, Hood."

"Look, it's not my fault you pissed off the little woman and got sent out with me," he snapped. And then flinched inwardly. He really shouldn't let his mouth run ahead of his brain, especially when he was feeling antsy.

To his immense surprise, Dinah laughed. "What makes you think I'm the one who pissed her off? Maybe _you_ got onto Oracle's shit list and being sent out with me is your penance."

Well, he'd started off being an asshole, he might as well finish the same way. Maybe if he was lucky Dinah'd throw a punch, and he could at least see some kind of fighting tonight. "Oh yeah, sending me out with a hot blonde in fishnets is such torture. I'll make sure I never ever piss her off again. Noooo, Br'er Fox—I mean Oracle—don't throw me in that brier-patch!"

"Damn, J, I knew you had a thing for older women after Donna, but this is a little much," she taunted right back. "By the way, the whole defensive deflecting thing? You're good at it, but I basically raised a bunch of Arrows, so it doesn't work on me."

Oh hell. He should've seen it. Babs was trolling him, Dinah was laughing at him—what dumbass thing had he done recently? "Fine. I get it. What did I do?"

"I can't be _certain_ , but if you think you're being punished, _maybe_ it has something to do with breaking off patrol early and going home without telling O. The only reason you haven't gotten an ass-chewing is because it was your birthday."

Jesus fuck on a tricycle. He'd never signed out. He'd gone off home, pissed at Kala, and then she followed him, and then … oh, shit. _He'd never signed out._ The only question now was, how much did they know?

While he was frozen, trying to figure out how to work out what Dinah knew and what Babs knew and just how deep the shit he was in actually _was_ , Dinah rapped the top of his helmet with her fist. "Settle down, Hood. You've only got to deal with her screwing with your patrols. Be glad you didn't get an Oracle lecture for it. She's murder on protocol, and you know it."

That … sounded like neither of them had any idea what he'd really been doing. Or who, for that matter. Seeing a glimmer of hope, Jay lunged toward it. "Yeah, well, I was kinda off-kilter. Not that long ago I wasn't sure I was welcome in town, and then Alfred baked me a cake. Kinda screws with a guy's head."

"Your whole family screws with _everyone's_ heads," Dinah told him. "But I get it. And you should've expected cake from Alfred. You're one of his boys and always will be. Trust me, I understand that feeling."

Jay was trying to figure out what to say to that when his comm beeped and Oracle's digitized voice sounded in his ear. "Jewelry store alarm, five blocks north."

"Hell yeah, we're getting some action tonight," he laughed, relieved at being able to go do something relaxing.

Behind him, Dinah seemed to be choking back laughter, but Jay didn't need to know why.

…

At the end of patrol, Kala had to leave in a hurry. She had to do her nails before being seen by the band, to keep up the fiction of having been in a spa. At least she was nicely relaxed and energized after a few simple fights and some banter with Dick Grayson. Then again, bantering with Dick cured a lot of ills.

She found herself with time on her hands as the boys were late getting in, and sent a text to Jay. _Missed you tonight. Ended up in the Bowery with D. Saw your neighborhood, but not you._

Barely a minute later, the reply came in. _What? No one told me you were here._

That was no surprise, Kala thought with a rueful laugh. _O stands for Original Troll_ , she texted back. _Where'd she send you?_

 _Uptown w her girl. Boring. The singer thinks it's cuz I didn't log out._

 _Makes sense. I got dragged into principal's office for not checking in._

A few moments passed, and Kala figured they were both realizing just how much Babs had blocked them that night. Hopefully she'd had her revenge now. And then Jay sent another message. _Dammit she's harsh. Pissed she kept you from me over stupid shit._

Well, that wasn't the whole reason, Kala thought with a little laugh. _It's not stupid shit. I wasn't talking bout tonight._

 _What then?_

 _Your birthday. Which I didn't know was your birthday._

 _Oh. I liked the present anyway._

Kala groaned, imagining his evil grin. She felt less bad about telling him now. _Yeah well, cuz I didn't check in & you didn't check out, now she has an audio file of me. SINGING._

It took Jay a few seconds to work that out. _HOLY FUCKING SHIT._

 _Yeah,_ was the only answer she sent.

 _How the FUCK?!_

 _Activated your line when we dropped it._

 _Goddamn fucking nosy troll._

He had a point, but so did Babs. Neither of them had been right in the head that night. And with the cases Jay was working on right now, the family was watching closely. _Our own fault. Should have thought of that. O more worried about procedure than us._

 _Typical O,_ was the reply.

Kala wasn't quite sure how to read that, and after biting her lip for a moment, sent another message. _Still want me around even though we're busted?_

Jay sent a message back quickly enough to make her grin. _Fuck yeah. So what if O knows? She knows everybody's secrets. Hasn't told the guys. Not cool with her splitting us up though._

Kala only sent back, _Good to hear. I'll see you next time._ She didn't want to sound _too_ affectionate. This was Jay, after all.

His reply to that wouldn't have its full meaning until the next time Kala saw Babs. _Oh, you will_.

…

"Seriously, Babs?" That was Jay's voice at the door, pissed off and bellowing about it. She'd known he was on his way to Clock Tower—had expected the two lovebirds to compare notes and find out about her interference—and pretended to ignore him as he stomped into the room.

"Nice work with the jewel thief," Babs said as he stormed up to her. "You didn't even break anything."

"Yeah, I was disappointed when he pissed himself at the sight of me," Jay snapped, leaning against the table to get into her line of sight. "What the fuck was up with tonight?"

"What do you mean?" Babs asked calmly, looking up at him. She'd long ago gotten used to the fact that most people were going to look down at her. These days it was an advantage. Some fool tried to lean over and intimidate her, he'd just make it that much easier for her to knock him out.

Jay huffed an irritated breath. "You damn well know what I mean. Sending me uptown, showing off your latest acquisition to Kala and then sending her to _my_ beat with Dickie-Bird."

Babs swiveled the chair so she could face him directly. "I needed to speak to her about protocol. She's better than the rest of you; I can't let you heathens teach her bad habits."

"Dammit, Babs," Jay growled. "I don't get to see my protege hardly at all as it is. The one night she's in town, you split us up and never even tell me she's here? That's fucking cold."

The redhead smiled. _You poor boy. You're infatuated with her and you won't even admit it._ "The last time she was in town, you wound up leaving rounds without checking out, and I had to hear the two of you when I was making sure you hadn't gotten captured. Forgive me for not wanting a repeat performance."

He scoffed, glowering. "Yeah, right. Must've been a horrible experience for you to keep the recording and play it back for Kala. Getting your perv on, Babs?"

She only laughed, and pressed one key. While he'd been blustering in, she'd cued up the recording to exactly the necessary point. From the speakers came Jay's own voice, harsh and breathless. "Fuck, so _hot_ , so fucking hot, Kala," he panted, and then Babs cut it off.

To her surprise, Jay blushed crimson. "You got a point, or just trolling?"

"You used her name," Babs said sweetly. "A name that is not exactly common, I might add. In the wrong hands that recording could expose her identity, and possibly yours as well. Luckily for you, your nickname could be a shortened version of a lot of names, so you _might_ get away with it."

"Yeah, but the only person listening in was _you_ ," Jay pointed out.

Not entirely true, but she wasn't going to tell either of them that Dinah had heard it. "And until I recognized her voice I had no idea you hadn't stumbled into Poison Ivy. Or any of the others who can control minds. Besides, you did all this within range of a comm that was still active on the boards. If anyone hacked Clock Tower…"

"Yeah right, like anyone could get through your security," Jay complained.

It was highly unlikely, but not impossible, and she glared at him. "If anyone hacked my systems, they'd have that for ammunition. And it all could've been avoided if you had just signed out." With that Babs smiled again, the grin that most people thought was charming and a little sarcastic, maybe. Batclan knew it for an expression predatory as a shark's.

"You and your fuckin' protocol," Jay snarled.

Before he could continue, she managed to interject, "Maybe we _should_ have a fucking protocol, it might cut down on interpersonal problems."

Jay leaned into her space, incensed. "Don't be cute. Y'know I never had any goddamn problems when I was running this shit solo."

"Except having to stitch _yourself_ up all the time, and always watching your own back as much as you were watching the target. The lone wolf is always lean and hungry, Jay. And _alone_. You mean to tell me things are worse now, with access to my intel, Bruce's tech, and Alfred's cooking?"

There was no answer to that, just Jay looking stubbornly angry. Babs added, "Or are you just pissed because you think I'm going to try and stop you from knocking boots with the Super?"

"Like you could," Jay spat.

That was unexpected, and showed more of how he felt than he probably realized. "I could make life difficult for you," Babs pointed out. "But I won't. Jay, you idiot, haven't you realized yet that I like seeing you happy?"

And now she'd crossed his wires so much that Jay could only leaned back and blink. "Then why the fuck did you troll us both?"

"So no _other_ busybodies get into it. Like, say, Tim. Who is her brother's best friend, remember. If her family doesn't already know every detail of her business, they shouldn't hear it from us. Don't you agree?"

At that, Jay fell silent, all but shuffling his feet. Babs managed not to laugh at him. She was in the enviable position of having seen both of them do that awkward little dance regarding each other, and apparently neither Jay nor Kala knew how bad the other had it. She could intervene … but it was probably best to let them sort it out. Babs herself had never liked others interfering in her relationships; no matter how well-intentioned, such things tended to backfire. Who knew, maybe this could work out for the best all on its own.

Evidently Jay was still uncertain, because he sighed heavily. "Fine. I'll be a good little soldier and remember to report in to Mother Hen. You can be the ultimate know-it-all troll, as long as you don't fuck this up for me anymore. Deal?"

"Deal," Babs said, offering him her hand.

Jay took it, but before he shook, he added, "And don't tell anybody. Especially Dick or Dinah or Bruce. Okay?"

"Absolutely. My lips are sealed," Babs promised, not bothering to mention to him that it was too late regarding Dinah. At least she knew _that_ wouldn't come back to haunt them, Dinah not being inclined to gossip.

"Good," Jay said, and shook her hand.

…

Once he was home and got his head clear—Babs was the queen of the mind-fuck—Jay sent Kala a text. _Spoke to Big Sister who watches all. Coast is clear from now on._

It took a little while for her to answer, probably busy somewhere. _You talked to O? Seriously?_

His reply was perhaps a little biased. _Yeah, had to get in her face, but she's gonna back off. Least we can work together now._

This time, Kala responded quickly. _Good. I miss hanging w you. You always take me to the best places & we meet the most interesting people._

 _That_ was laying the sarcasm on thick, and Jay snorted amusement. _And then usually we kick their asses, but everyone needs a hobby. See you when you get a chance, Princess._

She must've been typing at super-speed, shooting back an answer in mere seconds. _Yeah right. Call me that again & see where it gets you, Jaybird._

With any luck it might get him in bed with her again—or another broken nose. The uncertainty was part of what he liked about Kala. Jay smirked, and let it go for the moment.

But then the phone buzzed. _Miss you too. Jerk._

Most of the people who met Jay would never have believed the broad and honest grin on his face when he read that.


	49. Blood On My Name

Kala had assumed, with Babs' promise to stop interfering, that she'd see Jay again in a few days. They had tour dates all down the East Coast, she could pick a night when they didn't have to perform the next day and sneak out for a little fun. It should've been _easy_.

 _Which just goes to show what happens when you assume,_ Kala thought ruefully.

It was two in the morning – a good time for her to show up and close out rounds in Gotham – and she wasn't going anywhere. Because instead of selecting from the buffet of men he seemed to find everywhere, Sebast was curled up behind her, snoring. Both of them were still damp from the post-concert shower, which they'd shared, Sebast barging in a little too casually. "If I smell my own sweat another second, I'm gonna jump in the hotel pool and drown myself," he'd laughed.

Kala had _not_ yelped; it was far from the first time they'd shared a shower, but things were _weird_ after Gotham. _He_ was weird. She kept catching Sebast staring at her with a thoughtful look in his eye, he'd asked her one too many times what had changed since Gotham, and now he was actually _foregoing groupie sex_ to snuggle with her.

Surely, the end times were nigh.

Realistically, she should've known that she couldn't hide changes this fundamental from him. Over the summer, she'd committed to being a hero again, and trained as one. No matter how good her civilian disguise was, Sebast just knew her too damned well not to pick up on both the omissions and the additions.

And if he knew, he was a target.

Bad enough that Luthor knew who she was. Kala always scanned the audience, expecting to see him or one of his flunkies in the crowd some night, just a cheerful little reminder that one of her family's deadliest foes knew exactly how to find her, any time he wanted. She wouldn't subject Sebast to any more of that, if she could help it.

That left her stuck in the hotel room, unable to sneak out to Gotham. Even if Sebast hadn't been trying to turn her into his personal teddy bear, Derek had the unnerving habit of walking up and down the hallway at random hours of the night. Kala wondered when the man ever _slept_ , and what the hell his problem actually was. They weren't children – and hell, her parents had trusted her more when she _was_ a kid.

Since tonight was a bust, Kala eased her phone out and sent a quick text to Jay. _Trapped in hotel. Again. Too many eyes._

She was getting drowsy by the time the reply came in. _You're missing all the fun._

Kala rolled her eyes and managed not to groan aloud. _What kind of fun?_

That time, he responded more quickly. _Update on idiot trying to take over from Black Mask. And a nutjob on PCP climbed the GCPD bldg. Naked._

She barely suppressed a snort of laughter. _Oh yeah, sounds delightful._

Jay replied, _Ever try restraining a hopped-up naked guy who thinks he's King Kong? Real fun._ And then, _Thank fuck for tranq darts. I wasn't touchin him._

Smirking, Kala replied, _Least it was safer than our usual night. Naked means no hidden weapons._

 _Oh his weapon wasn't hidden & he wanted to show everybody,_ Jay groused back, and she couldn't stop her shoulders from shaking. Only in Gotham…

She typed back, _With that kind of fun, can't believe I stayed away._

His response was quick. _You got frost-breath? Coulda cooled him down._

 _Nah, that's just my bro,_ she answered. _Still hate missing out. Can't let you hog all the fun._

 _Will save you some crazies,_ Jay texted back. _We have plenty. Gotta go – debrief._

At least they were shutting down early tonight. And at least he was safe. Kala sighed, closing her phone case…

… and tensed as Sebast asked, "Who was that, _mami?_ "

 _Oh fuck. He wasn't asleep … or he woke up while I was trying not to laugh my ass off. Fuck fuck fuck._ She had to think fast; explaining Jay to him would require too many lies.

Besides, what was between her and Jay was _just_ between them. Kala didn't want to share that with anyone else. Not yet.

"Nobody, just browsing," Kala replied, with a yawn. She dropped the phone on the nightstand and shifted to get comfortable.

"You don't type that much when you're browsing," Sebast said, sounding sleepy. His arm around her waist tugged her closer. "You finally find a groupie hot enough to bring home, _mi_ Kala? Or was that Mr. Like-a-Brother Grayson?"

"For all you know it could be my _actual_ brother," Kala groused. It just wasn't the hour to get into this. "Sebast, I never bother you about who you're texting."

"Yeah, 'cause mostly I'm sending shirtless selfies on Grindr," he shot back. "And why would Jase be texting this late?"

"Because his wife's pregnant with twins and he's freaking the fuck out?" Kala said. "I didn't want to wake you, Chupi. Or bother you with baby stuff."

"Hey, I'm gonna be an honorary uncle, aren't I?" he chuckled. "Tell him it's okay, he can't do any worse of a job than the parents of the people we see in the industry. Every-damn-body in LA is _made_ of angst and rebelliousness."

"Except for us," Kala told him, which was something of a lie.

"Which is why we don't live in LA. That shit's contagious." Sebast yawned again, snuggling closer. "Get some sleep, _mami_. Tomorrow's another glorious day on Derek's tour bus."

"Derek's gonna get thrown out a fuckin' window if he doesn't shut up," Kala growled softly, but she managed to get to sleep by remembering that they had a three-day break coming up. And come hell or high water, she was _going_ to see Jay.

…

Talia normally enjoyed Paris, but today she resented it. The city was stifling in August, and even with September only days away, the heat and humidity lingered. She was accustomed to heat, but not this still and stuffy air. Adem, her current lieutenant, had the car's air conditioning running more to dry the air than to cool it as they drove to the apartment owned by their agent.

And the weather was not what she truly resented. If not for one man's stubbornness and another's incompetence, she could have been with her son just now. Instead, her precious few free hours were even more scarce.

"So your trip to Gotham wasn't productive," Adem said. Talia gave him a cool look, and he continued, "I thought you went to head off the situation with Wayne Enterprises trying to take over the Guyot-Perrin contract."

"That was only one of my goals for that trip," Talia informed him. "I did not expect him to yield gracefully. If, indeed, he would listen to reason at all."

"Then why go?" he asked.

"I still believe in at least offering him the opportunity to act in his best interest, even if I know he will not do so," she replied. "At least he cannot say he was not warned."

The real answer – the real _answers_ – were not his concern, and Talia looked out the window rather than follow that line of conversation further. She had taken the trip as an excuse to see Bruce, of course. Despite all they had done to one another over the years, her heart yearned for him. And the sight of him still warmed her all the way to the depths of damned and fractured soul.

She had also gone to see Jason, having heard that he was both back in Gotham and actively working with the Bats. _That_ was somewhat unexpected, but apparently it was Barbara Gordon's hand at work. Talia never underestimated Oracle.

Jason had been at the Manor, and he'd seemed almost panicked by her unexpected appearance. Talia let herself scoff quietly at that. She'd thought, briefly, of dropping by his apartment building and leaving a note on his door, something to inform him that she could find him – and chose not to intercept him, which _should_ have proved that she meant him no harm. The likelihood that he might misread it as a threat, even if she specifically wrote 'I am not your enemy', was too high. Lazarus fever tended to cause lasting paranoia, as she knew all too well.

Besides, she could guess why he seemed so unnerved. If he was on speaking terms with Bruce, then he _hadn't_ informed Bruce of their affair, and likely he did not want Bruce to know. As if _she_ would tell him! Not that Talia felt any guilt for it; if Bruce could bed half the JLA _and_ the damned Cat, she could certainly pursue her own satisfaction wherever she found it. That she'd found it with _him_ was between the two of them alone.

Even in the privacy of her own mind, she would not allow herself to miss Jason. Adem's predecessor had scolded her about being too sentimental where he was concerned, and she did not want her current lieutenant taking up the same tired argument.

At least she knew he was well, and under Alfred Pennyworth's watchful eye. Talia trusted him more than the rest to know if Jason was recovering completely from the Lazarus Pit. She certainly didn't trust Richard to be paying attention. He had evidently followed in Bruce's footsteps until he'd run out of Titans to bed, and begun working on civilians.

Even a _singer,_ this summer. How very quaint. The girl had been pretty enough, she supposed, but Talia had no real opinion of professional musicians. Alfred had been fond of her, and that was the highest character recommendation any civilian could hope to achieve.

She pulled herself out of reverie to glance at the clock. "You're certain of your timing?"

"Have I ever failed you before?" Adem replied, almost sarcastic.

His tone made her raise an eyebrow warningly. "See that you do not," Talia told him. "You know the price of failure."

Chastened, he continued, "He has never been home this early. And I have someone watching his office. We'll have ample warning in case he does break pattern."

Talia nodded, reflecting that she'd have to keep a closer eye on him. Like his predecessor, too much familiarity had eroded the necessary level of respect he should have had for her. It was just as well that their errand would remind him what she was.

Getting into the apartment was a simple matter. No nearby cameras; Talia double-checked even though Adem had reported that fact to her. To anyone watching, they were not in the least suspicious. They were both well-dressed in business attire, they wore dark glasses against the August sun, and Adem had acquired duplicate keys well beforehand. The League of Shadows let its operatives _think_ they acted with minimal oversight, but in cases such as this, it was an illusion.

They both wore gloves, and still, Talia let Adem unlock the door and turn the knob rather than risk leaving any imprint of her own. The apartment was booby-trapped, of course, but they bypassed what was minimal security measures by her standards.

Adem consulted his phone. "He's left the office. Fifteen minutes."

A closer margin than she would've liked, but Talia didn't particularly want to cool her heels in the agent's apartment much longer. She paced through the rooms, furnished in a spare modern style, checking for possible problems and finding none that she couldn't work around.

Ultimately she decided to meet the agent in the living room. There was a large rug which might be an issue, so she positioned herself such that he would step back off of it the moment he saw her. Adem would be just behind the door, cutting off that escape route if their target was foolish enough to run.

She waited in the living room, choosing her spot carefully so that she remained unseen from the windows and the front door. Talia could wait patiently for much longer than she would need to today; however, on this particular errand, she chafed at delay. The sooner this was settled, the sooner she could return home. She was missing _days_ of Damian's training, and his prowess in all areas was her delight.

Keys in the lock, and Talia took a breath, then let it out, quieting her mind. Focus, always, and perfect awareness of the present moment that drove out all hesitation, all distraction. _Focus_.

The agent disarmed his traps, stepped inside, and reset them, all while Adem lurked in the kitchenette unseen. As the man walked further into the apartment, Adem ghosted into the foyer, cutting off his escape. He came into the living room, sorting his mail, and looked up to see his master's daughter standing with her arms crossed, one eyebrow raised.

The envelopes hit the floor, and his shocked expression was plain. "Talia al Ghul," he croaked, and recovered himself. "Pardon me, I was not expecting you."

"Guyot-Perrin is in talks with Wayne Enterprises," Talia said frostily. "Since your presence here was intended to _prevent_ that, you should have expected an accounting."

He took a step back, as she had predicted, and she moved forward correspondingly. "I'm acting to address that," the man said hurriedly. "Wayne Enterprises sent one of their best; he had inside knowledge of the situation, and his proposal was highly competitive."

"You were told to suffer no competition," Talia told him, stalking toward him. "Truthfully, I did not expect such incompetence from you. You have always served us well."

"And I will continue to do so," he replied, holding his ground now. But his eyes would not meet hers for long. "I only need a little time."

"Wayne Enterprises intends to present their counteroffer in two days," Talia said. "How exactly do you plan to rectify that?"

He stammered, his reply vague, and Talia let her cold expression fade to something more mollified. As if such weak excuses carried any weight with her. Worse, his evasions had the flavor of disloyalty; perhaps it was for the best that he'd failed now, at this task, rather than at one more crucial. She let herself sound convinced, however. "Very well then. If you have the situation in hand."

"Oh, I do," he said with obvious relief. "Thank you, I appreciate your generosity."

She smiled, and stepped toward him as if she meant to walk by, clasping his arm briefly. "The Demon is nothing if not just," Talia said.

And as the agent nodded, she surged forward, every muscle engaged, her arm swinging up with the strength of her entire body behind it. Her forearm – not her knuckles, she didn't want boxer's fractures – met his jaw, the force of the blow jarring all the way to her toes, but she was braced for it and he had been relaxing, thinking himself forgiven. His teeth clicked and his head snapped back.

On the return swing from that, she drove the side of her fist into his temple, her offside hand still gripping his arm in case he recovered sense enough to bolt. The second strike concussed him, though he was well-trained enough to retain some balance even as he reeled.

Talia took one more step, putting herself behind and to one side of him, and kicked hard into the back of his knee, simultaneously shoving his arm forward. That drove him to the tile floor, landing unprepared on the point of his jaw. She followed him to the ground, one knee in the center of his back, and gripped his hair, shoving his face hard against the floor.

He was still too stunned to struggle, three blows to the head and face in a matter of seconds. Talia pushed the hand in his hair forward, stretching his neck, and was briefly glad that he'd chosen a short hairstyle. It showed her the anatomical markers clearly, and made it simple for her to plunge her knife between the first vertebra and the skull. A quick twist of the blade, and his spinal cord was severed, his body jerking once under her knee.

She rose from the corpse, sheathed her blade, and looked up to meet Adem's eyes coolly. He had moved forward when she struck the first blow, but the target was dead before he'd closed the distance. Adem stopped, and an expression of surprise crossed his handsome features.

 _Good,_ Talia thought. _Never forget who and what I am. Never forget that the Demon is just – and that justice is not mercy._ "Take care of this," she told him, stepping around the body. "And give me the car keys. I'll handle Wayne Enterprises' representative first, then pay a visit to Guyot-Perrin. They should be told in person, by his successor, that their liaison was called out of the country on a family emergency." She gave a wintry smile at that; they had enough recorded conversations with the agent to splice together messages confirming the cover story, which would further avoid any suspicion. Adem would ensure the body was never found, and this apartment would show no signs of a struggle or forced entry. The only blood shed had already seeped into the collar of the target's shirt.

Adem nodded, recovering his equilibrium. As he handed her the keys, he let his fingers brush hers, and looked into her eyes. "Will I see you tonight?" he asked.

She had just murdered an under-performing agent in front of him, and still he could think of nothing but _that_. Talia truly despaired of men, sometimes. They were so easy to manipulate, and just as soon as she had one trained to serve her, they began to get overly presumptuous. "That depends on how well the CEO of Guyot-Perrin can hold his liquor," Talia replied.

Adem seemed slightly taken aback. "I didn't realize you already had a dinner date. So I shouldn't look for you, then?"

Talia scoffed. "I will have a dinner date within minutes of introducing myself, I'm certain. As to when I plan to be in, I have no intention of letting him think I'm so easily persuaded. Desire makes a better leash than satisfaction, after all."

Her lieutenant nodded, and she took her leave without another word. It would be best to take separate lodgings, and not let Adem forget that he was easily replaceable. The moment he believed he had enough leverage or personal connection to her, he would try to use that – they always did.

And they always paid dearly for it. His predecessor had attempted to come between Talia and her father on business matters, thinking she would not kill a man she'd slept with mere hours before. He learned otherwise.

She hoped, for convenience's sake, that Adem would not have to learn the same fatal lesson. At least, not so soon. One of life's most unerring truths was that good help truly was hard to find.

…

Harley had been staring at the ceiling in profound boredom, wondering when they were going to get on with it already. And as if her thoughts had summoned them, she heard footsteps outside the door. Harley knew not to spring to her feet, but she was antsy enough by now to _want_ to. She settled for sitting upright and attentive on the thin mattress that was her cell's sole furnishing.

The cell door rattled back, disclosing _seven_ security guards. Damn, they must really be rattled if it took seven guys to deal with her. The first two came in with riot shields at the ready in case she rushed them, two more stepped out to flank them with tasers in hand, two more with shackles and cuffs … and one man hanging back calling orders.

Harley complied. They were taking her where she wanted to go, after all, and not even she could improvise a weapon out of a foam mattress. It annoyed her immensely to be forced face-down onto the floor, her wrists cuffed behind her and linked to her shackled ankles, but she let it happen. The longer she played along, the better the payoff in the end.

The men marched her down the cold hallways, every attempt at clinical sterility failing to disguise the damp and chill that invaded the old asylum. Harley pretended docility, noting each turn; she'd been in Arkham enough that she could find her way blindfolded. And that wasn't counting when she'd worked here.

She knew where they were taking her once they turned into the newest wing, and Harley forced herself not to grin. The lights were brighter here, the security measures more up to date, and she let herself be walked down a long corridor to a double-walled plexiglass cube. It had been updated, but they kept it in the same spot relative to the rest of the facility. Unlike many of the cells in Arkham, it was almost spacious – and had special UV lightbulbs that made the cell brighter and warmer than the cold fluorescent ones. It wasn't homey, but for _this_ patient, something like sunlight was a necessity.

Sitting on her bed, reading a book, Poison Ivy looked up at the sound of the guards' booted feet. Harley met her gaze and grinned; Ivy just stared at her flatly.

Dammit, she'd expected at least a _smile_. Maybe the last time she'd busted Mistah J out, she should've made sure Pammy got to come along for the ride.

…

The senior guard barked out orders. "Poison Ivy, go to the rear airlock of your cell. Place your hands against the wall and _do not move_."

She knew the routine, closing her book and getting up resentfully. The cell had two airlocks, one in front by which the orderlies could enter her cell and pass in her meals; one in the back, which was just a blank box into which she was sequestered whenever anyone needed to enter her space. The system was set up in such a way that no one ever needed to breathe the same air as she did.

Never mind that she could, if she chose, concentrate enough volatile airborne toxins onto her skin and leave them on the various surfaces of her cell. They would do their work while she remained in the rear airlock, but she hadn't chosen to go that route yet. Getting out of both airlocks, in a reasonable time frame, was still an issue, and she wouldn't attempt an escape unless she knew it would succeed.

The senior guard kept barking orders that Ivy knew perfectly well from the last dozen times they'd done this. Well, not precisely _this_ , since they hadn't brought her a roommate until this particular visit, and this cell was newly remodeled. But the procedure was the same every time.

They really thought they had her adequately contained. Poor fools.

If she moved from her designated spot, into which she was hermetically sealed, or even removed her hands from the wall, they'd trigger a spray of compressed chloroethane gas from the ceiling. Insidious stuff that chilled her skin and made it hard for her to move or think until she warmed up again – Ivy had experienced it only once, and did not intend to test it again.

Harley beamed at her, ridiculously chipper despite the fact that they were both locked down in Arkham. Again. But then, part of the reason she tolerated Harley was the blonde's ability to make even this captivity marginally better.

The guards all crowded into the front airlock with Harley, and one of them unshackled her ankles. They left her hands cuffed behind her as they opened the inner door and sent her in. There was a small food slot in the airlock door, by which Ivy received her books and meals, and the senior guard was barking at Harley to put her hands through the slot so they could uncuff her.

It was the safest way of doing so, since they had a two-inch-thick pane of durable plexiglass between them and Harley, but Ivy watched carefully. Harley wasn't known for her patience.

The senior guard listed off the prohibitions they both knew by heart. He included the laughable demand for 'no inappropriate conduct', which really, they shouldn't even bother. No one was coming into this cell for anything short of a dire emergency; it was too damned dangerous for them, if Ivy chose not to comply with their orders. And she and Harley had been indulging in all sorts of 'inappropriate conduct' for years, behind bars and out there in Gotham, with no regard for what anyone else thought about it.

As Ivy feared, the situation deteriorated. The cell was small enough, and sound carried well enough, that she could hear the guard who was uncuffing Harley's wrists give a ribald laugh, and mutter, "A least not until we get the webcam installed, girls."

Ivy rolled her eyes. _Men._

Even as the others chuckled at that tired wit, even as the senior guard snarled, Harley was moving. She reached back through the slot, grabbing the guard's hand; he yelped in surprise as she bent his thumb back in a joint lock. Her position, with her back to him, granted little leverage, but Harley was a trained gymnast _before_ she took to fighting Bats on Gotham's streets. She held on, rolling her body forward, yanking his forearm through the slot and pulling the guard face-first into the plexiglass door.

The rest were yelling as Harley righted herself, rolling to one side to make it harder for them to aim a taser through the food slot at her. She still had the rude guard trapped, and now she bent his arm painfully, gripping his hand in both of hers.

He scrabbled, trying to pull back, but now he was the one with no leverage. Ignoring all the rest, Harley focused on him. Ivy didn't need to see her face to know she was grinning; she could hear it in the blonde's voice.

"So you like to watch, do ya, ya sick fuck?" Harley laughed. "That's no fun! Why just watch when you can come in here and _play?_ " She drew out the last word, and leaned in, licking the man's knuckles.

He tried to pull away, the senior guard shouted for backup, and Harley bent his arm further. A little more pressure and she'd separate his elbow, or break his forearm. She crooned, "Come on, big man, come on in here and show us whatcha got."

The guard, bug-eyed with pain and fear, fell to his knees. And Ivy wrinkled her nose in disdain, seeing the dark patch on his slacks and realizing the idiot had pissed himself, too.

Harley laughed and let him go, let him yank his arm back, scooting away from the door on his rump in panicky jerks. The senior guard had his hand on the lock when Harley raised both of hers. "Easy, boys, I didn't hurt 'im much," she chortled, rising to her feet again. "He just needed to learn some manners, is all. No hard feelings?"

Another guard, helping his wounded friend up, just growled, "Why don't we just flood that whole cell with chlorine gas and do the world a favor?"

" _I_ had no part in this," Ivy called out, not mentioning that chlorine gas wouldn't harm either of them. She was immune to most toxins, and she'd rendered Harley immune as well, which not everyone on the Arkham staff realized. She _did_ tell the blonde, "A stunt like that is an excellent way to get sent back to solitary."

"Aww come on, Pammy, he was _rude_ ," she complained. "And look at you, bein' all compliant and stuff. A model patient. You wanna stay here forever?"

"I don't appear to have much choice in the matter," Ivy said. Which was true – she didn't _appear_ to have any choice, but no confinement had successfully held her yet.

And the man whose crude remark had provoked Harley into ill-considered violence was going to die as soon as Ivy was free to make it happen.

The senior guard knew better than to order his men inside to confront Harley. One twisted but unbroken arm and a soiled pair of pants was little enough price to pay for insulting one of the deadliest women in Gotham. The men withdrew, glaring, and let Ivy back into the living space of her own cell on the way.

Harley beamed at her, throwing her arms wide. "Hey, cellie! Didja miss me?"

Ivy rolled her eyes and walked past her to her bed, picking up the book where she'd left off. At the moment, she was in no mood to deal with the blonde, and curled back up with her back against the headboard to resume reading.

Pouting for a moment, Harley trotted to her side, throwing herself down on Ivy's bed, completely ignoring the second bed across the room. She folded her arms atop Ivy's knee, propped up to support the book, and rested her chin on her hands. "Okay, so maybe you didn't miss me, but I missed a lot. Starting with, how long have I been in lockdown?"

"Thirteen days," Ivy told her, still looking at the book. " _He_ got out of intake hold before you did."

"They tried to put me on schizo meds," Harley complained. "Shit, I only said something about voices like _once_ , years ago, and not even _here_. The kids these days don't study their pharmacology."

"Well, you're in with me, and he's in segregation," Ivy continued. Joker was never allowed communal privileges, or given a cellmate. He was simply too damned dangerous. They kept him locked up like an animal, and that was the one situation with which Ivy agreed with the fools in charge of Arkham.

"Who took us down?" Harley said. "They hit me with a tranq dart before I even saw 'em. Batsy's not _that_ fast."

Ivy had been interested in that information, and had put out inquiries. "I hear they were all there, Bats and Birds," she told Harley. "The one who put you down must have been the new girl, Blur. Someone thought to muzzle and hobble the hyenas, and none of the Bats have done that; they rely on tranqs. It had to be her. She lives up to her name, apparently."

"She's gotta be some kinda meta, to be that fast," Harley grumbled. "And smart, too, knowin' how to muzzle a hyena without hurtin' them. She did something to throw the babies off her scent. Speaking of which, are they okay?"

The keeper in charge in them had a longstanding arrangement to send notes on the animals' care to Arkham; the staff allowed it because knowing the hyenas were safe and happy kept Harley a little more tractable. So Ivy had been getting those dispatches as well. "Bud and Lou are fine. The Blur stopped in to check up on them. The usual keeper says they're eating and playing; she'll send photos when the staff will let her."

Harley looked thoughtful. "So the Blur's an animal lover. Huh. All I heard about her was she's running with the Hood."

"He was there, too," Ivy told her. She didn't mention that Joker had come into Arkham _singing_ about the once-dead ex-Robin. And his new girlfriend. _'Dead Bird and Blur, sittin' in a tree, is she smooching that mean zombie?'_ The lyrics had only gotten worse from there, ending in a rather operatic ode to a crowbar that was audible three floors away.

Harley sighed. "These Bats and their buddies are getting too damned good, Pam. Batsy's letting _metas_ play in our sandbox now. And there's too _many_ of 'em all. We really gotta do something."

"We won't be doing anything from in here," Ivy replied, still studying her book, although she hadn't read a line since Harley snuggled up to her.

"Well, I'm sure you have a plan to do something about that," Harley said. "And now you have an accomplice, too. Nobody's ever been able to hold us down for long, have they?"

 _Except Joker. He's held you under his thumb since you_ _ **worked**_ _here,_ Ivy thought, but didn't say. She was very careful about how and when she pointed out the problems in that relationship; Harley reacted unpredictably to such criticism.

It would have been better for everyone if Ivy just killed the bastard. She could do it, she figured. But Joker laughed in her face every chance he got, because he knew as well as she did that Harley would never forgive her for it.

So Joker lived, and every few months while they were free he beat Harley badly enough that she needed to crawl to Ivy to recuperate. And fool that she was, Ivy let it go on. It would've been kinder, in a way, to bar her out; she was enabling the continuation of that twisted relationship, letting Harley survive longer in it. Ivy knew that. But for all her disdain of humankind, she couldn't turn Harley away when the blonde showed up on her doorstep with cracked ribs and black eyes. Or worse, when she landed in the hospital with a crushed larynx and dislocated shoulders.

Ivy nursed her rage at Joker quietly, hoping that one day, Harley would realize she didn't _need_ him. And on that day, they'd kill him. Together.

In the meantime, Harley sighed heavily. "It's inhumane, the way they treat us here," she complained. "I've been on water and soup since I've been in. Nothing that needs cutlery 'cause they're afraid I'll make a shiv. And they won't even give me coffee 'cause they say it messes with the meds. Like you can't just look up the drug interactions online these days. Lazy, I tell you. Look, when we get out, first thing I'm gonna do is steal a Red Bull delivery truck. I am _jonesing_ , Pammy. Too much blood in my caffeine stream."

Ivy sighed, putting her bookmark between the pages and setting the book aside. Creating methylxanthine alkaloid compounds was incredibly simple, for her. And Harley was being exceptionally winsome, looking up at her with mournful under-caffeinated blue eyes. Ivy knew she shouldn't fall for this again – but falling for Harley was all too easy.

She ran a hand through Harley's hair, worn loose since they wouldn't let her have hair ties. Harley closed her eyes with a contented sigh. Just now, despite the fact that they were in a glorified cage surrounded by people who either feared and hated them, or regarded them as interestingly abnormal case studies, she looked content.

"Come here," Ivy said, giving in.

"Isn't that _inappropriate_?" Harley asked, blinking up at her with faux innocence. They had both seen far too much of the world to do more than pretend innocence.

Ivy quirked her lips in a smile. _"_ Come _here,_ " she said again, soft emphasis instead of command, and Harley slid up to kiss her, soft at first and then greedy, and then sinking into Ivy's arms with a happy murmur as the caffeine on her lips worked its magic.

Tomorrow would be soon enough, to plan their escape.

…

Dr. Leslie Thompkins – Doc Leslie, to those who knew her well – stepped off the plane in Gotham while her mind was still in Africa. Not the camp; there were others who could fill her role there, she wasn't as essential to it as she would've liked to think. Her focus, and her worry, was in the northern sweep of the continent, where the girls were now.

Steph had blossomed under her care. Leslie still harbored a core of resentment at Bruce, one she couldn't quite excise, that such a sunny child had so nearly come to a disastrous end. Perhaps it was foolish of her to think that Steph could ever turn her back on the caped crowd, no matter how much she clearly loved the work at the clinic. She and Cass had kept _their_ camp safe, at least.

Their work went much further than the typical voluntourism nonsense of passing out water bottles and antibiotics, taking selfies with refugees. Doc Leslie and the girls sneered at the people who came over for a week or two, knowing it was more about egos than help. But they smiled at their faces and took their donations, because the money still spent no matter how naïve or self-serving the donors were. The UNCHR staff and the community leaders to whom Leslie had reported tended to take the same jaded view. A doctor like Leslie was useful; her girls, with their training, could make themselves useful; but the tourists just got underfoot.

"White savior bullshit," Steph had growled at one batch of college girls taking photos of the kids on the playground, and then gone back to her daily own duties, cleaning up around the clinic, distributing rations, and the hardest work of all by Leslie's estimation, sitting with the women and children who came in dead-eyed from fear and pain, trying to help them find their way through trauma.

Leslie remembered when they'd first arrived, Steph had found her way to a mother awaiting treatment for her injuries. The woman's three children were hungry, exhausted, suspicious of the strange doctors and nurses, and Steph had sat down on the dirt floor at the woman's feet, asking how she could help. She'd ended up with the two-year-old asleep in her lap, the five-year-old teaching her how to play a game, and the mother finally able to nurse her infant.

Cass was good at that, too. Language wasn't a barrier, with English being the country's official language, and all three of them quickly picked up some words in Dinka alongside the pidgin Arabic that served as a second _lingua franca_ among many refugees. But Cass could still see at a glance where someone was hurting, and mold herself to offer just the right support, all without saying a word. Steph learned it too, playing with kids to get their minds off the circumstances, holding women who flinched at the sound of men's voices, sitting up with the sick or the dying. Leslie healed bodies, the girls did their best work with minds and hearts.

She couldn't help worrying about the pair of them, but if she'd done her job right, they were as competent to travel northern Africa as anyone. And she couldn't call them off, not without insulting both of them. Steph and Cass had _chosen_ to go investigate the newest influx of radicals. Leslie couldn't claim that either of them had been pushed into going, the way they'd been pushed into fighting crime. The only thing driving them was their hatred of injustice.

Leslie dragged her mind back to Gotham as she made her way out of the terminal. She'd flown with only her carry-on bag, not wanted to deal with baggage claim. And there, as she came to the wide doors for arrivals, was the car she hadn't expected to see, planning to take a cab.

But the crowd was flowing around the long black limousine parked at the curb, giving idle glances at its driver standing to attention by the door. As Leslie stepped outside, the gentleman in the crisp black suit and old-fashioned driving cap opened the door and held it for her with a courteous bow. "Welcome back to Gotham City, Dr. Thompkins," Alfred said in that delightful accent of his. He took her carry-on and placed it reverentially in the trunk.

"It's a pleasure to return, Mr. Pennyworth," she replied, teasing ever so gently, and won a smile for her effort. The crowd looked at them curiously as she ducked into the car and Alfred closed the door, unaware that those few formal words represented familiar steps in the dignified pavane that was their own particular courting dance.

On the shelf beneath the open window was a vase containing a single, perfect white rose. Leslie plucked it out and held it to her nose, savoring the fragrance; he would not choose a flower for its looks alone. Alfred got into the driver's seat, glancing back at her through the mirror. "I'm afraid the family will not be able to welcome you," he said, turning his attention to traffic before maneuvering the long car away from the curb.

"Oh?" Leslie said, replacing the flower. In a bucket of ice beside her were three bottles of her favorite brand of seltzer water, a selection of her favorite flavors, and beside that was a small tube of her preferred hand cream. Trust Alfred to know how dehydrating a long flight could be, and to think of such practicalities. In its way, those were more romantic than the rose.

He spoke calmly, evenly, in the voice that always meant sanity and order to her. "All of them were at home for Master Jason's birthday celebration, but it appears that was enough togetherness. They have scattered to the winds, I'm sorry to say. Master Richard back to Blüdhaven, Master Jason to his apartment, Master Timothy is with the Titans, and Master Bruce himself undertook some covert mission that absolutely _required_ him to stay in a hotel only a few miles away from the mansion in which he resides."

Leslie chuckled. "Is that so? They've all left you home alone?"

"It appears so, Dr. Thompkins," he replied, and let her glimpse his smile.

"I suppose it's the only way they could make you take a vacation, Mr. Pennyworth," Leslie said playfully.

Alfred so rarely showed a sense of humor, and when he did so it was wonderfully dry, much like the martinis he'd mix for her on occasion. He said only, "Neither of us ever takes a vacation. My work, like your own, is never done. We must take our free time as we find it."

"Indeed," Leslie said, sipping seltzer. "Do you have any plans for the next few days?"

"I had dearly hoped to be entertaining a favorite guest," Alfred said. "A lady of remarkable quality, whose wit and wisdom outshine even her beauty."

"She sounds like quite a catch," Leslie replied, laughter sparkling in her eyes.

"Very much so," Alfred told her. "I believe you know her quite well, Dr. Thompkins."

"I might, at that," she said, and smiled.

As they left the vicinity of the airport, Leslie leaned back in the seat and let herself relax. After a pause, Alfred told her, "You have been deeply missed, Leslie. And not just by myself."

"I'm still angry at your boss, Alfred," she sighed. Dropping titles and surnames meant they were done flirting, for the moment.

"You would not be the only one," he replied sadly. "Miss Barbara was not _entirely_ pleased with his handling of our summer guest. Neither was Master Jason, though I suspect after recent revelations he may agree with Master Bruce's caution."

Leslie had kept in touch, and she nodded. "The summer guest was the Blur, right? I really wanted to meet her someday, but she never stayed in town long enough. Or got hurt badly enough, and for that much I'm grateful."

"Oh, I'm _quite_ certain she will have occasion to return," Alfred told her with a grin.


	50. Snow Queen

**Authors' Note:** Chapters 50 and 51 were originally all one chapter, but it got so long that we broke it in two. We'll be posting 51 soon. Things are getting racy here...

* * *

The family couldn't stay away for more than a handful of days, particularly not with Dr. Thompkins back in town. Master Bruce came home first, trailed by the rest, and Alfred let them all eat dinner in his kitchen so they could fawn over his lady. He noticed the stiffness between Leslie and Master Bruce, of course, but as there was little he could do to relieve it, he simply let it be. They would have to sort out reconciliation between themselves – but as Leslie loved his charge almost as much as he did, Alfred knew forgiveness would eventually be granted.

After all the felicitations and other news had been exchanged, Master Richard fixed Leslie with a bright grin. "Are you going to the masquerade? I think we can wrangle you both some invites."

He asked in vain, and knew it. Alfred did not attend such events as a guest, and the Annual Gotham Masked Ball was the sort of thing he preferred not to attend as staff, either. Too many people in what passed for Gotham's high society were too inclined to take advantage of the semi-anonymity to behave atrociously.

Leslie laughed politely. "I just got home. Let me enjoy it a little while before you try to throw me to the society wolves."

"C'mon, Doc, you'd knock 'em dead," Master Jason said, even though he'd scowled at the mention of the party.

"So would you," Dick said.

Jay looked at him wall-eyed, and Master Bruce spoke up them. "It would be good for you to make a public appearance. We never … you've been officially listed as 'missing' all this time."

"Yeah, thanks for that," Jay replied. "I saw the good doctor's report. If you thought I was dead, why not declare it?"

Sudden silence fell around the table, Master Timothy looking up at Bruce intently. When the eldest finally spoke, his voice was still rough. "At the time … it felt like giving up. We couldn't find any more traces of you. The professional opinion was that you couldn't have survived the blast. But I couldn't … without seeing for myself, I couldn't accept that. Declaring you dead felt too much like closing off the last possible shred of hope." He took a breath, visibly steadying himself, and said in a surer tone, "As it happens, I was right."

"Oh you sanctimonious _twit_ ," Leslie exclaimed. "For the love of God, Bruce, just tell the boy you loved him and it broke your heart to lose him!"

"I just did," Bruce replied.

Jay snorted laughter. "Yeah, that's as close as he gets to feelings. I get it, though."

" _Men_ ," Leslie said threateningly, and Alfred topped up her glass to remind her that some men knew how to express themselves. She nodded to him, and fixed her gaze on Jay again. "You all act like admitting you're family and you love each other would stop you from being _effective_ at fighting crime. Idiots, the lot of you."

Dick raised his hand politely. "I love everyone at the table."

That earned a laugh from all of them, and Leslie reached out to ruffle his hair. "You're the exception to the rule, Dick."

"I agreed with you at the time, Dr. Leslie," Master Timothy said thoughtfully. "It turned out Bruce was right. Little as I like to admit it, he usually is."

"Not always," Leslie said fiercely, but tore her focus away from him to look on Master Jason. Her expression softened when she did, and the young man ducked his head like the child he'd once been. "Don't misunderstand me, I'm _delighted_ to be wrong. I don't care under what circumstances you came back, Jay. I don't care what you did. That you're _alive_ is a miracle to me. _I_ was convinced, seeing what I saw, and I never forgave Bruce for not making it official. For not letting anyone else have closure, because he couldn't bear it."

Master Bruce bore her censure as he bore all things, with granite stoicism. He didn't even respond, Master Jason had to do that, with an awkward shrug. "Really, Doc, I get it. It works out for the best, because now we don't have to pull off a 'return from the dead' spiel."

"Any reporters who looked too closely at the story of the missing Wayne son were politely and firmly redirected," Bruce said, and perhaps only he and Alfred noticed the way Jay tensed at the word 'son'. "I enlisted a little help from Clark Kent and Lois Lane; the unofficial word in the press community was that you'd gone in search of your birth mother, and found her. People could fill in the blanks with a much better story than what actually happened."

Jay took a big gulp from the glass of water he'd been drinking. "Yeah, well, for what it's worth, I'm over it, okay? I'm here, I'm alive, that beats the alternative. But I'm _not_ going the freakin' masquerade just to announce the fact that hey, guess what, kid number two isn't dead after all. Not my scene."

"It was never any of our scene," Tim replied. "We all did it anyway. Part of being a Wayne."

Alfred watched Jay start to sneer, but Dick stepped in then. "You could go because we're going. Brotherly solidarity. You might even have fun."

"Doubt that," Jay shot back.

"You wouldn't have to stay for the entire masquerade," Bruce said, cautiously. "And we wouldn't put you in the spotlight. Just a brief appearance."

Jay looked from one to the other, and Leslie only shrugged, having no opinion on this one. Alfred saw the dilemma in him; he _wanted_ to spend time with his family, but he didn't want to admit to it.

"It might perhaps be a good change of scenery," Alfred offered gently. "And I know the rest of the family would appreciate your support." Never mind that he had ideas of his own in that direction; fitting Jay back into what passed for the normal rhythms of Wayne life would go a long way toward healing the last of the breach between them, and ensuring he did not bolt again.

"Well, since it's you asking," Jay sighed. "The hell, Alfred. Now I gotta figure out a costume."

Dick grinned happily. "Let me spin an idea past you…"

…

Kala's phone chirped, and she glanced at the text message. _I've been bamboozled._

Oh boy, if Jay was being that melodramatic it had to be really good. _What now?_

 _Dinner w Alfred and Leslie and the whole family. Bruce even acted like he has feelings. Film at eleven._ The reply dripped sarcasm.

Leaning back in her seat on the tour bus, Kala typed back, _The End Times are nigh if Uncle Bruce is showing emotion. C'mon, you had meals with family before. I was there._

His response arrived quickly. _Not that. Let them all talk me into going to the big fucking masked charity ball this weekend. Hate this shit._

She couldn't repress a giggle, getting odd looks from Robb and Ned; Sebast was still asleep in the loft. He'd had a sore throat when they woke up this morning, and was trying to stave off any potential illness with medicine and extra rest. Smirking, Kala typed back, _What're you gonna be? Big Bad Wolf?_

 _Bite me,_ he shot back, and just as swiftly she typed, _That's your line._

A moment's pause, and she imagined him rolling his eyes – but also laughing, and that was her intent. _I'll figure something out. Just wanted you to know. If you see in the papers 'missing Wayne brother returns' you won't be surprised._

He also wanted to complain about his family, and Kala knew it. He loved them, but he was still afraid to let that show, so this defensiveness was just camouflage. _So proud of you for this noble sacrifice,_ she replied.

And then, as he continued to bitch, she decided to make some plans of her own. With three days to plan, surely there was some kind of excuse she could make. First, though, she'd need to call Alfred…

…

Milling around the edges of the party, the Annual Gotham Masked Ball in full swing around him, Jay grabbed a flute of champagne off a nearby tray and knocked it back in one long swallow. He couldn't believe he'd let Bruce and his brothers talk him into coming to this thing, charity event or not. He could've been running down leads on the idiot who thought he was gonna absorb Black Mask's market share, right about now, instead of drinking champagne and wishing for a beer.

Well, no. It wasn't Bruce or even Dickie-Bird who talked him into this. It was Alfred, and there was very little Jay wouldn't do for that man. The one _good_ relationship in his entire life, untainted by betrayal or grief. If Alfred thought he should go, he'd go.

This event just wasn't his scene; too bright, too many simpering little society kids, too shallow, too _showy_ for his tastes. All this family-togetherness shit wasn't his scene either, but Dick had promised it could be fun. And the prospect of watching Tim navigate a social event did seem entertaining.

Then again, the costumed aspect of the event was probably its saving grace. There was no way he wanted to be recognized at this thing, especially not so soon after coming back into the fold of the family. Bruce had agreed to reveal his identity only after he'd left the actual party. For a long time, Jay had been the long lost Wayne kid, the wild child that had gone off and disappeared, the middle child that no one talked about, and it fucking blew. He didn't need that kind of crap thrown back in his face tonight. Not to mention … other things, that he wouldn't even spare another moment to think on.

Still, he hadn't been too keen on dressing up for this thing. "'Pick out a costume, already,' they said," he muttered to himself, setting the now-empty champagne flute on another passing tray. "'It'll be fun,' they said. Yeah, right." Dammit, he couldn't believe how easily they'd gotten under his skin. But at least Jay had put up a good fight. Where Dick and Tim had decided to go all out—the pair of them entirely too excited about it, to boot—and dressed as princes straight out of Disney movies, he'd only relented so far as to wearing a tux and a white half-mask, calling it the Phantom of the Opera.

"Fuck 'em," he grumbled under his breath. "And fuck you, too, K. This is all your fault," he went on, trailing off with a litany of choice curses.

And she'd hear about it, too, once he got the hell out of here. That would happen the first chance he got, whether it pissed off Daddy Bats or not. It _was_ all Kala's fault he was here in the first place, anyhow. If she hadn't gotten him talking to the rest of the family again, he wouldn't have decided to start spending so much time back at the Manor. Therefore, he wouldn't be in the midst of this damn party, pretending like his costume was the greatest thing since sliced bread.

"Oh, Phantom of the Opera!" someone said from beneath an eighteenth century courtesan get-up, powdered wig and fan and all, as she passed by.

Jay only rolled his eyes behind his mask as the courtesan giggled and attempted some sort of half-assed curtsy in a dress that she'd obviously had no experience moving in. "Yep, you got me," he admitted with a plastered-on grin as he accepted the courtesan's hand and lightly kissed her knuckles. "One of my favorites."

The courtesan giggled again, fanning herself. "I just _love_ that play. It's got everything. And _oh,_ the romance. Quite a commentary on the nature of the human heart, wouldn't you say? Have you seen the sequel?"

Having never watched the film adaption or the years-later sequel, Jay just nodded and kept grinning. "Absolutely. Very deep metaphor, there," he replied, tilting his head forward just a fraction as he loomed over the courtesan. Clearly she hadn't read the original novel, or she'd know it was more tragedy than romance.

But the woman stiffened in response to his posture, a sad excuse for a giggle escaping her, and she fanned herself, bowing again. "Begging your pardon, sir," she excused herself, turning with a flounce of ruffles and lace to bounce off and bug someone else.

Relief flooding him, Jay blew out a breath and made his way further out from the throng of people. Fuck, he was so utterly sick of that shit. He had zero interest in flirting tonight, and he wasn't aware he was throwing off intimidating body language until after he'd done it.

But just as he'd found a nice corner to sulk in, leaning against one of the many broad columns that lined the perimeter of the ballroom, a flash of silver and white passed through the corner of his vision, and a rather cool voice said in his ear, "Brooding like the Phantom, _non_ _?_ It is not very becoming, not in a setting such as this." The woman's voice had a distinct French accent, and Jay froze as lips brushed the shell of his ear. "You should be enjoying yourself, _n'est-ce pas_?"

When a hand stroked down his side, he spun away from the column, squashing the urge to fall into a fighting stance, and preparing himself to tell yet another society bitch to take a hike. The sight that met his eyes momentarily silenced him, however. _This_ girl had put some serious effort into her costume. A custom job for sure: yards of diaphanous white tulle in the skirt and sleeves; a tight iridescent-white bodice set with crystal beads in icy shades of blue, silver, and white; a mask of snowy leaves that hid her face, except for blue lips that were curved in a smile that made him a little uneasy, and intense violet eyes. And to top it all off, a freakin' crown of what looked like quartz crystals, shaped and set to mimic icicles. Beneath the crown, long black hair was hung with pearls, lightly frosted in white to suggest snow, and she'd also powdered her skin as pale as frost. The whole ensemble was dusted with icy shades of glitter that sparkled like snowflakes as she stalked around him.

Stamping down on the part of his brain that was trying to mutter _wow_ , he finally managed to regain his equilibrium. "Snow Queen. Nice. If you're looking for a Kai, I can steer you to a couple of princes." Jay glanced over his shoulder, looking to see if Dick or Tim were around to pawn this one off on. The last thing he needed now was complications.

" _Mais non_ , I seek no prince, nor a Kai," she protested, stroking a hand down the buttons of his shirt before taking a coy step back. The part of his mind that was never _not_ a Bat noticed she moved like a martial artist, grace and power. "The one I seek would be willing and not a victim, if he is to be found. And I myself am no mere courtesan to be dismissed as you did the other. No, the Snow Queen cannot be denied—not even by one such as you."

"Suppose I'm as ugly as the Phantom underneath this mask?" he asked, intrigued by her boldness.

The girl laughed, even her laughter formal, her voice silvery. "Ah, but I know better, my dear Phantom. You see, I have more than once looked upon your face."

A little tendril of ice slipped down his spine; how the fuck did she know him? Was this one of Gotham's villains crashing the party? She certainly acted predatory and presumptuous. "Have I seen yours?" he replied, letting himself sound taunting instead of tautly nervous as he took a step forward and reached for her mask.

"Perhaps." That single word was plainly elusive. Deftly, she sidestepped, catching his hand, and rapped him lightly on the nose. "Surely, you know that no one is to unmask before midnight. As you know the host of this event, that could not have escaped you, _mon ange de musique_?"

 _My_ angel of music, she called him. This girl acted almost like she had a right to him. Hmm, black hair—but Donna would never show up in an outfit like that, and she didn't speak French as far as he knew. Not to mention she'd never been this playful. Who the hell did he know with a French accent who could be this forward? And those eyes. Violet was rare, although they could have been colored contacts…

Clearly amused by his confusion, she brought his hand to her lips and kissed his palm, leaving a touch of blue frost on his skin. That little smile curled into the corners of her mouth again, as if she knew far more than she was letting on. "Ah, your mind is awhirl with deduction, I can see. Be patient, dear Phantom. You shall know me soon enough."

"I'm not known for my patience," he told her, stepping close to loom over her. This time it failed, and she didn't back off.

Instead she leaned into him, a fine dusting of glitter falling on his tux as cerulean lips curved further. Another of those musical laughs, soft and low. "Ah, _c'est vraiment_. The Phantom of the Opera is more known for spiriting away young girls to his secret underground lair. Was that perhaps more what you had in mind, _mon loup_ _?_ "

"You're mixing up your fairy tales…" he started to say, his mouth at her ear—and then he got a whiff of her perfume. A heady note of violet, some sort of sweet candy underneath, and he _knew_ that scent. But he'd never expected her to show up _here!_ That one night of shared madness was all it was ever going to be, he'd told himself. No way would she ever come back for anything more than helping bust heads, no matter what she'd said the morning after. Never mind the flirty texts they'd exchanged, that was just keeping in touch. Yet here she was in his arms. While he was still reeling, she turned her head and raised a hand to her face before facing him again. She looked up at him, and now he saw her bright teasing hazel eyes behind the mask, the violet lenses gone, replaced by hazel that finally convinced his disbelieving mind. "Kala?!" Jay whispered harshly, drawing back at look at her.

The smile on those blue lips was definitely Kala's now, her normal warm laughter raising from her lips, and then the voice was hers, too, the accent vanishing. "Some detective you are, Jaybird. All of the hints were there and you still couldn't make me. The most obvious was the accent. Born in Paris, remember?" She was smirking, beaming up at him while she laughed, her face still close to his. "And to top it all off, you try to pawn me off on your brothers. I finally get a chance to get free, I don't let Babs divert me this time, and you're trying to get rid of me already. Aren't we still friends?" Her tone had gone from taunting to low and sincere by the end, but the question was still clear in her eyes. Maybe he wasn't the only one who'd felt off-balance since her last visit. Those words made him shiver with the memory of the last morning he'd seen her, still shy even when she was wrapped in his sheets.

Still a little thrown off that she was even here, Jay couldn't resist teasing her a bit in return for trying to fool him. "Hey, I wasn't exactly expecting you, you know? I've been fending off the advances of society princesses all damn night. And some of them can get pretty damn handsy," he said, slipping his own hands around her waist and letting his fingers wander southward to illustrate his point. "But yeah, we're friends," he added, dipping his head down to murmur in her ear, "if that's what you want."

This time Kala drew back from him, looking up just enough to catch his gaze with hers through the mask, her smile growing knowing and sultry. Had to have been the answer she wanted. She didn't speak for a moment, just searching his face for something before replying quietly, "I'm here, aren't I, Red?"

Jay got the distinct impression that she was arching an eyebrow at him behind her mask, and that drew a laugh out of him. "I guess you are," he answered her, the world seeming to still around them as the implications in their words hung in the air between them. The corner of his mouth twitched upward as his surprise turned to want, and he tugged Kala closer and leaned in to kiss her.

A finger landing on his lips stopped him, though, Kala's eyes sparkling with mirth behind her mask. "You do that, you'll get blue lipstick and glitter all over your face," she murmured, laughter in her tone.

Kissing her finger instead, Jay smiled against it, Kala smiling back instantly. "Point," he conceded, but when she dropped her hand to lay it against his chest, he added, "Could be fun, though. Get a little dirty, start a few rumors."

Kala's frame shook with a full laugh at that, honestly amused, and she winked at him. No telling what brought her out here, but she appeared more than willing to raise a little hell, too. "So you wanna take the chance, huh? Gotta say, I think I like that idea. Sounds worthy of us." Another of those blinding white smiles. "How about we dance our way through the party and the Phantom and the Snow Queen can kidnap each other properly? That would be unexpected of us, don't you think? None of the family has a clue I'm here, except Babs, and she won't tell."

"Sounds like a plan," he replied, taking her hand and sliding his arm around her waist. With no further warning, Jay stepped out from behind the pillar, sweeping her with him onto the dance floor.

Kala probably had no idea that one of the less-glorious parts of being a Robin was hanging out at godforsaken events like this, which meant a working knowledge of ballroom dance was necessary. _Every_ powdered-up society maven wanted to dance with the cute little ward and pinch his cheeks. The younger ones might sneak a pinch elsewhere, too, at least once he was a teenager. Actually knowing how to dance forced them to keep their hands to themselves.

And by the wide-eyed look on her face as Jay waltzed her across the room, Kala hadn't suspected at all. Then she chuckled, proving his first reaction right and looking clearly delighted with the fact that he knew what he was doing. "So, even more hidden talents come to light," she teased, smirking a little now. "Color me impressed, Mr. Todd." She followed his every move like they'd planned this; then again, he'd seen enough of her videos on YouTube to know the girl could dance. Too bad they only had slow music to dance to. She had way better moves than waltzing music called for.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jay saw Dick turn and stare. He grinned and let the hand on the small of her back drop a few inches, just to see the confusion on Dick's face. _Take that, Golden Boy. That's for joking that she's been avoiding me, just because she hasn't patrolled with_ _ **me**_ _the only time she's been in town since the summer. That was all Babs trolling._ Both of his brothers had given him hell about it, and he'd just bitten his lip and cut them down with a scathing remark or two.

Not as if he could tell them the truth, though, which he hadn't known for sure until K had told him about her sit-down with Babs in Clock Tower. He'd been worried that she had run Kala off for good the other week; no matter what had passed between them, there was no telling what would happen once someone else knew. One hot-headed decision, one night together after that brush with insanity, might not have meant as much then. Never mind that kiss at the airport, never mind the tension that had been growing between them since the summer. Never mind the way she'd moved in the dark of his apartment, the way she'd cried out. Jay had just about convinced himself that all he'd done was scratch an itch for her, nothing more. Texts weren't the same, not when you were more than a hundred miles apart. And then here she was again. Just like she had promised.

Right on cue, Kala swatted his shoulder when his hand slipped lower. She tilted her head at him, those blue lips smirking. He knew she had one brow arched at him sardonically. "Watch it, Red. Starting a few rumors isn't the same as scandalizing the whole crowd. And would you _stop_ grabbing my ass!" she finished with a hiss, glaring up at him and not very convincingly trying not to snicker.

"If I was gonna scandalize 'em I'd do this," he laughed in return, pulling her tight against him, which earned him a grin and another laugh. Holding her hand as they swayed with their hips pressed flush against each other, he smiled down at her and watched the way those hazel eyes widened. A half-turn, and he bent without warning to kiss her, not caring about the glitter or the lipstick. No one knew who he was with, none of them knew this was _Kala_ , Big Blue's daughter, and for once he could enjoy having her close without wondering when the recriminations would start.

She took a deep breath, almost a gasp, when he kissed her, and as they drew back, Kala just watched him warily, obviously amazed by his boldness and ignoring everyone around them, following almost absentmindedly. She seemed stunned that he had done it. Even so, she had the unthinking grace he expected from someone who danced every night on stage in front of thousands of screaming fans. It was almost too bad they weren't hanging around. They could really light up this party…

They were almost there, still no appearance from Daddy Bats and Dick had yet to move toward them, their goal in sight. He couldn't resist a chuckle, Kala grinning infectiously up at him before nodding. " _Now_." Squeezing through the narrowing gap between two dancing couples, they hit the edge of the dance floor at last, and with a barely suppressed shared laugh, they were out of the crowd and making a break for it.

…

 _Mission accomplished._

Exhilarated by everything the evening had held so far, Kala was laughing out loud by the time they reached the main hall, grinning over at Jay, all of her earlier mess with the band finally lost as the excellent plan she'd concocted to spirit him out of there paid off. Sebast was holed up in his own room, sneezing and hacking through bottles of NyQuil. Kala had worried for him, but beyond bringing him meds and soup and tea, she couldn't do much. And Sebast was more interested in sleeping, and no way would he let Kala near enough for her to catch it, too. Not that she got sick very often, but the label agreed, and at least they weren't having to move tour dates around yet.

There was one thing she _could_ do tonight, and that was rescue Jay. God bless Alfred and his willingness to share information with her. This night could have been smoldering ruins for her, but now the gray pall over the evening was gone. Gone was the melancholy, replaced with an urgent restlessness. The need to do something, anything, to take advantage of the lightning in her veins. She closed her eyes and drank it in.

The jailbreak wasn't the only reason for her wild streak to be showing and Kala wasn't a big enough fool not to know why. She hadn't wanted to admit to herself that she was almost afraid to see Jay again after the last time she was here. What had happened between them could've changed the balance in ways that couldn't be repaired. Falling into bed with him hadn't been something she'd planned; however, if she was honest with herself, it had been inevitable. And she wasn't ashamed in the slightest for any of it.

Something had been building since summer, something neither of them had acknowledged aloud. That kiss at the airport had made her toes curl and sent a stab of want through her that had knocked her world just a little askew. And then he'd walked out of her life. Just like she would bet he'd planned to do. And with the tour in full-swing, she would also bet he'd figured that he'd never see her again. The Bats, it seemed, had other plans.

And now here they were, running into the night together, and if she'd known that Alfred had both encouraged Jay to go and had encouraged her to liberate him, she would've laughed for half the city to hear.

All that considered, the wave of relief at his reception had been enormous. He didn't view her as a huge mistake, at least. _Thank God._ Whatever happened tonight, regardless, she hadn't lost him to a fit of passion. She would have never forgiven herself if all the chaos since that one night had managed to destroy what they'd managed to weather together. Then again, he was still texting her even after Babs had busted the pair of them; that had been a good sign.

Glancing up as they made their way down the long side corridor toward the parking deck, she really _looked_ at Jay. A startled laugh rose from her throat as she realized that, with one kiss, he had managed to smudge her opaline and icy blue makeup across the one side of his Phantom mask and get iridescent glitter all over the uncovered portion of his face and down the front of his tux. "Oh God, Jay, you should see yourself," she snickered, trying not to fall into giggles. "Don't say I didn't warn you to wait. Now we're _both_ going to have to stop at your place and clean up. There's no way we can go out like this, even if I super-speed. Theater makeup can be a bitch to take off. And this mask isn't going to cut it."

Jay only smirked at her deeper, his eyes seeming to narrow behind his mask as he took her hand and sped up to a further spurt of laughter from Kala. "What, you think I wanna go _out_ after this?" he shot back, teasing evident in his tone even as his face sparkled with the transferred glitter.

Another chuckle, and Kala shook her head with a grin, easily keeping up with his pace, though she held the front hem of her dress up slightly to avoid tripping on it. What happened next was all up to him. Despite anything else dancing in her mind, her primary objective tonight had been to break him out and see him, even if it was for a minute. She shrugged then, flashing him a grin. Texts were one thing; just because they were flirting and things hadn't gotten weird didn't mean that they were going to pick right up where they left off. "With the way you've been going on about that case for the last week, I kinda figured you'd rather hit the rooftops once I sprung you, yeah. Especially considering the info you got the other night," she answered truthfully, not willing to make the first move and push her luck. She'd take whatever he had to give tonight.

Scoffing, Jay glanced at her as sideways as he could with the mask in the way. "You seriously want to go _patrol?"_ Coming to an abrupt halt in the corridor just as they reached the exit doors leading out to the parking deck, he cupped her face in both hands and leaned down to kiss her deeply, backing her up against a wall.

The breath she didn't know she was holding came tickling out in a low moan as she leaned into him, her hands sliding over the material of his tuxedo jacket to curl into his hair. The nervous anticipation unknotted, leaving her momentarily boneless with relief. Kala's body sang with it, head tipping back as she responded, and she breathed in surprise at the firm weight pressing her against the wall, Jay's fingers lightly tracing the features of her face as he kissed her even deeper. That made where they stood clear as crystal. All of the other events of the evening vanished as the control she'd been holding so tightly to buckled to free thoughts she'd been trying to bury.

But all too soon he pulled back, leaving Kala gasping in the wake of the kiss, and his grin turned dark. "I don't particularly feel like wasting a perfectly good night on going out, do you?"

The slight rasp to his voice then sent a shiver down her spine, pure naked want dancing along her nerve endings as she realized that not only was that first time was not going to be an isolated incident, but also that tonight would be a repeat performance. With the added bonus of glitter, high fashion, and nothing pressing on the schedule. Considering how everything had been just the opposite with them up until this moment, the thought made her laugh. It truly was strange times.

A mischievous grin curling across her lips in return, Kala gave a slow shake of her head . "So I guess we're heading up to the Bowery, huh? Think I'm dressed for it?"

Jay chuckled. "Well, I'm sort of back at the Manor, despite clearing out for a couple days so Alfred could actually go on a date, and anyway all my stuff's there right now, so, we're not _technically_ going to my place. That is, we can if you don't mind being snuck in," he finished, teasing again.

"The Manor?" That threw her, almost as much as the idea of _Alfred_ going on a _date_. She'd heard Doc Leslie was on her way back, and this must've meant she arrived. One more piece of news that Kala hadn't heard yet, and she was beginning to understand why Babs was obsessive about having _all_ the info.

The thought of going to the Manor with him also made her heart speed up when she considered the possibility. She knew just how controlled an environment it was. Not to mention the fact that she wasn't even supposed to be here, as far as most of them knew. They were definitely going for the danger factor tonight. Kala gave him a pointed look that she was sure he could read even through her mask. "Okay, sure. 'Cause that's going to be easy and there's no _way_ we'll get caught by the surveillance cams. Guess we're having an adventure tonight, after all. Added level of difficulty, sure. Is this our brightest idea?"

Another grin, hot and wicked. "You can fly, can't you? And I can sure as hell climb. Come on, I'm parked on the second level," he finished with a jerk of his head, tugging her away from the wall and through the double doors onto the parking deck.

Following him up with a smile still firmly affixed to her face, Kala paused when they got there, and she didn't see any of his three cars parked anywhere. "All right, I know your car wasn't stolen…" she started, a little too innocently.

But Jay just threw a smirk over his shoulder at her and pressed a button on the key fob he pulled from a pocket.

Several spaces down, the lights on a very expensive and very well-maintained bike lit up, its alarm disengaging. As usual, fate was pointing a finger and laughing at her. Kala rolled her eyes heavenward with a groan.

Ah, there always had to be some kind of obstacles. It just figured. "Jay, you are the only man I know that would get on one of those things wearing a tailored suit." A short laugh escaped her, despite herself. She really should have known. "And I'm supposed to ride on _that?_ In _this?_ _Great."_ Seeing his grin, Kala just sighed, resigned to her fate. There was no changing it. She'd just have to have the dress dry-cleaned later, anyway. Her arms crossing in mock-annoyance, flashing her eyes at him, she resorted to taunting him, unable to resist ribbing him. "So, what's up with the bike? Unable to resist temptation for your deviant obsession? I don't remember you telling me you got an upgrade."

"It's not new," he retorted indignantly. "I had to lay it down, scratched it all to hell. So I figured what the hell, time to get a new paint job. I guess it does look a bit different. To the untrained eye, anyway."

She snorted at that. Trust Jay to be talking about his bike when they were purring all up on each other. "You really, _really_ are a motorcycle fetishist, you know that? Awww, so it's still _our_ bike then, huh?" Laughing at the glare he tossed her, Kala caught the hem of her dress, already trying to figure out how she was going to manage this. "Only for you would I even try this." She'd have to tuck most of the skirts under her to keep them from tangling in the wheels, but at the same time she couldn't let them ride up _too_ far.

Jay shook his head at her, swinging astride the bike. "You could always fly and meet me there."

"Says the man that's never had to try flying, unobserved, in a corseted gown. In Gotham, no less. No thanks," Kala sighed, gathering her skirts carefully as she climbed on. This was _so_ much easier in uniform.

By the time she was comfortably settled, Jay was smirking over his shoulder at her. Kala's legs in her white stockings were bared partway up her thigh, and he was obviously enjoying the view. Kala just grinned back, tightening her knees against his legs. She didn't need to clutch his waist to hold on; she'd been riding horses and mules since she was six, and had the leg strength and balance to keep steady on the bike even with Jay driving. "Well, Phantom? You gonna eat me up with your eyes here in the parking lot, or get on with the kidnapping already?"

"I thought you were the one kidnapping me," Jay teased.

"My sleigh's in the shop," Kala shot back, resting her hands on his hips. "Just _drive_."

He took off a little quicker than he should've, but Kala knew him and anticipated that. She moved with him through every turn, keeping her weight centered above the bike. And the whole time she knew the pressure of her legs wrapped around his thighs had to be driving him nuts. At each acceleration she squeezed infinitesimally tighter, even while she laughed with the wind in her hair.

Eventually they came to a stop light, and the powerful bike throbbed between Kala's legs, giving her all sorts of ideas. One of which was utterly irresistible. Letting herself live in the moment, she leaned forward while wrapping her arms around Jay, and nuzzled the back of his neck. The chill air made the contrast of her warmth even more obvious, but that wasn't why Jay was shivering. "Knock it off unless you wanna give the old couple in the Suburban a show," he growled.

She gave a husky little chuckle then, daring herself to do what she wanted most. His reactions were just making it too easy give in. God, how he took her out of herself when she was around him. Kala turned toward the SUV parked beside them, leaned forward to smile and wave with her friendliest smile. And while Jay was scoffing at her, she stretched forward and licked his earlobe. "That wasn't a challenge!" Jay snapped, but he didn't sound angry so much as perturbed.

Laughing, she nipped his ear, reading his reaction in the fact that he wasn't pushing her away. Now for the real test, her cheeks burning at what she had planned, but she couldn't resist. "No, Red, but I think we can both say _this_ is a challenge," she purred, sliding a hand into the right pocket of his slacks.

His spine stiffened, and that probably wasn't all. "The hell's gotten into you?" he asked gruffly, accelerating harder than necessary.

 _Oh dear God, this is crazy, but don't let it stop. Don't ever let it stop._ Kala leaned forward, closing her eyes at his response, and murmured back in his ear, "You."

For that he had no reply, except to break the speed limit and several other traffic laws on the way back to the Manor.


	51. Like a Fiery Beacon

**Authors' Note:** This is the toned-down version of the scene. If you want to read the original version in its entirety, come visit us at AO3 under the name kalalanekent. Both versions are hot with plot. Enjoy!

* * *

By the time Jay pulled the bike into the garage and parked it in the far back corner, there was absolutely no denying his arousal from Kala's incessant teasing. Cursing under his breath as he cut the engine, he let his eyes slide shut, dropped his head back to lean into the press of her body against his back, and gripped her thighs just below the hem of her skirts, squeezing hard. He could her heated gasp from behind him, the way her body listed forward, the way she was shivering. And that was all he could stand.

"Do you have any fucking idea?" he breathed, turning to catch her mouth in a heated kiss and twine their tongues together.

Kala responded by returning the kiss with equal fervor, grinding her hips up against his ass again, that now familiar low moan deep in her throat, and Jay just couldn't take another fucking minute of her torture. Standing to slide off the bike, he met her when she dismounted after him, gripping her arms now, pulling her in for another kiss. Their masks clicked together, and he freed one hand to irritably swipe hers off, hanging it on the handlebars.

With her vision clear, Kala didn't wait another minute, either. She gripped his shoulders in return, her mouth as hungry as his, and rolled her hips up against him. "I think you might just want to show me," she whispered hotly when they broke apart for air. Her hazel eyes were darker than he'd ever seen them, the color deepened by desire.

At that, he pressed against her insistently, and there was that sexy little moan again as he kissed her. He wasn't in any mood for breaking into the Manor right now; Jay had other things in mind. He also had Kala backed up against the bike, his hands sliding down to her hips so he could gather up the skirts.

Incredibly, she was laughing, one hand slipping down his chest, and then further down. Meeting his eyes as her hand reached its intended destination, she let the wickedest smile grow. There was a flush in her cheeks, but she didn't stop. "Looks like I really did get your attention on the way here. Poor Jay. But I have to say, you're only about half as keyed up as I am, Red."

By way of a reply, he yanked the skirt up, her skin hot under his hands as he grabbed her thigh and pulled her tight against him. She caught her breath and he saw her brow furrow as they moved together, her eyes at half-mast. "You're still working on months of backlog," he growled.

Her eyes fluttered closed as he lifted her leg to wrap it around his waist, but she still managed to return the taunt, no matter how breathless her voice was now. "Months, plural? You decided you wanted me from the moment I dropped down from a rooftop and you stole my thunder? When you were still kicking my ass and acting superior?"

"No, from the moment you broke my nose," he retorted. "Less talk, more action." Silencing her with his tongue in her mouth, he shoved her against the bike so he could get a hand between them and get his damn pants unzipped.

She broke away then, panting. "Not like this," she started to say, but he caught her hair at the nape of her neck and pulled it tight as he kissed her, knocking the crown askew. As she moaned into his mouth, rising up on her toes, he filed her response away for future reference. "Really, Jay, not…" She wouldn't take a hint, and he cupped her breast, squeezing it as much as he could through the reinforced corset. He was quickly learning that this was yet another of Kala's weaknesses, and exploited it, whatever she had been going to say lost in a hiss of arousal.

"Yeah, like this," he insisted, reaching for her other leg to bring them both around his waist. He could set her on the bike, sideways, and it wouldn't take a second to get around whatever she was wearing under—

The next thing Jay knew, he was the one sitting down on the bike—astride it, even. Kala's hands were on his shoulders from where she'd just picked him up and moved him, faster than his eyes could see. Before he could protest, she kicked the skirts out and swung a leg over him. "No, Jay. Like _this,"_ she said, her eyes dancing with wickedness. "I wouldn't want you to knock over your newly-pretty bike. Especially with what I plan to do to you."

"To hell with the goddamn bike, _come_ _here,"_ Jay snarled, grabbing her ass and yanking her tight against him. This time she came more than willingly, that throaty little laughter driving him crazy. Leaning close, this kiss was torrid as hell, grinding her hips against him tauntingly, fingers tight in his hair, and he found himself thinking that this was nothing like he'd ever expected Big Blue's daughter to be. In all of that training, all of those moments alone, he'd never even guessed how wicked she was capable of being. And over him, at that. Damn, she was sinful!

Delighted with the prospect of her take-charge attitude and dirty mind, with her breath hot against his ear as she nipped his neck, Jay ran his hands up under the skirts to divest her of her panties. He felt her body tense then, making him pause, but it didn't seem in protest and there were no indications that she was going to move away. And she could; they both knew she was only here because she _really_ wanted to be. The kisses had stopped for the moment; just her breath teasing against his neck. Something else was going on here. Taking his time, his hands continued their journey until she started shivering when he reached the top of the stockings. What was she…? He knew why when his hands then met only skin. "Guess you found the surprise," Kala whispered, her voice trembling, like she might be nervous or something.

And _oh,_ holy shit, she _seriously—?_ Jay's breath caught in his throat as this new revelation shocked him all the way to his toes. If it was even possible, just the realization that Kala had gone _commando_ to the gala made him even harder.

"Jesus _fuck,_ K," he breathed, gripping her hips to pull her flush against him, rolling his own hips to meet her. "Warn a guy, will ya?"

Kala pulled back to look him in the eyes, her own darker than ever in the dim light of the garage. Just from the way she searched his eyes, it was clear that this wasn't something she just did for anyone. Never breaking eye contact, her breath speeding up, she reached down to finish undoing his pants for him. Her voice was starting to get breathy when she murmured back, "Now what would be the fun in that, Red? Besides, this garage is a little more secure than the other. We don't need another incident like last time, do we?"

Damn, her level of evil had risen to new heights. Or sunk to new depths. Fuck, Jay didn't fucking care; all his blood flow had gone south for the winter already. The last shreds of his higher brain function went to fishing a condom out of the storage compartment of the bike, before they thoroughly and completely wrecked the thing.

Afterward, when his senses started to clear again, he couldn't help a long, shuddering sigh, the sound somewhere between a whimper and a groan, and he realized Kala was pretty nearly lying flat over top him, his back pressed flush over the slight curve of the bike. Fuck, his back was gonna kill him tomorrow, but whatever; this was so far beyond worth it that physical injury was like a goddamn badge of honor. _Hey, see this scar? I got it fucking the hottest Kryptonian this side of the galaxy._

Oh yeah, definitely worth it.

Lifting herself up from him, Kala blinked down at him owlishly, her chest rising and falling dramatically as she regained her breath. Or maybe Jay was making that last bit up in his fucked-out post-coital haze, but there was no denying the way she looked in that corset … that was gonna come _off_ as soon as they got the fuck upstairs.

A slow grin moved over Kala's face as she gazed down at him. "You are _never_ gonna get all the glitter off this bike, you know," she teased him, her voice low and rough from overuse.

A glance down as he sat up, and Jay saw the shimmer that seemed to be coating every surface. And … _aw, fuck it._ Shrugging, he grinned right back and kissed her. "I can always get Timmy to clean it for me."

Snorting a laugh, Kala shook her head in fond disbelief, and she carefully lifted herself off of him, dismounting the bike and smoothing down her skirts, looking none the worse for wear. Well, excepting for the mess that her fallen hair had become and the smudging of her lipstick. But somehow she'd managed to keep the crown on her head. Jay just stared, his brain too shorted out to do anything else right at the moment. So he was surprised when she leaned in again to kiss him quickly, then whisper in his ear, "You'll live, I promise. Meet you upstairs. Don't keep me waiting," and then she was gone, disappeared with a whoosh of air. Leaving him all alone in the glitter-bombed garage. With his pants still undone.

Fuck. Still worth it.

Discarding the used condom and tucking himself back into his pants, Jay headed out to take the long way upstairs, the cold of the Manor's stonework clearing away the haze shrouding his brain and spurring him on faster as he climbed up to his third-floor window.

After all, he didn't want to keep Kala waiting.

…

Hovering above the Manor, out of reach of its security systems, Kala closed her eyes and listened for Jay's window opening. Right now she felt a thousand percent better than she had when she left for Gotham—even if she couldn't quite believe she'd just had Jay in the garage _on his bike_. Chalk that up to another life experience provided by Red Hood. She found herself stifling yet another laugh, one of several she'd had since she got here.

Thinking over the events of her last important visit out here, she found herself wondering if Jay knew what she'd asked Dick about him, or if maybe Dick had told him what she'd said about him. Possibility was about half-and-half; either her request hadn't been passed on or Jay didn't feel like it was worth mentioning. Maybe that had been the reason he had come down so hard on Babs. She had never even intended for him to know, but she couldn't have him believing that she was deliberately avoiding him. There had been enough of that to last a lifetime, thank you. But the end result had been what she wanted: as long as she followed protocol, she could come and go in Gotham as she pleased and no one else had to know what was going on until they wanted anyone to. It was _their_ move to make.

Far below her, the window scraped faintly, and Kala, shaking off her thoughts, dove down and through it faster than any of the security cameras could capture her image. That was why her code name was Blur, after all. Landing silently in the room, she was amused to hear Jay muttering, "C'mon, K, someone'll notice the window open."

"So close it," she laughed from behind him, delighted that she'd been so fast he hadn't even seen her come in. The breeze outside was strong enough that it had helped mask her arrival.

Jay whirled at her statement, then grinned at her, his face still half-obscured by the Phantom mask. "About time," he muttered, closing the window. "Here I thought I'd be the one keeping _you_ waiting."

Stepping closer to him with a grin in return at his halfhearted grumbling, she slid her hands up his chest and nuzzled his jaw. Jay's arms slid around her, pulling her in tightly to him, and it was so good; at the moment she felt utterly warm and safe and happy and so deliciously _wanted_ that it made her purr. It was one hell of a brain-bleed to think back to the way of things only a few months ago; when they first met, none of those words would have ever occurred to her where things Red Hood were concerned. But now? Being with him almost seemed like a haven from the insanity that was slowly becoming her straight life.

No, tonight was supposed to be just for her, a respite from all of that, a few hours away from too-close-for-comfort schedules, endless interviews, Robb and Ned's brotherly in-fighting, Sebast's sudden deviant behavior even before he got sick, that idiot of a tour manager trying to drive them all nuts. Tonight she wasn't KLK; she was just Kala, just Blur, and she refused to spend another moment of hard-won time on it until dawn.

"Your crown's crooked," Jay remarked then, startling her out of her mental prep-talk.

"And your mask's still on." Kala grinned and withdrew from his embrace just enough to pull it off, shaking her hair free of it. He took it from her and tossed it, the crown settling neatly around the post on the footboard of his bed.

Tossing her head released another shower of glitter, the heavier kind that could at least be swept up easily. Enough so that she was actually starting to feel guilty for the deluge. Jay would have one hell of a fun time dealing with the micro-glitter later on, but there was no need to clue him into that now. He could call it a souvenir when he was still finding the stuff all over his bike a month from now. Smirking when she looked up to see that he was noticing it, too, Kala commented drolly, "I need a shower, unless you want to get glitter all over your bed." Glancing down at the glitter and makeup damage done to his tux, she added with a laugh, "And so do you."

Returning her look, Jay pulled off his own mask at last and dropped it, revealing the dark mirth in his eyes and a raised brow. "Oh really? You don't want to get even dirtier?"

At that, Kala let her smile turn sultry again. "But if I clean up, you get to try all over again, Jay. Especially since I'm playing the Red to your Big Bad Wolf, or Blue, as the case may be, " she purred up at him the way she had earlier, feeling the heat rise again this quickly. The urge to just let him have his way tore at her, making her smile lazy, but his tune would be pretty different when he went down to breakfast with tiny flecks of violet and silver sparkling on his skin. "All teasing aside, trust me, Red, this stuff can be like sand after a day at the beach. You _don't_ want to work it into all the little crevices. And believe me, it can."

"Ah, touché," Jay conceded, before his lips quirked again and he gripped her shoulders and spun her in place, his hands going right to the ties at the base of her corset. "If we're gonna get cleaned up, _this_ needs to go, don't you think?" he added, leaning close to whisper in her ear as he loosened the ties.

The slumbering embers of their encounter stirred at his closeness, all of her nerves shivering in her still-heightened state. "Oh God yes, please," she agreed with a low groan as the corset loosened quickly, giving her room to breathe. Not that she couldn't handle a little reduced lung capacity; she'd worn a corset as part of her stage costume and with her old Blur costume for years, to no ill effect. But still, it was always nice to get a little extra fresh oxygen in her chest.

Reaching up, she carded her fingers through Jay's hair as he pulled the chiffon inset from the corset and tossed the garment onto a chair in the corner. His hands found her breasts then, and she felt his sharp intake of breath as he gasped in surprise that she had nothing on underneath. A self-satisfied little smile rippled over her lips even as her eyes rolled back in reaction. Nothing should feel half as good as his brief touch trailing over her hyper-stimulated skin. Arching into his touch, she murmured, "Come on, after downstairs, and you're surprised by this? Nothing under a corset is the norm these days, Jay."

Jay snickered, his hands cupping her breasts. His fingers teasing her nipples, as if he'd been waiting all night to get at them. Kala's eyes rolled back and her spine arched, round two almost over before it began at that insistent touch. Then kneading and caressing her breasts before finally, almost reluctantly, traveling down to start working on her skirts. "Hey, it's not every day I get such a sexy visitor."

"Sexy, huh? Didn't you get to see me every day for almost two months? Most of it I spent dodging your fists, but hey," Kala shot back over her shoulder, both of them grinning, as she helped him push her skirts down over her hips. The white garters and hose were short work, as well. "No worries. This is just for starters. Backlog, remember? That said, seems like somebody here's a little over-dressed." Stepping out of her heeled boots, she turned in his grip and shoved his tux jacket back off his shoulders.

"Absolutely, on both counts," Jay replied. With quick fingers, he helped her with the tuxedo and the buttons on his shirt, then with his pants, and to Kala's surprise he was naked even faster than she'd been, kicking his shoes and pants off as he caught her around the waist, lips against hers again, and started walking them back to the bathroom.

Kala gave a little delighted little chuckle as she tried to keep her balance, trying not to shiver at the way her nerves were still sparking from aftershocks, overwhelmed by the way he made her feel. She'd never met anyone who had been so determined to use every minute they had with her. "So, stripping is your superpower?" Kala teased as she pulled out the pins holding the pearls in her hair, dropping them on the counter before he nudged the bathroom door shut behind them.

"Not exactly, but I'll show you what _is,"_ he laughed back, stealing another kiss as he turned the water on. "I'm guessing you like it hot?"

Oh, now that was a loaded question if she'd ever heard one. She grinned wickedly up at him; one thing she'd discovered with him in her life, nearly every word that passed his lips was a grenade. The first round had happened so fast, it barely took the edge off her hunger for him. How was it he did this to her so easily? "I can take it as hot as you can handle." The retort in her voice and the way her lips curled just screamed challenge as steam began to fill the bathroom. The euphoria of just being able to say exactly what she thought around him with very little chance of ruining his image of her now was becoming the worst kind of aphrodisiac. "Think you're up to it?"

A grin, and Jay pulled her into the shower, the stall plenty big enough for two people, or more even, just as the shower off of her bathroom down the hall had been, clearly designed for luxury or depravity or both. Either way, first priority was to get all the glitter off. It was bad enough that she was going to have to call the cleaning service to get to the damage this had caused at the house before she and Sebast went back home on their next break. No way was there going to be time tonight to repair it. Although wouldn't that look so suspicious to Chupi… An evil little part of her brain considered it before she shoved that part of her life out of her mind for the time being. Not a difficult thing to do, in her current situation.

Kala immediately stepped under the water—God, so perfectly hot, she thought with a happy groan—and leaned up to get closer, soaking her hair through, letting the spray wash away her face makeup, working the white frost and even more glitter loose. Heaven. There were days she could just live in the shower, the slide of the water over her skin one of the most relaxing experiences for her.

Apparently Jay had other ideas, though, and pushed her back against one of the tiled walls, ducking under the spray himself on the way to flatten himself against her and kiss her thoroughly, water sluicing down over both their faces. The spike of lust that shot through her then took her breath away. Jesus, it was absolutely ridiculous how much she wanted him.

Breaking the kiss in favor of air, she chuckled. "Good thing I wore waterproof mascara and liner or this wouldn't look this good. You certainly don't waste any time, do you?"

Jay dropped a kiss on her nose and smirked. "Nope."

It occurred to her then that, hot as this was making her, there was very little possibility that he had a secret shower compartment to squirrel away protection, so scaling back on the hormones for now was a must. Unfortunately. Right, keep her head straight when they were naked in the shower and the proof he wanted her was right there. Uh-huh, sure. Kala took a deep breath then, sighing. _Damn._ "Gonna hate this newsflash, Jaybird, but we have a problem: we're in here to wash off the glitter, and you don't exactly have anything handy to do anything else, so here," she said with a forced cool amusement, grabbing a bottle of shampoo off of the shelf next to her. "Make yourself useful. Get to washing."

With that and a wicked look, she shoved the bottle at Jay, sending him back through the spray to the other side of the shower. A mildly confused expression moved over his face, but he uncapped the bottle and squeezed some shampoo into his hand before tossing the bottle back and reaching up to lather his hair and scrub his face.

Kala could only laugh, squeezing out enough shampoo for her own hair and setting the bottle aside. "I meant _me,_ Red."

Ducking under the water to rinse off, Jay pouted. "Hey, you weren't exactly specific, there. But I can happily oblige," he finished, stepping through the spray and swiping his hands over his hair and face so he could see again. Tugging her arms down from where she was still working the shampoo in, he turned her around and took over, his fingers sliding through her hair with seemingly practiced ease, tips massaging her scalp in sure circles.

A happy little groan escaping her at the way his hands worked, Kala leaned with her palms against the wall, dropping her head back and squeezing her eyes shut. Yet another hidden talent ferreted out unexpectedly. No matter how tough they were, having her hair played with had to be the worst weaknesses that could be used against a woman. Seriously. There just were no words for how good that felt. "You've clearly done this before," she murmured, just letting herself enjoy it.

Jay hummed in reply, and tugged her back to maneuver her under the spray and wash the shampoo out. "Fuck, that's a lot of glitter," he chuckled as he carded his fingers through her hair, rinsing it. "What'd you do, take a bath in it beforehand?"

"Careful, you. It was all done for your benefit. No one could have known that was me under all of that." With the way her body was relaxing in response to his touch, she didn't have it in her to string that many more words together, anyway, and instead opted to grab the body wash and a loofah from the shelf and pass them over her shoulder with a smirk. "Need instructions this time?" she teased him.

Another chuckle, and Jay got to work, scrubbing her back with firm strokes and circles, his free hand working the muscles of her neck and shoulder before he switched hands. "Be lucky if we don't clog the drain," he teased back. "How's that?"

It was Kala's turn to hum, feeling looser than she had in weeks, and reached up to lean against the wall again. Oh, maybe this hadn't been the best idea to keep her mind off the things she really wanted to be doing. And the fact that she knew they shouldn't? Only making it worse. Question was, did she really care?

"I'll take that as an 'awesome'," Jay said, before moving to scrub down her sides. "And that?"

 _Oh God._ It should be illegal for something to feel that good. It didn't help that this was moving slowly from soothing to tantalizing as hell. Although her brain had made its decision about current events, it was clear that her body had other plans. And the tease of it was irresistible. Unable to stop herself from arching into his touch, Kala sighed. "Perfect."

"And this?" he asked, moving close behind her as he abandoned the loofah and reached around to soap up her front.

Her nerve-endings roared to life, the reaction like standing before a blast-furnace. Shit. So much for the illusion of controlling herself. Kala gasped, a broken little moan crossing her lips in the next breath, leaning her head back against his shoulder as his touch sent sparks straight to her center. "Oh yes," she breathed, knowing how needy she sounded but not caring. "Jay…" But then he slid one hand down to her hip and the other down her belly. She couldn't breathe, anticipating the touch before he was even close to where she needed him. The steaming spray rinsed all the soap from his skin on the way.

"And … this?" Then he was _right there_. The world went red, her knees threatening to buckle on her, any attempt at control utterly lost. This … oh, _this_ was what she'd wanted all summer and told herself she'd never have, washing the dirt and grime of the Gotham night off her skin. The things they'd played at, taunted about, winding each other up and letting go. The nights of lying in bed, telling herself she was an idiot for even considering it. Even if it was just a level of attraction that made her body ache longingly. He couldn't ever know just how badly she'd needed him that first night, fear and uncertainty and desire binding up so tight that she couldn't breathe. She'd had to have everything he could give her in that apartment, overwhelmed that he'd actually wanted her and determined to blot out the mess in her life with every inch of him. And she had. Oh, she had.

She'd never in her life felt this shameless, everything in her world narrowing down to the lust that tore at her as he touched her. A craven whimper escaped Kala, and she molded her body against Jay again, her eyes fluttering closed as his mouth worked its way up her neck to her ear, biting and kissing in turn. Shivers raced across her skin; how could he know just from one night exactly how to drive her completely mad? All the powers in the world were no match for what he was doing to her and she wanted no defense. Needed no defense. She gave in completely to this. Her voice was small and breathless when she whimpered, "Don't stop. God, don't stop. I need this… Please, Jay…"

"Oh, I have no intention of stopping," he chuckled, his lips brushing the shell of her ear and sending a fresh wave of shivers down her back, gooseflesh rising on her skin with them.

Whimpering again, she couldn't help the way her body writhed against his, moving with him, chasing that touch. There was something about them together she couldn't get enough of. Never enough. Anything else she tried to say at that point devolved into wordless keening, his voice a low murmur of encouragement in her ear, filthy things falling from his lips in a grotesque litany that might as well have been roses and poetry, for the way it all went right to her core. Trusting him, she let herself cling to him as the world began to go white with heat.

A wrecked sob tearing from her throat, Kala flew apart, every cell singing in ecstasy and utter release, and it was all she could do to keep from collapsing right there, her knees turning to jello as wave after wave of pleasure rocked her.

Jay chuckled in her ear again, sliding his fingers free of her and wrapping his arms around her to hold her up. "Lucky the only other person home is Alfred," he murmured. "The way you scream, it would've alerted the whole damn household."

A flare of embarrassment blazed over her for a moment at that, even as she shivered again, letting him support her. But the flare was followed by a spark of righteous indignation, and she got her legs working again in short order and turned in Jay's arms to wrap her own around his neck and kiss him quickly. "You're not exactly quiet, either, you know," she shot back at him, her color still high. "I seem to remember quite a bit of howling down in the garage. Not to mention back at the apartment several times the other week."

Jay actually had the gall to look sheepish at that. "Yeah, well, what can I say?" he shrugged slightly. "You got an effect on me."

"An effect? Was that was it was? I think we both know that was a little more than an _effect_ ," Kala couldn't help chuckling, just seeing the way he averted his gaze and looked for the world like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. She arched one dark brow as she let her smile taunt him. "I just about thought you were gonna go all feral on me with all that growling and roaring."

At that, Jay's expression turned wicked, his eyes darting up to fix hers with an intense gleam. "Hey, you run with the Big Bad Wolf, this is what you get," he said, backing her up against the wall and pinning her in place as he dipped his head to kiss her hard.

Smiling against his mouth, she replied when she could, "Maybe I should find a way to start wearing a red cape, after all, in that case. Would at least make the phrase a little more true. Little Red Riding Hood and all that."

Jay nipped at her bottom lip and chuckled salaciously. "No capes necessary. Just rearrange the wording a little, and you can be Riding Red Hood tonight."

"Oh my God, Jay!" Kala couldn't look him in the eye at that, dissolving into laughter.

"Hey, you seemed pretty good at it back at my place," he taunted, catching her chin and kissing her again. The reminder—in the chair, smoking one of his cigarettes, and then rising up to sink back down on him—heated her blood and gave her wicked ideas.

Still laughing into the kiss, Kala slid a hand down his chest, drawing a gasp out of him and knocking their teeth together in the process. They both devolved into snickers at that, before Jay whimpered as she stroked him, and dropped his head to her shoulder. She reveled in the sudden surge of power she felt at his reaction, leaning her cheek against his wet hair as she whispered softly, "You didn't think I was going just leave you like that, did you? Give me some credit, Red. I've wanted—" Startled by an unexpected sound, she broke off, wide-eyed.

"— _is all this? Who shot Tinkerbell in here?"_ a voice said, entirely too close inside Kala's range of hearing. Freezing, she realized it was Dick, and he wasn't alone.

" _Looks like Jay came back here after all. He'll be cleaning this up for a week,"_ another voice said. Bruce, that was Bruce. Oh God, who knew how much hell it was going to cause if everyone else had figured out she was here.

" _Did you see who he left with?_ " Tim, this time.

Kala held her breath, her heart starting to pound with a spike of adrenaline, until Dick replied, _"Somebody in a Snow Queen costume, maybe? Thought I saw him dancing with her, but I didn't think he'd be into any of the society girls. Never happened before now, but you know Jay. He'd do it just because we'd think he wouldn't."_

She hadn't doubted Babs would keep her word, and Alfred was sworn to secrecy. The boys didn't have the slightest clue what was actually going on, although she knew that the evidence there was out of character for him. Dick was right about that point. Unable to help herself, Kala grinned against his temple. None of them had any idea who the mystery girl was or exactly where they were at this moment, though. Just some random, anonymous hook-up. Bruce's biggest complaint was going to be a security breach, if that. _Good._

"'S wrong?" Jay panted in her ear.

Dammit. So her attention had flagged a little more than she'd thought. Dragging her focus back to the here and now, Kala got a wild idea, the fear of being caught here losing out to the possibility of a challenge. Nuzzling her nose against his jaw, she just let herself enjoy him. "Oh, nothing," she murmured huskily, letting her hand go back to what she'd been doing. "You have my full attention now. It's just … Jay, Alfred _isn't_ the only one home."

The best response he could give to that was a slightly confused, "Hmm?" But then, she'd refocused his attention quite effectively.

Turning to whisper in his ear above the sound of the water still sluicing over them both, Kala told him, "The rest of the boys just got home. Uncle Bruce is talking about the glitter clean-up. They're all wondering who you came home with." She picked up the pace and the pressure just a bit at that, one ear still tuned to the garage, the situation making her breath come just as fast as his.

Jay managed to laugh at that. "Wouldn't _they_ like to know."

"I don't think they actually suspect who it is. But I wonder how long it would take them to figure it out," she replied. Kala knew the warmth of the water, her knowing touch, and her wicked voice would bring him to the edge in no time. It wasn't as if she hadn't been in situations like this before, but she was amazed just how much excitement came from knowing that the world's greatest detectives were downstairs trying to figure who Jay had come home with. "I don't even know what they'd say if they knew it was _me_ you were up here with, do you?"

He growled against her skin, thrusting his hips against her, and she purred in delight. "Never believe it," he gasped.

The words were spoken aloud before she even considered them. "What, that I'd have a shot in hell, or that _you_ would? Because I have news for them. I've wanted to do this for a while, but didn't know what you'd do, what you'd say if you knew. I figured I was over-stepping my bounds. And I wasn't going to go there until you did," Kala purred, feeling flushed and feverish all over again, and he groaned as she continued a slow pace. Slow, slow, make it last. And to think she hadn't been sure if he really wanted her even a month ago. "Your birthday wasn't the first time I considered it, Jay. Who knows what could have happened if Babs hadn't called us, that night on the mats? Then again, feels like you wanted me to go about as much as I really wanted to leave." Pride was spiked through with want at the sound. Here she was, in Wayne Manor with all of the Bats downstairs, driving the goddamn Red Hood out of his mind. Her blood pounded in her veins, her heart racing. She didn't know what it was about him that brought out this reckless side in her, but right now she never wanted to be without it.

Biting her lip to hold back a whimper of her own, her voice was low and breathless again as she continued, "Or is this something stupid like me being too good for you because of my family legacy, because that's bullshit. A pedigree has absolutely zero to do with who I am. I'm just flesh and blood. And wanting you again right this moment. If they think I couldn't possibly want you, they need a fucking reality check. Because I've never wanted anyone so bad in my life and I plan to have you at least one more time before the night's over."

She'd never been that graphic with anyone, not even mad with desire. Not even with Sebast. Even as that night swam into her mind, she shoved it ruthlessly away. A drunken night, never spoken of again, had no place here. Not now, not with Jay panting harshly against her neck, not with the proof of his desire all too tangible. Kissing him just beneath the ear, Kala breathed her next words against his skin, "Better hurry up, Red. Tim and Dick are on their way upstairs to change, Bruce is talking to Alfred, and the last thing we need is for them to hear you baying up here."

"Surprised they didn't hear _you_ outside," he managed to rasp, bucking against her grip on him. By his ragged tone, he was close.

That was enough to make her eyes roll back at the rough sound of his voice and the feel of him. Her cheek didn't feel quite as hot pressed to his wet skin. The need had become mutual as she teased, varying speed just a bit while they both gasped. When had she last felt this thoroughly wicked and this aroused? All the more so when a stray thought occurred to her. Her laugh was low and wanton and the opposite of anything a girl like her was supposed to sound like.

"I know what you're thinking, Red. You could have taken me back to the bunker or the apartment, but you didn't. We came here for the same reason you made a point of us passing by Dick before we left the gala. We're still hiding in plain sight, aren't we? And it has its own special thrill," Kala whispered, her own breath coming in sharp, fast pants now. "Keeping secrets from the whole Bat-clan, hiding things from the best detectives in the League, beating them at their own game … that's addictive, isn't it? Knowing you know something they don't. Having Supergirl in all defiance under _his_ roof because no one thought you would, and you thought I was Dick's flavor of the week when you first saw me."

Faster now, determined to drive him over. Lips against his ear, whispering. "He's gorgeous, but he wasn't the one I wanted. God, I wanted you so damn bad that last night I could barely stand it. Jay, please. Come on, for me." She nipped his earlobe on impulse at that, and felt him shudder against her. _Nearly there…_

With a gasp, he gripped her arms tightly, thrusting into her grip harder, his breath ragged and little whimpers escaping him. "Think … you're the … only one?" he gasped. "Drove me … fucking _insane,"_ he finished through gritted teeth, and Kala felt him shudder, the barest hint of a howl loosing from his throat as he came. She slowed the pace, letting him ride it out.

Both of them were shivering in spite of the warm water by the end. Kala herself needed a minute to calm down after that; he got to her in all sorts of ways she didn't want to admit. Hell, if anything he'd gotten her to tell truths about her training that she'd never planned to reveal. But the trade-off was worth it, she thought as she snuggled closer to him, angling them both back into the spray of water, both still breathing quickly. Grinning to herself with complete satisfaction, Kala chuckled softly, the realization that she hadn't been the only one driven to distraction all summer striking her square in the chest.

At the moment, she didn't have time to relish the revelation, if the chatter on the hall was to be believed. Kala turned her head to kiss Jay's cheek, nudging her shoulder against his chest. "Shit. C'mon, Jay. Maybe I shouldn't have teased about it; we might actually be in some trouble. Tim's heading up the hall, telling Dick he's gonna kick your door down and demand an explanation, so you should really get with the program. Sounds like everyone really _is_ thinking of it as a security breach."

"The hell with all of them," Jay said huskily. "They let _me_ in, anything else is just icing on the cake. Worst case, Timmy'll have an aneurysm."

Kala snickered at that. "And if he does kick the door down while I'm in here?"

A spark leapt up in his eyes then. "He'll get a big damn surprise if he does. Might do the kid good, who knows." Obviously teasing, but two could play that game.

"I mean, I could always walk out there in your shirt and tell him it's me. Because, from the sounds of things, they think you may still have her up here. And you _did_ bring her back without authorization." Kala had exactly zero intentions of doing more than messing with his head a little. Smirking, she waited for him to look up and see the devilish gleam in her eyes. The high-spirited mood she was in right now, she might just change her mind and do it. At the moment, she felt like she could take on the world.

As expected—hoped—Jay lifted his head and met her gaze, his own eyes wide with sudden terror. "You wouldn't. And they don't," he sputtered. "They fucking know better. And you wouldn't."

Kala couldn't resist a laugh as her lips curled with dark amusement, lifting an eyebrow at his distress. "Oh, wouldn't I? Would that ruin the fun for you, Red? Having to own up to having been with me?" There was a little flutter of fear in the pit of her belly then, but she refused to pay it mind.

Jay blew a breath out his nose, pursing his lips as he seemed to get himself in check, and raised an eyebrow to match hers. "All right then. I _dare_ you."

That stopped the tease cold, hazel eyes losing their heated light when she processed what he'd said. "What!?" Kala gaped up at him, his sudden shift throwing her off-balance.

"You heard me. I dare you. I dare you to put on nothing but one of my shirts and go out there and bitch out my brothers," Jay said, his voice even and clearly dead serious.

It only took a moment to realize what he was doing before the grin was back. So it was gonna be a game of chicken, then. That he would call her bluff should have been expected. All right then, Kala could play that game as good as anybody, surely as well as Jay. With a slow smile, she smoothed her hands up his sides and reached up on tip toes to kiss him. "Okay," she said as she ducked out from between him and the wall and rinsed off quickly. "You don't believe I'll do it? Fine. I'll just go out there, scare the ever-loving shit out of my brother's best friend, and then the whole family will know just what we've been up to. That should calm him down about the security breach. The only suck is that you have to own up to me. But it'll calm them down that it's someone who has clearance, right? Sound good?"

Turning to lean back against the tiled wall and cross his arms over his chest, Jay just smirked. "Yep, sounds good."

"Good," Kala nodded just as casually. Stepping out of the shower, she grabbed a towel off the rack and dried off before wrapping her hair up and heading out to Jay's bedroom without a stitch on. _He's trying to call my bluff. God, figures._ _Maybe I can get him to renege before I get out there._ "All right, then. Shirt's in the closet, right? One of your white tees, maybe? I mean, you don't really leave any of the Hood uniforms up here, so that's the next most obvious. Thank God the shirt will run long on me, at least. Hopefully it'll dry quick. Then again, it's not like it's transparent or anything," she shot back over her shoulder as she went, catching the way his face drained of color as he finished rinsing off.

And yet he still didn't call her off. _Oh, you ass. Freaked or not, you won't give. Fine, I'll up the ante_. "We've gotta make it convincing, right? I mean, if we want them to know, there's no point in hiding what we've been doing. Just think of it this way; as much fun as this has been, at least now you won't have to deal with Uncle Bruce not knowing what I'm doing in the city. I'm sure this isn't the first time something like this has happened. Maybe it's better that way."

But just as she reached the closet and opened the door, Jay rushed out of the bathroom, still dripping from the shower, and caught her around the waist to drag her away from it and fling her down on the bed, chasing after her and pinning her arms up over her head as his knees hit the mattress on either side of her hips. Her heartbeat sped up then, staring up at him with eyes that were even now darkening again. One simple, impossible threat and she'd gotten just what she wanted. "Don't you _dare,"_ he hissed, leaning down to drop a kiss on her lips, his expression intense. "I don't actually want to kill the kid. Don't feel much like sharing this view, either."

That finally cracked Kala's control, and she broke down into genuine laughter. " I win! Oh God, Jay, you are so _easy_." His aggravated expression made her giggle a tiny bit more. "Oh, don't give me that look. I'm sorry. I wasn't teasing on one thing, though. You may want to come up with a cover since Dick got a better look than you thought. Better invent some story about some little debutante because I promise you that you'll be hearing about it. Nobody was really thrilled over the glitter-bombing, Bruce especially. And Dick _did_ have to convince Tim not to come up here." Her lips quirked into a taunting little grin as she looked up at him. "He said to leave you alone right now. It was about time you got laid properly anyway."

A growl rumbled up from Jay's chest at that, Kala giving a tiny shriek of laughter as did it, and he dove back down to kiss her deeply, pressing her into the bed and rolling his hips against her. All amusement fled to parts unknown. Her body responded immediately, palms sliding over his shoulders while she arched up into him. There was something to be said for getting what you wanted without a fight in between.

"Mmm … wow," she breathed as he broke the kiss for air, their eyes meeting again. Hers were lazy and warm now, running her fingernails lightly over his damp back. "Guess I'm not the only one working on a backlog, here. Dick must've had a point. Have you really missed me that much?"

"Dick has no idea what he's talking about," Jay countered as he rose up so they could shift up properly onto the bed.

"Sure, he doesn't," Kala nodded, not even remotely buying that. If anything, the knowledge that he hadn't taken up with anyone beyond her in either interim stoked her desire even more. Her lips curved in an insolent smile then. "I mean, I must not have made enough of an impression after last time for the boys to notice the differences. I guess that, if you can leave a little time where you can pencil me in, I'm just gonna have to come back as often as I can so we can work on that backlog, aren't I? I mean, it's not like you don't know my number or anything."

As Jay settled in next to her, pulling her close to nuzzle into her neck and slide a leg between hers, he chuckled. "You'd damn well better."

"Oh, I think I can find a way to manage that, here and there. I'm not under lock and key _all_ the time." she replied, moving with him to reach down and grab his ass, tugging him even tighter against her to grind down onto his thigh. "I just have to occasionally see if you'll put Lady Gotham on hold long enough for you to maybe cheat on her a little. Hopefully she won't even notice for a few hours." Looking up at him then, reaching up to run the back of her hand across his cheek, she whispered, "But only if you want me to."

"Fucking _evil,"_ Jay groaned, moving to kiss her again and run a hand down her side to her hip to squeeze hard.

"Every chance I get, if you'll let me." Moaning softly into the kiss, gasping into his neck, Kala decided this was the best thing she could've done tonight, and let herself get lost in the feeling of his hands on her, the rest of the world and all of its petty inconveniences a million miles away.

…

Jay would never tell Kala that, waterproof mascara aside, her makeup had run everywhere while they were in the shower; most of it was off now, but for a few minutes there her cheeks had been heavily streaked with her blue and white eyeshadow. Not that he cared. He'd gladly have her with makeup, without makeup, fresh from a shower, or filthy from a fight. Anyway he could get her.

And since she was teasing about fucking someone evil, making a coy reference to his reputation, he had to mouth off about hers. "Guess that means I'm fucking good," Jay growled back, nipping her collarbone.

"That you are," she replied huskily, and gasped as he slid down her body. His mouth paused at her breasts, her belly, the curve of her hip, lighting her up with each kiss and nibble. Kala writhed deliciously under the attention. Did she even know how fucking gratifying that was, Supergirl arching up into his touch, his kiss?

Now that he'd gone off twice in the last hour, he had to take a little break before even thinking about round three. And Jay had just the idea how to fill that time. Something he very much enjoyed doing, and hadn't quite gotten the chance with Kala yet, his hunger for her too intense to be savored slowly.

He slid lower down her body, slipping both arms under her legs and up to grasp her hips. Kala gasped, a faint startled " _oh fuck_ " slipping from her lips even before he pressed his lips against her in that sweetest of kisses.

And it _was_ sweet; she didn't quite taste like other women, a note of difference that probably went right along with the body heat and the other Kryptonian traits. Jay paused to taste, slowly, remembering the first time that first night when he'd been so hurried and greedy. He hadn't noticed it then, but… "You taste like sunlight," he murmured.

Kala gave a low cry at that, spine arching, as if it was the single sexiest thing anyone had ever said to her. Jay let her feel his smile before _really_ setting to work again.

He could do this all night, if she let him.

…

It was several hours later that Kala's eyes shot open, something in her subconscious pushing her to wakefulness even as she tried to fight it. At her back, she felt could feel the warmth of him, skin against skin, an arm around her waist and his face in her hair. Still in Gotham. Still with Jay. That brought on a drowsy smile. It had to be very late, or extremely early. She lay there in the darkness for a long moment, just enjoying the barest warmth flickering in her cells. Not dawn yet, but the hour was drawing closer…

And then she let out a sigh, staring at the ceiling. Like it or not, if she was starting to feel that tingle in her veins, it was time to get going. She had no good excuse for being out alone into the morning hours, leaving poor sick Sebast and the boys to their own devices. There was no choice; staying for coffee like last time wasn't an option. Kala found herself loath to get up, rolling carefully onto her side to face Jay.

He was deeply asleep, most of the tension drained from him by exhaustion, and it made her smile again to see it; completely and wholly her fault and she had no problems owning up to it. In the few months she'd known him, she couldn't remember once seeing him look this young. Knowing he was out like a light, knowing she had to leave, Kala reached out and ran the tips of her fingers over the line of his jaw. The last three and a half months had crept up on her and she had never seen them coming. She had never seen any of this with the Bats coming. And Jay? She'd never intended to even like him in the first place; how in the name of all that was holy had they ended up here? A grin snuck up on her, Kala laughing at herself for the wave of affection that rose up in her as she watched his sleeping face. Well, the answer to that should've been obvious. He was one of the most gorgeous things she'd ever seen and one of the worst teases she'd ever met, not to even go into what she liked about him personally. And even that was oversimplifying it in an epic way. How could she have resisted for much longer?

Taking one last look at him, she forced herself out of bed, careful not to wake him. A glance at the alarm clock told her that it was shortly after four, and she quickly gathered her disheveled gown and accessories, knowing she'd have to brave the hall to retrieve a few things that she'd left behind in her room here. A duffel bag to shove the dress in, one of the two pairs of jeans she kept here for emergency back-ups, and a shirt. She'd be covered in glitter again by the time she hit Metropolis city limits, but she intended to shower again once she dropped her costume back at the house. With luck, her hair would be dry by the time she let herself back into the hotel.

Once she had her burdens in hand, she quietly made her way to the door, but paused with her hand on the knob and glanced back over to the bed. Kala felt a twinge of guilt; it felt so wrong to just sneak out in the middle of the night while he slept. Smacked too much of using someone. She knew that the boys in the band did this sort of thing regularly, but she hated leaving him like this without a word, especially when she'd just swept in unannounced the way she had. A part of her felt like a fool for making such a big deal of it, since Jay likely wouldn't care either way. He knew she'd be back; she's said as much already. But to go without a word, in the dead of night, when she'd been here when he woke last time…

Tossing her belongings into a chair, she used her enhanced vision to find a slip of paper in the room and a pen, jotting down a quick note. Then, considering her words once they were down, she stole to the closet and pulled out an article of clothing, slipping the over-sized white t-shirt over her head. Telling herself that it was because she'd only left a couple of shirts behind here as well, she slipped her crystal crown off the bedpost and walked back over to his side of the bed. Placing the note on the nightstand, she left the crown next to it with a small smile. Might as well leave him his trophy—though for the moment she'd forgotten the mask hanging on the bike and the pearls on the bathroom counter. Jay was still sleeping like the dead, so she leaned down and brushed his hair back from his brow and gently kissed his forehead. "Sweet dreams, Red. Miss you already."

The moment she did it, she felt like an idiot. It had been a while since she'd felt this good and the blame could be laid entirely at his feet. Laughing at herself, Kala rolled her eyes while hoisting her burdens again.

Resolutely, she pushed away those worries to concentrate on sneaking back out the way she came after the side-trip for additional supplies. No time to get her spares from Jay's, anyway, so those in her room were the only option, because she sure as hell wasn't flying back to Metropolis in this. Completely bare from mid-thigh and beneath could only be a recipe for disaster. That brought on a grin. Oh yeah, that was all she needed. Silently she let herself out of the room and back into her real life. With any luck, she'd make it back in time to beat the boys in. If not, there were excuses to give, not that she needed any.

…

As soon as the morning sun peeked through the curtains and hit him square in the face, Jay groaned, not ready to face the day yet. Not when he still had—

Reaching up, he patted the bed next to him, finding the sheets and pillow cool. No warmth of smooth skin met him. No dark hair spilling over the pillowcase for him to run his fingers through. No sunshine smile to greet him as he blinked, waking with a start to realize he was alone in the bed.

Kala wasn't there, and by the coolness of the bed, she'd been gone a few hours at least.

Sitting up, Jay scrubbed a hand over his eyes to banish the last of the grogginess, then did a visual sweep of his room. Her costume was gone. But the towels and the glitter on the floor—holy fuck, there was glitter _everywhere_ —told him that at least the previous night hadn't been some crazy delusion. She'd been there, and they'd … shit, they'd fucked on his bike, in the shower, and for half the night in the bed. It'd be a miracle if he didn't have glitter in intimate places. Hell, he probably did.

Dammit, Alfred was gonna murder him.

Scrubbing a hand over his face again with a groan, Jay finally noticed the one thing Kala had left behind. Well, the two things. Placed neatly on his night stand was the crown of her costume, shining as the morning sun struck the faux jewels and the glitter and silver filigree. The thing was practically a disco ball, throwing sparkles of light in all directions. And tucked slightly beneath it, there was a hastily-written note. Looked like it wasn't going to be a morning-after text this time, after all.

Gently, Jay plucked the note from the night stand to read it.

 _Phantom,_

 _I could get used to running with the Big Bad Wolf more often. Will look into that cape, anyway. Miss me._

 _Your Snow Queen_

A croaking laugh escaped him at that, and he couldn't help the slow grin that moved over his face. He was looking forward to her next visit already.


	52. Keep with Me Forward All Through

Sebast was up at four in the morning, his whole face feeling stuffy and _blargh_. This cold was a stone bitch, and he couldn't throw enough vitamin C and zinc at it. Shit, if this kept up he'd resort to _abuelita's_ cherished remedy and slather himself in Vick's Vapor-Rub. At this point he was just waiting to take his next dose of NyQuil and pass out for a few hours. He only had one more day before the next show, and he was going to _have_ to dose himself to the gills and lip-synch if he was still sick then. The show must go on, after all. Enough Sudafed and he might pass for a normal human being for three hours.

The worst part about it was realizing that Kala had gone out early in the night. Her room was right next to his, to keep her from catching this, and one annoying side effect of having the plague in his sinuses was how it made him more sensitive to every sound. He'd heard her leave, he could hear Robb snoring on the other side, he would've heard Kala if she came in.

So she was _still_ out. That was very unlike her. He'd sent a couple joking texts as the hour grew later, bemoaning the fact that she was probably dancing somewhere without him. But the clubs were mostly closed by now, it was so late it was early, and Sebast had to face facts.

Kala was most likely in someone else's bed. Right now.

She hadn't told him she was seeing someone. So was it a _groupie_? Kala _never_ did that. Although, if that's what was going on, maybe that's why she hadn't told him. All the times she'd given him grief about his 'public relations', she had to expect some retribution if she was dipping into the same well. At this point he wouldn't even give her any crap about it, if she'd just _tell him_ what was happening. The silence between them sucked.

His phone chirped, letting him know it'd been exactly four hours since his last dosage, and Sebast poured a measure of violently orange medicine, chugging it down. He felt drowsy almost immediately, but worry over Kala followed him down into sleep.

He woke when she came in at long last, opening bleary eyes to see her putting down a big glass of mango juice and a fruit tray on the bedside table. "Kala?" Sebast said, starting to sit up.

"Hush, plague-boy," she told him softly, love and concern in her voice. "I know I'm not supposed to be in here, but I had to make sure you were okay. Here, eat something healthy. Vitamin C from food works better than it does from pills."

"You're an angel," Sebast murmured, smiling sleepily at her.

" _Far_ from it, Gomez," she laughed, and touched his forehead lightly. "At least the fever broke. You're getting better just in time."

"'Cause I have a good nurse," he told her, and added, " _Te amo,_ Morticia."

It might be the drugs or the cold, but for a second Kala looked heartbroken at those words. " _Te amo_ ," she replied, bending for a quick kiss to his forehead. "I'll see you in the morning, Sebast."

…

Dick's phone rang as he got up the morning after the masquerade ball, and he grinned to see the number listed. "Hey, Don," he answered with a smile.

"Whose _incredibly stupid_ idea was it to let _Jay_ train her?!" she demanded, her voice almost a squeak. "And why did I find out from _Roy_ instead of _you,_ the guy who was _there_ the whole summer watching it happen? When you and I talk regularly and you _know_ the whole reason she went out there was because _I_ said something to her?"

Dick sighed, and sat down on a convenient ledge. "It was Jay's idea," Dick said, honestly. "Bruce and Babs agreed to it, over my objections. And the worst part is, they were _right_."

"That is _completely_ insane," Donna groused. "Dick, really? Also I still want an answer as to why you didn't just _tell me_."

He took a deep breath. "Donna, you know I love you, right?" She went very quiet at that, and he continued, "No one told you because it's not your business, _palone_. Not really mine either. You and me, we're not running the JLA. We're not running the Titans anymore either. And I don't run Gotham, that's for sure."

"I see," she said, her voice brittle.

"You don't have to bear the weight of the whole world on your shoulders, Donna," Dick continued gently. "I know why you try to, but you don't _have_ to. It's okay to let other people make the call on stuff like this."

"You still should have told me," she said in a small voice.

"I knew it would upset you," Dick said. It would also upset her if he told her Jay was bringing society girls home from Wayne functions. Dick had heard the vacuum running, and grinned to think of Jay trying to hide all that glitter.

"Yeah, and you're not good with upsetting people, even when you know you should." He flinched from that, knowing exactly what she meant. When he showed up to Clock Tower after being off-planet for six months, he really, _really_ should've told Babs about the damn _wedding invitation_ in his bag. The one he was bringing to her.

The one inviting her to his wedding.

To Kori.

He'd gone to bed with Babs, instead, which ultimately slammed the doors on _that_ relationship. And wrecked what he had with Kori, too. It was easily the stupidest thing he'd ever done in a life peppered with dubious decisions, and he regretted it to this day. Babs did not suffer fools, Dick had known that since he was Robin and she was Batgirl, and while she still cared for him and they still worked together, that one thoughtless act would never be entirely forgiven. Kori, whose people were more commonly polyamorous, understood how he could love her and Babs at the same time – but not how he could behave so selfishly. She had been more angry at him for not telling Babs about their relationship than she was for him not asking her if she minded him sleeping with Babs. The worst part was, she _didn't_ mind, but she had no tolerance for deceit.

All he said to Donna was, "Ouch."

A beat of silence before she said, "You didn't deserve that."

"I probably did," Dick replied. "And it wasn't untrue. Donna … I know, better than Jay or Kala do, why this upsets you. But I also know that what you're worried about just isn't the case. Kala isn't going to fly off the handle. Bruce and Babs really _were_ right, it was the best thing for both of them. Training Kala brought Jay back into the Manor – Babs started that, getting him to work with us, but he didn't start staying over until he was working with K. And learning from Jay taught Kala how to stay level no matter what. I worked with her before and after, Don. She's a pro. _You'd_ like her, if you ran a mission with her now."

"And that's the highest praise you can offer," Donna said, a trifle sardonic.

"You're by the book, babe, and she follows procedure now. Babs drilled that into her," Dick said, with the ghost of a smile. "Kala was fine when we went up against Joker, and he _kryptonited_ her. She's good. Really good. And she's on the reserves list, so you probably _will_ get to work with her."

Donna moved the phone away so she could sigh loudly and not blow out his earpiece. "You said she went against Joker. How crazy did _that_ get?"

Dick hedged, just a little. Donna didn't know about the Nevada protocol, and if she did, she'd _really_ lose her cool. It wasn't something that the entire community needed to know about, anyway. Kala wasn't dangerous, Dick believed that all the way to the bottom of his soul. She could be intimidating, she wasn't going to take any of Bruce's Bat-crap, but she was too much her father's daughter to hurt a friend. Kala might not believe that, but Dick did. Despite the Goth fashion and her taste in horror movies, Kala was sunny, not scary.

"Everybody made it home in one piece," Dick said. "Jay got a small cut, trying to protect her from the kryptonite, but it wasn't a big deal. Kala recovered pretty quickly, and I don't think Joker even knew that's what affected her. No civilians harmed, the only casualty is one of Joker's thugs the Clown himself killed, and not even any property damage. All the bad guys ended up back in jail or Arkham, more or less okay."

"Someone in Gotham really needs to do something about your legal system," Donna muttered. "Arkham is a revolving door. And the Joker is not just insane; he certainly knows he's doing evil."

"He knows enough to game the system," Dick replied. "He knew _that_ even before he met Harley, and she's an actual psychiatrist. No one is going to judge him competent to stand trial. Every man on the street knows he's more dangerous than crazy, but to a professional, he shows clear signs of insanity. Besides, they know the jail can't hold him."

"Neither can Arkham," Donna shot back. "Something has to be done about making it more secure."

Dick sighed, having had this argument before. "Wayne Enterprises _does_ try, but the people we have locked up aren't exactly stupid. There are more card-carrying geniuses with doctorate degrees in Arkham's cells than in its admin building, most days. And all they do, all day, is plan ways to break out. There's no winning this arms race, Donna. Just staying far enough ahead to keep running."

She echoed the sigh, and Dick could practically see her shaking her head. "I'm just telling you, letting Supergirl run around with Red Hood is going to have unforeseen consequences."

"Just like everything else," Dick quipped, and turned the conversation to safer topics.

…

For a wonder, none of them gave Jay grief for bringing the girl home. All Bruce wanted to know was if she was still in the house, but Jay had rolled his eyes and said no, of course not. Timmy kept frowning at him, and Dick grinned salaciously. That was the extent of it. Heh, if only they knew. He tried not to smirk the whole time he cleaned up the garage under Alfred's direction, and then escaped the Manor for the day. With the case he was following at the moment, it'd be good to do some computer research, and Jay knew were to go for _that._

Hacking with Babs was _fun_ , Jay had learned. He knew some programming already, but jeez, she made him look like a noob. Sometimes one of her Birds would drop by with food, sometimes they all swapped intel along the way, but he mostly showed up for the thrill of it. The bad guys kept their money hidden offshore or in shell corporations, and Jay was getting a kick out of finding all those illicit accounts.

And later on he'd be skimming a little off them, on the way, bouncing it around before it landed in his own coffers. No way it could be traced back to him, once he was done finessing it. Jay didn't currently have an income other than what he lifted from the dealers he busted, and a little financial stability never hurt anybody.

Well, there was a _very_ large bank account out there, with a platinum card attached to it, but Jay didn't use those funds anymore. Sooner or later Talia would drain that account, realizing he wasn't gonna be her charity case ever again.

"Now look, most of what you need you can get more easily through phishing, but doing it the old-fashioned way is more interesting," Babs was saying, and her console chimed. She turned away from Jay and clicked an alert, as he rolled his eyes. Any idiot could make a fake email claiming someone's account had been hacked and harvest passwords that way. He liked finding the holes in the programming a lot more; that was an actual _challenge_.

Babs swore sharply enough that it brought Dinah in from the kitchen, a worried frown on her face. "What is it?" Jay and Dinah asked at the same time.

The redhead curled her lip like an angry dog. "Your interfering ex," she spat, staring at the screen as she clicked through to more information. "Our guy at Guyot-Perrin just got out of _jail_ in Paris. Narcotics possession, no doubt planted. He's being deported. The al Ghuls won that contract the dirty way."

Jay's chest had contracted when she first spoke, wondering how the _fuck_ Babs knew. How'd she figure it out? How long had she known? Why hadn't she busted his balls over it yet? And oh _fuck_ , don't let her tell Bruce … Jesus fuck on a Segway, don't let her tell _Kala!_

But it was Dinah who groaned. "Must you? That was _years_ ago! I'll own up to my other exes, even Ollie, but not fucking _Ra's al Ghul_."

"You _were_ fucking 'Ray', though," Babs growled. "I got to hear about it. A lot. 'He's so charming', my crippled ass. I guess he had plenty of time to perfect his technique. And now he's got his claws in Kryptonian tech."

Dinah rolled her eyes, and saw the look on Jay's face, his wide eyes and dropped jaw. He had _not_ known about that particular little romance! " _You_ shut the hell up," she warned, pointing at him. "We were all young and dumb once. Hell, you still _are_. I couldn't believe the guy was evil. Not with the way he treated me."

Jay just blinked. Not like he could judge, not really. Well, at least he'd _known_ Talia was every possible kind of trouble, he'd just slept with her anyway, and what did _that_ say about him? To deflect any suspicion, he said to Dinah, "Dude, he's _textbook_ evil. At least the last time I was there. Villainous facial hair and an allergy to shirts, like anybody wants to see his seven-hundred-year-old pecs."

That startled a bark of laughter from Babs while she was clicking her way through multiple screens. Even Dinah snorted as she mimed a swat at Jay. "He didn't look seven hundred at the time," she complained.

"Yeah, you like rich older men anyway," Babs muttered, and Dinah scowled at her. "Our man started emailing as soon as they gave him his phone back; Vincent Fox just texted me and Bruce. They're sending a replacement, but we're probably not going to recover this. The drug thing was too much scandal, even if they know it's false. Whoever the al Ghuls had was too quick … oh."

Jay heard the way her tone changed, and looked at her screen. And there was Talia herself, caught for a split second on a traffic camera, her face turned away but he knew the line of her shoulders and the angle of her jaw. That was her, with some French guy in a suit beside her, his hand on her elbow, and Babs growled, "That's the CEO of Guyot-Perrin. She went to handle it _personally._ "

"There has to be some way we can salvage this," Jay said, and shit, it wasn't like it was _his_ business.

But with Kryptonian technology on the line, it was Kala's. Which made it his business.

Babs raked her hands through her hair with a sigh. "By sabotage, maybe, but honestly, we were ready to go that route as backup. If we won the contract we were going to keep them from developing anything too dangerous."

Dinah had crossed her arms, frowning at the image. "Talia didn't kill our guy. I guess that's something. But why did she go to Paris herself? She was just in Gotham last month, and if we're right about what's going down in north Africa, there's business for her there, so why drop everything and fly to Paris for this?"

Babs cursed under her breath, and Jay sat back to watch the master at work. In minutes, she was in Guyot-Perrin's mainframe – where they had been not so long ago, checking on the competition's offer and finding it lacking. Now Babs pulled up an email about the 'new' liaison, mentioning the former person had been called out of the country by a sudden family emergency. Babs did a little more hunting, and found an audio file – a voicemail, from a man apologizing for the inconvenience of leaving on such short notice, and promising his replacement would be fully briefed.

"I don't believe that for a second," Dinah said.

Babs ran the voicemail through a couple of audio analysis programs, and scoffed. "It's well done, but that's at least four different original sources. He never recorded that voicemail. Someone took recordings of his voice and patched them together very, _very_ well."

"So where is he?" Dinah asked.

It was Jay's turn to snort. "Dead, most likely. The Demon's Daughter doesn't fuck around."

"But why kill her own agent, and not ours?" Babs asked musingly. She ran a search on the man's name, and Jay saw a bunch of public and not-so-public records pop up, including a couple of other identities.

Jay just shook his head. "Typical League of Shadows shit. You can't always tell with them. Maybe he forgot to salute Daddy Demon."

"No, more likely he was killed for failing to keep _us_ out," Babs said absently, still mining through the data. "It does interest me that she didn't kill our man, just framed him."

For a moment, Jay just looked at her, thinking the motivation through. "Well, Bruce'd be pissed, obviously. This is her way of saying 'I warned you not to fuck with us, you fucked with us anyway, so I got close enough to your guy to frame him for some shit that got him kicked out of the country.' She wants us to know she _could've_ killed him. Leaving him alive is al Ghul generosity."

Dinah patted his shoulder. "That sounds right. We need to keep you on tap for things like this. Obviously you know how her mind works."

He held his hands up. "I am _so_ not an expert. Sometimes I can figure her out a little bit, but you guys know Talia's not easy to read."

"You spent more time in her company than anyone except Bruce," Babs replied. "And Bruce is either too blinded by love, or too obsessed with the blood on her hands, to see her clearly."

Jay managed to shrug nonchalantly. He'd been blind, too, where she was concerned; Talia had ways of making a man see only what she wanted him to see. Usually her body. Jay was all too aware of the cunning and ruthless mind behind the beauty, though. Once burned, forever wary.

"We'll need to get eyes inside Guyot-Perrin," Dinah said thoughtfully. "It does surprise me that the al Ghuls went after this contract, instead of going directly to Luthor. Maybe they really are primarily interested in the solar power. Clean, renewable energy has always been one of Ra's al Ghul's major causes."

Babs glanced up at her. "Or maybe the al Ghuls just don't trust Luthor enough to work with him. A lot of the big players don't trust each other, for which we should be grateful. And the al Ghuls set a large store by personal loyalty, whereas Luthor very publicly betrayed General Zod. In any case, we already have our route into the company's files. We'll know if they're trying something."

Jay just shook his head. "K's gonna lose her shit when she realizes they've got their hands on this," he said.

"I'm more worried about her father than about her," Dinah said. "He takes that particular theft personally. Let's all just hope that L-Tech only leased out the solar stuff. You can do a lot of good with that, and not as much evil."

Babs frowned thoughtfully. "The problem with Kryptonian crystals is none of them do just one thing. The master crystals Lex has, the ones he's never let out of his sight, they have _vast_ amounts of information encoded on them. Recordings of basically the science and culture encyclopedias of twenty-eight alien cultures. And if you drop one of them into the right concentration of salt water, it'll grow a new Fortress of Solitude. Manipulate them correctly and they'll give you biometric security panels with built-in comm units – Luthor had those in Nevada. God only knows what else he's figured out since."

Dinah shivered. "At least he doesn't have a native Kryptonian speaker to translate for him anymore. We know he never got very far, thanks to both Kala and General Zod stalling while Luthor tried to get them to unlock the information. Without an actual Kryptonian to interact with the AI, the amount of information he can get at is strictly limited."

"We should all be thankful for that," Babs replied. "The only living Kryptonian _not_ of the House of El is Non, and he's mute."

Jay perked up a little, placing the name after a moment – the third of General Zod's trio, the brute. Not a threat anymore, thankfully. But Babs had phrased something that piqued his interest. "House of El?" he asked.

Dinah answered for him. "You know Supes' real name, his birth name, is Kal-El, right? Kal is the personal name, El is his family name. So, the family is the House of El. I don't think many of us call him Kal, though. Just Diana and J'onn. It seems the usual system is to call men by both names."

Babs jumped in to add, "And an unmarried woman takes her father's full name as her surname. Not very feminist of them, but that's how we got Kala Kal-El. Lois didn't know the naming convention."

"I wondered about that, when I was reading her file," Jay admitted. He noticed Dinah's brows tick up, but she didn't say anything. "Then again it's not like Kala Lane-Kent isn't all kinds of alliteration."

"It is pretty catchy. Should we buy you a KLK band shirt, then?" Babs asked, and Jay rolled his eyes at her. She just grinned, knowing what she knew.

…

Carl shoved both the laptop and his plate away grumpily. "I didn't run away at thirteen so I could do _homework_ and eat _green beans_ ," he complained.

Julio shrugged and hid his smile, eating his own veggies. One side effect of keeping their heads down and having all their needs provided for was getting to know each other a little better than they really wanted, and Carl had decided to keep being called 'him' and 'he' even though it was finally safe to be a girl. It sure wasn't the weirdest thing in Julio's life at the moment. Getting tutored in history by Catwoman took _that_ spot.

The way Julio figured it, wanting to be a guy might've been part of the reason Carl left home. Or maybe Carl wanted to be a guy because of the bad shit that happened to girls, and _that_ was why he left home so young. Julio didn't ask, because it didn't matter, not really. Every one of them had some kind of sob story background, including him. He liked the way the blonde, Dinah, thought. She'd told them the past was past, it could be learned from but never changed, and the future was theirs to decide. _'You're survivors, not victims. You don't have to carry everything that ever happened to you. Some of it you can leave behind, where it belongs.'_ Wise words, from a woman whose eyes said she maybe knew a little too much about kids with crappy histories.

"Well, you didn't run away so you could get carved up by Black Mask, either," Julio said at last. "This sure beats where we were a few months ago, even if we do have to do homework. Right?"

Carl sighed, elbows on the table and chin propped in his hands. "I wish they'd teach us how to be like _them_. I wouldn't mind going after some of these scumbags like they do."

"Yeah, and then you'd get dead like everyone else who tries to play bush-league Batman," Julio said sternly. "The capes thing isn't for us, Carl. I like learning how to fight, yeah. I feel better going out there, knowing how to hit a bastard in the spleen. I bet you like knowing how to kick a guy in the face."

Carl grinned at that, remembering their last self-defense lesson with Catwoman, and for a second Julio saw the happy-go-lucky kid he would've been, in a better world. It hurt to crush the kid, but he _really_ didn't wanna see Carl on the news some night, splattered across a sidewalk after trying to jump across rooftops. So he pointed with his fork and said, "You keep your nose in those books, Carl, and your skinny ass safe down here. This is Gotham, not Metropolis. Sidekicks get taken out around here."

"Metropolis doesn't even have sidekicks," Carl groused.

"There's Superboy, the clone," Julio reminded him. "I guess you don't need as many expendable kids if you start with one who's almost grown and can catch a bullet in his nose or whatever, and not get hurt."

Carl looked distant. "I wanna go to Metropolis, someday, y'know? I mean, I guess a city is a city, but I hear it's different there. Shinier."

"Yeah, that's why they have a neighborhood called Suicide Slum," Julio scoffed. "Go to college there, if you want. At least you're gonna make college."

Sitting up, Carl looked indignant. "So're you. C'mon, we'll go together."

Julio rolled his eyes. "Dunno if you noticed, but I read at seventh-grade level. I ain't gonna make college. 'S okay, I got my eye on welding, maybe mechanic school. Nothing wrong with working with your hands, and it makes good money."

Carl bit his lip. When he did that, Julio couldn't help thinking it was awful cute. Carl'd make a cute girl. For certain definitions, Carl _was_ a cute girl. But if Carl wanted to be a guy, then Julio wasn't gonna say otherwise. Besides, fourteen was young, even on the street. At last, Carl met his eyes again and said, "If that's what you want. But you're _smart_ , Julio. You could do college if you wanted to. These guys – Catwoman, whoever Dinah really is, Red Hood – they have money enough to get you in even if your SAT score blows."

"So what?" he shrugged. "You see me working in a bank or a science lab or something that needs college? I just wanna get out and make good. Welding school can do that, without fighting my way through fuckin' calculus and shit."

Carl laughed, eyes sparkling. "Yeah, maybe I should be a welder too. I like science okay, but the math makes my head hurt."

Julio was about to staunchly disagree; he _could_ see Carl in a white-collar job, and that kinda shit made even more money than what he had in mind for himself. But three of the other kids came in then, bursting through the door in an excited clot. They were all talking at once, and Julio had to stand up and whack his fork against the table to get them to pipe down. "Somebody wanna tell me what's got everyone so cranked up?" he asked.

The three glanced at each other, and then Lenny spoke up. "We heard Scarecrow's back in town. Supposed to be he's making some kind of move. This guy I know, he works for Two-Face, and his boys are _real_ pissed about something."

Carl and Julio glanced at each other. This was what Red Hood had talked about, keeping the good guys informed about what went down on the street, and Dinah was supposed to be back in two days to check on them.

But such a vague rumor was hardly worth passing on. Julio frowned, thinking, and Carl just smirked. "So, you think we should go out and ask around?" Carl offered. "Get some kinda details before we tell the capes?"

"I ain't going out there if Scarecrow's creepin' around," Lenny said, shaking his head. "Nuh-uh. I saw a guy get hit with fear toxin once. He screamed like a rat in a trap. Clawed his own _eyeballs_ out." The other kids all made gross-out noises at that.

Julio was about to agree, when Carl spoke up again. "Yeah, but you're the one can't sleep with your foot outside the blanket 'cause monsters'll getcha. I'm not saying we go up to Scarecrow and tug on his mask like 'Scuse me, Mister Scarecrow, sir. Are you trying to take over the neighborhood or just fuck up Two-Face's plans?' I'm not _that_ dumb. But we can at least see what people are saying. Right?"

"It's too dangerous," Julio said automatically.

Carl hunched his shoulders defensively. "What about everyone that doesn't have a nice safe house to come back to? With lights and food and blankets and stuff? They _gotta_ be out there. 'Least _we_ can pay attention to what's going on, if someone's watching us too close, 'cause we're not thinking about how to get dinner tonight."

He had a point, and Julio cursed quietly. "Okay, fine. But it's you and me, Carl. Me because I'm the biggest, you because you're the fastest. Any shit goes down, you fucking _run_ , you hear me? And if we don't hear anything good, we give it up and just tell them the rumor. Right?"

"Fine," Carl grumbled. "I bet Red Hood'll be glad we at least tried to help."

Julio snorted and mimed a swat at Carl's head. "Red Hood just wants us to stay safe and out of the way, idiot. Didn't you hear him, when he brought Catwoman over? Difference is, unlike these Bats, he's the kind who'd just break your arm or something so you'd _have_ to stay in and do your damn homework."

Carl scowled and stuck his tongue out, but he had sense enough not to bitch. He was getting his way, after all.

…

Half a world away, Lex was watching Project Scion at work. The black-haired boy was at the crystal console, standing at attention as he answered the AI's questions. Lex kept silent; this version of the AI tended to have problems tracking multiple speakers. Yet again, he cursed the loss of the main father crystal, which would have given him a fully-functional Kryptonian AI.

Of course, the full incarnation of Jor-El would not want to deal with Luthor, and he would've had to create Scion anyway. The program recognized the genetic signature of the House of El and responded to it. Some of the recordings were unlockable by a normal human, but only the innocuous ones dealing with Earth culture.

General Zod had gotten him a long way toward his goals, and even Kala had helped during her brief captivity. But what Lex ultimately needed was a Kryptonian of Jor-El's bloodline firmly under his control, and only Scion could accomplish that. Luckily he'd had the foresight to begin working on this project years ago.

Scion spoke more clearly than a human the same age, trained from his earliest vocalizations to enunciate well. Lex had developed enough of an ear for Kryptonese to follow the conversation, but he'd discovered that he would never be able to speak as fluently as the boy. There were a couple of sounds in that language that a human throat couldn't quite make, still more proof of how utterly alien they were.

People were fools, to accept Superman and his ilk so readily. Kryptonians blended in too well, looking more like humans than Martians or Tamaranians, and people forgot that mere convergent evolution did not make them the same. The advantages Kryptonians had under a yellow sun were simply too terrifyingly dangerous to be allowed free usage.

Lex saw himself as the check-rein on them all. Superman and family had to be careful, knowing he was out here, knowing he knew their identities. They could not abuse their powers too widely, knowing how much kryptonite he possessed. He was the safeguard of the entire world, little though they knew or appreciated it…

The boy paused, which caught Lex's attention. His reply to the AI was hesitant, and Lex checked his watch. Scion had been up and working for four hours; much more, and his effectiveness would deteriorate. "That's enough for now," he said.

"I have not made sufficient progress," Scion replied stubbornly, turning to look at him with eyes that so closely resembled the ones Lex hated so much. "I can continue."

"You can, but we are not in so great a hurry that it is necessary," Lex replied, shifting to the boy's formal diction. He had learned English rapidly, but he preferred to phrase things as they would be in his native Kryptonese. "Stop for a time, and you will return refreshed."

The boy frowned, but he inclined his head politely and trotted off. The handful of scientists who observed these sessions breathed a sigh of relief once he was gone, and Lex looked sharply at them. "Are you that frightened of a child?" he asked caustically.

Most wouldn't dare speak back, but he had one arrogant and well-educated exobiologist on his team who hadn't yet learned caution. "He's a liability. There's no reason why he should have powers if we just need him to translate," the man said.

Lex smiled politely. "Think about that statement a little further," he advised. In truth, he wanted Scion to do much more than simply translate … and the end goal involved maximizing the boy's powers. To that end, his quarters had large windows and skylights, and the sunlight-mimicking UV bulbs in every light fixture stayed on all night. Scion was never _not_ charging up on solar energy. Given what Lex knew of Lois' hybrid bastards and their powers, he expected Scion to be Superman's equal once his adolescence arrived. For now, he had sufficient powers to make the science team very nervous, definitely more than Lois' twins had had at the same age.

His accelerated development, both super-powered and intellectual, made Scion ideal for acquiring the knowledge Lex need from the AI. It had taken longer years than he'd wanted to wait to arrive here, caring for a helpless infant and then a moody toddler, but the boy was now rational enough to be interesting.

Before the exobiologist could formulate a reply, Mercy arrived, looking stern. The rest vanished in her wake, as Lex looked curiously at her. "We have an issue with our agent in Paris," she said.

"Oh? Did he defect?" Lex asked. They'd lost a couple of people that way, which Lex found infuriating. Then again, weaker minds _were_ susceptible to the kind of mystical mumbo-jumbo which ran through all the ranks of the League of Shadows.

"No, he's dead," Mercy replied. "He missed a check-in, failed to answer when we attempted contact, and now Guyot-Perrin received a voicemail from him apologizing for having to leave the country due to a _family emergency_."

Lex scoffed; none of their agents had so great a liability as _family_. "The Demons found him, I take it. Damn them both – but I suppose I should thank them. It would be worse if they had left him in place and fed him misinformation, like they did with the last one." That had set him back months, though he'd been able to turn it somewhat to his advantage by feeding his own line of false objectives to the exposed double agent.

"It's bad enough they're taking a _personal_ interest in Guyot-Perrin," Mercy growled. "His daughter's in Paris right now, my sources are saying. We were going to let Wayne Enterprises take that contract from them, since Wayne already _has_ Kryptonian tech. There's some kind of illicit connection to Batman, which must be how they acquired it in the first place. Letting them take the contract would just keep Guyot-Perrin focused on the solar power aspects and let someone else take charge of limiting this technology on the marketplace."

That _was_ irksome news. "Maybe we should visit Paris, pay her a social call, ask how dear old resurrected Dad is," Lex mused.

"The only call I'm interested in paying to _that_ one is half an ounce of lead, sent with the assistance of a tactical scope," Mercy said coldly. "And given what we know about her father, it would only temporarily inconvenience her."

Chuckling, Lex shrugged. "Let her be. We're still controlling the tech Guyot-Perrin leases from us. Perhaps they'll experience some unexpected changes in their crystal stockpile. We still have some originals from that resonance-batch, don't we? It'd be a rather costly loss, to go to all this trouble for nothing."

"Not costly enough. The Demon's pockets are deeper than ours," Mercy warned.

"That's what happens when you can accumulate interest over centuries," Lex replied. "Keep me appraised of what's happening with Guyot-Perrin, Mercy. I'm not overly concerned about the Demon – but what's mine is _mine_. There's no reason they should have any Kryptonian tech."

She gave a tiny sigh of relief; he'd been almost too casual, there, but the territoriality was back to normal for Lex. "Trust me, we're watching," she told him grimly.


	53. Some Birds Aren't Meant to Be Caged

Lois leaned on the kitchen counter, eyeing her husband happily as he made dinner for both of them. "You really spoil me, you know that, Kal-El?"

"I do," he said with the little smile that only she got to see. "Lana says I should've known better than to feed a reporter. Like stray cats, once you feed one, you never get rid of them."

She smirked at him. "Oh? Trying to get rid of me now, are you? Didn't we _have_ this conversation, oh, seven years ago? I'm not going _anywhere_ , hero."

"Good. See that you remember that," he replied, his voice gone a little husky.

Lois leaned in for a quick kiss, and whispered, "Don't worry, you're a reporter too, and I think I keep you _well-fed_ despite not being the one cooking…"

Anything he might have said in response – and the good Midwestern boy could do suggestive _very_ well when he wanted to – was cut off by the sudden thunder of beagle baying in the living room. Lois shoved herself back from the counter, shoulders tense, mind instantly racing to the fact that her gun was locked in the bedroom safe.

Kal-El stood tall for an instant, every inch the protective hero, then relaxed with an annoyed sigh. "Your timing is terrible," he said, walking out of the kitchen and toward the living room.

The two beagles had lowered their volume from 'hellhound' to 'annoyed grumbling'. Lois followed her husband to find a very familiar black-caped figure just inside their patio doors, Batman looking at the dogs with something like amusement. Lois just scoffed, and called the girls. "Bagel, Chewie, _kennel up_. We don't bite bats, even if they never bother to just freakin' _call_ first. I'm surprised the mysterious creature of the night doesn't have a defense against beagles."

"There's no need to tranquilize your pets," Bruce replied, in the gravelly voice he affected for his caped persona, then turned to Kal-El. "I failed your trust in me."

"Really?" Kal-El said, his brow furrowing.

Lois _hated_ the melodrama, and snarked aloud, "What, did our daughter get pregnant or something? We told you to look after her, but she's a big girl, Bruce. It's all her responsibility. Besides, she was pretty strident about not going to Gotham to hook up, and she's my daughter – once her mind's made up, nobody's dimples are gonna change it."

That made both men turn to her in surprise, and she crossed her arms, arching a sardonic brow. "Good Lord, Lois," Kal-El sighed, as Bruce scowled fiercely.

"Yeah, but the mood needed a little lightening," Lois replied, arching a brow at Bruce. "So what did you do, Batman?"

After a moment, Bruce continued in more normal tones, "One of my oldest foes now has access to Kryptonian crystal technology. L-Tech leased the prototype solar panels they developed to a French firm, Guyot-Perrin, which is planning to further develop and market them under contract with a series of shell companies that lead back to Ra's al Ghul. Wayne Enterprises had been trying to acquire the contract, but our representative was just deported. And Talia is in Paris now, consolidating their hold on Guyot-Perrin."

The news irked Lois; she still was _not_ pleased that Bruce's freaking assassin wife had been in Gotham over the summer. "You think this has anything to do with her having seen Kala when she dropped by?" she asked pointedly.

"We tailored Kala's cover story so that no one, especially not the rogues who know my true identity, would guess who she is," Bruce replied evenly. "With the way KLK is marketed, Talia would have to do quite a bit of investigative work just to discover that Kala is the daughter of two well-known Metropolis reporters, and she has no reason to suspect any such investigation is warranted. Beside which, the Guyot-Perrin contract was the reason for her visit, not the outcome. She claims that she and her father want to develop the technology strictly for its applications in renewable energy, which _is_ one of his chief causes."

Kal-El just sighed. "Bruce, you didn't fail me. Luthor has had the crystals for years. Knowing that, we're _never_ going to control exactly who has access. Just put Wayne Enterprises ahead of the game and force them to compete fairly on the open market."

"We already have," Bruce replied. "We have various means of monitoring their progress as well. If Guyot-Perrin attempts anything untoward, we'll know. And we _will_ put a stop to it."

"She could've gotten it from Luthor, if she wanted," Lois mused with a shrug. "Don't all those megalomaniacal assholes have an organization of their own? We should be glad they're not sharing information amongst themselves."

"They can't," Kal-El said, actually sounding saddened by the news. "One of the chief traits our enemies have in common is that they don't trust _anyone_. They will never be as united as we are."

"Well, that's good for us," Lois said decisively.

"We should never underestimate them," Bruce said forebodingly. "Clark, I wanted you to hear the news from me."

"Thank you," Kal-El said. "Don't be so hard on yourself, Bruce. It's not your fault."

Lois smirked at them both. Her husband, always so forgiving and optimistic, and Bruce, never able to forgive himself. "Got time to stay for dinner, Batman?" she asked lightly.

"My city needs me," Bruce demurred, but there was a hint of a smile beneath the cowl.

So she grinned back at him mischievously. "Well in that case, I hate to shoo a founding member of the JLA out of my house, but I _was_ planning to have sex with my husband while the casserole's in the oven…"

"Lois!" Kal-El exclaimed, scandalized, and she turned her laughing smile on him. "You are _incorrigible_ , you know that?"

"You love me that way," she replied, smirking, and turned toward Batman.

Who had vanished, in those few seconds, this time unheralded by hounds. Kal-El sighed, shaking his head slightly. "He always does that."

"I know, I know. _'I am the niiiiiiiiight'_ ," Lois said, gently mocking, then looked at him curiously. "It really doesn't bother you? Knowing one of his rogues is dabbling in Kryptonian tech?"

Kal-El gave her a wan smile. "Lois, the only reason Luthor was able to get those crystals in the first place was because I destroyed the Fortress … and then left the planet for five years. If I had stayed, I would've known it regenerated. I would've been able to stop him." A pause, and then more softly, "I would've heard my children's first words, seen them take their first steps."

"Kal-El, don't," she said, catching his hands and squeezing tight. "You didn't know. Neither of us knew. Don't beat yourself up over it _this_ long afterward."

He brought her hand up and kissed the back of it. "That's just the point. It's been _twenty-three years_ , Lois. We've gotten lucky so far; it took Luthor this long to let the crystals out of his personal control. And thanks to my _own_ decisions – not Bruce's _highly_ questionable taste in women – we haven't had full control of where the crystal technology goes and who uses it and how for twenty-three years."

Lois shuddered dramatically. "Stop reminding me our kids are north of twenty. You're making me feel _old_ , hero."

Strong arms encircled her, and he grinned. "We can't control everything. All we can do is the best we can with the world we live in and the choices we make. And if you're feeling _old_ , Ms. Lane, I seem to remember someone who had very salacious ideas about how to pass the time while that casserole cooks."

No matter what, he could always charm her. But two could play at that game. "You know what they say," Lois chuckled, leaning into him. "The only good thing about being grownups is, if you want, you can have dessert before dinner."

…

Two days off from touring, combined with everyone in the band suddenly having hot dates, left Kala with an unexpectedly free night. Sebast almost canceled his plans with the beautiful Haitian boy he'd met the night before, but Kala wouldn't let him. "You just spent three days in bed alone, sick as a dog," she teased. "You might die if you don't get laid. At least, that's what you keep telling everyone, you shameless heathen. Don't worry about me, Sebast. I'm sure I'll be able to find something to do with myself."

Sebast had squeezed her tight. "I'm sure you will, _mamita_ ," he'd replied, and her guilt made her hear a reproachful note in his voice when probably no such thing existed. He brightened, kissing her cheek. "Don't worry, no matter how pretty he is, our motto stands. Besties before testes, no?"

" _Si_. Now scram before he gets jealous, _chulo_ ," she'd told him, giving him a playful shove for emphasis. They'd parted laughing, but there was a quiet loneliness in Kala's soul that wouldn't be silenced.

All of her previous relationships Sebast had known about. Some—two, actually—he'd approved of. The rest he merely tolerated, constantly reminding them that _he_ had been in her life for years before they met her, and they'd best forget any ideas they had about breaking up the friendship and working relationship that sustained them both. Only Sebast tended to phrase it as, "She's your lover, but Kala's _my girl_. So step off, bitch."

This one, not only could he never know about, but he'd never understand. Jay was part of the side of Kala's life that Sebast didn't know, and for his safety she kept it that way. He might be her best friend, but he could never know that she was the Blur, much less that she was Superman's daughter. Besides, whatever else he might feel where she was concerned, Jay _definitely_ thought of Kala as _his_ girl. And the thought of the two of them squaring off over _her_ was enough to make Kala sick.

To shake it off, she picked up her cell phone. No point in lying in bed, watching TV and ordering endless room-service. As much as she loved them and the chaos at the farm, she just wasn't up to seeing Jason and Elise at the moment. Too much baby-prep currently going on out that way, and she'd rather not be pressed into service installing outlet covers and cabinet latches. At least she knew one sure way to keep busy. And she was fairly certain Red wouldn't mind the extra help.

A recorded message picked up on the secure line, telling her that Doug's Pizza Parlor was closed and thanking their loyal customers. Kala waited for the very faint beep afterward, and said her code name clearly. A click, and Barbara Gordon's digitized voice came on the line. "Oracle here. Yes, Blur?"

"Hi, O. Put me on the roster for tonight in Gotham, would you?" Kala asked.

"Perfect, I already put you down for backup. I'll bring you up to active duty," Babs replied. Kala smirked; she kept track of everyone's schedule, so of course she knew Kala didn't have a performance tomorrow. Her unerring ability to just instantly know what you were doing was something everyone just accepted after a while. "Hmm, I've got Red Robin heading out on patrol. Report to the roost."

"Oracle," Kala drew the name out testily. _God, here we go again. She's going to be like this every time now. You forget the comm one time…_

"Yes?" Babs asked sweetly.

"Where is he?"

"I told you, at the home roost. Hurry, you'll miss him."

Kala sighed. The moments when Babs chose to display her sly humor were rare, but ever since she'd confronted Kala with the fact that she _knew_ without a doubt about her and Jay, Kala seemed to be on the receiving end of her teasing. She could only thank God that none of the others had a clue yet. "Not R, O. Hood. Y'know, that guy I've been semi-permanently partnered with since the summer?"

"You Titans and your teams. You really have to learn to work outside the box," Babs chided, not bothering to hide her laughter.

"Hey, I work with Wing and R on a regular basis. Not to mention WG and SB and a bunch of others. _You_ just have a sadistic sense of humor. Now c'mon, tell me where Hood is or I'll find him myself, okay?"

"Like you did at the masquerade? I hear Alfred's still finding glitter in the carpet."

"At least no one had to steam-clean the Batmobile," Kala replied, just as sweetly.

That earned her a low chuckle, and then Babs went back to being professional again. "You're logged on to accompany Red Hood on patrol in the Bowery. The meth dealers are getting out of hand. Go to it, Blur, he's already on rounds."

"Thank you, O," Kala said, and hung up.

Five minutes later she was suited-up and hovering over a decrepit tenement in one of Gotham's worst neighborhoods, listening for Jay's heartbeat. Kala found it, unsurprisingly, on a nearby rooftop—and right after she located Jay, he was surrounded by gunfire. "Just another Friday night in the rotten apple," Kala muttered, and swooped in.

Jay didn't need her to cover his back, but they worked well together. Kala swatted a pistol out of one dealer's hand and kicked him in the solar plexus, pulling the blow so that he crumpled up in pain instead of flying off the edge of the roof. Then she knocked down another man with a sharp blow to the neck that temporarily disrupted his nerves. Another dealer was shooting wildly, and Kala dodged around the stream of bullets to take him out. A kick to the back of the knee brought him down, and a punch to the temple knocked him out.

There were two others, but since they were closer to Jay, he'd already dealt with them by the time Kala turned from her third. He broke the leader's nose with a vicious punch that sprayed blood all over his gloves, and only then looked up to see Kala. She wrinkled her nose pointedly at the gloves and sighed dramatically. He shrugged, so casual, and she couldn't help the way she smiled at him, her eyes bright beneath the black domino she wore. "You are _so_ not coming near me with those on. By the way, hi, honey, I'm home."

"'Bout damn time," Jay said, strolling toward her. He tapped his helmet where the comm had been built in, and said to Babs, "Send GCPD to my current location. There's a meth lab in the basement, dealers are bagged and tagged on the rooftop."

One of the men groaned, and Jay casually tossed a Batarang at him, its precise point piercing the man's elbow so he wouldn't be able to pick up a gun for at least three weeks. "What brings you to town, Blur?"

As if he didn't know. "The wonderful weather, the scenic views—really, where else would I want to spend my spare time?" Kala teased him, smirking. "But now that we've mopped this up, I guess I should head out and get out of your helmet. Far be it from me to cramp your style, Red."

The iconic red hood covered his face, but Kala knew he was smiling by the jaunty swing of his stride and the tone of his voice. "Nah, stick around. One thing you can say for Gotham: she's never boring. Apparently we've got a war brewing, with Scarecrow getting ready to pull something epic. Plus all the usual shit." With that he fired his grappling gun at a nearby building and swung across, twenty stories in the air.

"You're such a ridiculous showoff," Kala muttered, and ran to the edge, diving off. Her flight was still mostly a secret, so she used her own grappling line to arrest her fall and land right beside him.

By then they could hear sirens, and both of them set out to the next call, the next crisis. They fell into the seamless partnership that had characterized their rounds ever since Kala first started training with him. One always knew where the other was and what they were doing, even if they were out of sight. Kala's powers and Jay's experience and training made them a formidable pair, and their willingness to tackle brutal odds got them sent into a variety of interesting situations.

So far it was an ordinary patrol. Kala dropped three stories to land on some asshole mugging an elderly man, then Jay swung down from above and scared the shit out of some idiot kids buying X. Jay moved the getaway car while Kala played tag with thieves breaking into a pawnshop. As the night wore on, they even broke up a domestic incident in spectacular style, Kala sweeping through an open window to catch a man's fist before it could crash into his wife's face. Jay, meanwhile, grabbed the woman's chin and forced her to look at the two children huddling under a table silently. They knew not to cry. "Is this what you want for them?" Jay demanded. "This is what they think normal family life is, this is what they think all marriages are like. _Get out before he kills you_. Or one of them."

Kala took one look at the awkward way the woman held her left arm, the bruises already purpling her cheek, and drove her fist into the man's sternum _almost_ hard enough to fracture it, catching his shirtfront. Her eyes felt as if they were burning, probably pinpricks of red behind her domino lenses as she glared directly into his face. "You're getting really lucky tonight, getting this reality check now. Go to anger management, asshole, or some night you'll run across someone with less patience than me. Not everyone has my ethics."

Luckily after that they got called to a straight-up fight to take the sour taste out of their mouths. Domestic disturbances were always the worst, because there were never any easy answers, but Kala couldn't turn aside once she'd heard the stifled sobs. Grateful for the reprieve of a battle against clear-cut antagonists, she and Jay threw themselves into the biggest fight of the night. Two-Face and Scarecrow were apparently having a falling-out, and their thugs were fighting it out in the streets. Most of the family met up then, Dick doing a double-take at the sight of Kala, and she waved cheerily at Tim before kicking apart one goon's body armor.

Mixing it up with dangerous, armed bad guys always left Kala feeling better; she was doing good and having fun at the same time. Afterward they all met up on the rooftops. "Didn't know you were in town, Blur," Tim said, eyeing her and Jay warily.

"Oracle did, and she's the one who'll bench us for not checking in," Kala replied cheerily. "I figured you and Wing had your section under control, and Jay could use my help more."

"Oh, Hood _always_ needs help," Dick laughed, and Jay shook a fist at him playfully.

"You guys need us?" Jay groused. "Because we've got the sector with actual _problems_ , not this white-collar jewelry heist shit. By the way, tell B-man he coulda bought his girlfriend that necklace she picked up last night. Save us all some trouble."

Tim just scoffed. "You could buy Catwoman a diamond mine and she'd lift costume jewelry. It's not the jewelry, it's the thrill."

Dick shrugged. "He's right. And we got the necklace back, even if Catwoman got away. Head back to the Bowery, we'll handle this, and see you at the Roost after?"

"Nah, not unless someone's making meatloaf," Jay said. "Rather stay at my place." The other two rolled their eyes, and Kala headed back to Crown Point with Jay, where they perched on the side of an old church and looked down on suspiciously quiet streets.

"They have no idea," Kala murmured, and smiled fondly at Jay.

"Tim might have half a clue, but Timmy's too fuckin' smart for his own good anyway," Jay replied. "Screw them. They're too all up in my business as it is. I mean, it's hard to hate someone who buys you cake and ammunition, but they don't need to know about this. They'd get all precious about it."

Kala gave a soft laugh. "Yeah, I heard about the cake those trolls sent to my brother. I don't mind keeping this just between us, Jay, if that's what you want."

He grinned at her, taking the helmet off so he could smoke. "Shit, I'm still getting used to the idea that 'this' isn't a two-night show."

That had not been the response she was expecting; that said, they hadn't tried any harder to put a name to their situation. At least he was smiling about it. Kala tilted her head to look at him, and replied seriously, "Don't let me pressure you, Red." The last thing she wanted to do was push him, but she didn't want him thinking she was just showing up for the sex.

"Fuck, K, it's not like _that_ ," he complained, offering her the cigarette pack. "Just not used to being this lucky. Maybe I should play the lotto."

Taking a cigarette and lighting it with her eyes, Kala scoffed. "Yeah, right. You just _think_ you're lucky. Pretty sure we established that I've got issues, too."

Jay lit his own with a mini-torch up his sleeve, and took a deep drag, blowing the smoke out his nostrils. "Yeah, yeah, we're both fucked up. Takes one to know one, all that good shit. I'm still not used to people who actually do what they say they're gonna do, you know? Keep showing up, I might even get used to it."

She puffed thoughtfully, watching him. How the hell could she _start_ to explain just how much his saying that to got to her? That she could get to _him_ , with how bullet-proof he tried to seem… "I may have to take that as a challenge," she said slowly, voice low.

"Keep staring at me like that, we're gonna break off patrol early and get in trouble with Mother Hen again," was all Jay replied.

Kala smiled then, slow and wicked, but the teasing reply died on her lips. She frowned, and stood up, looking westward across the city. Jay stood too, looking in the same direction; it wasn't a sight that had her attention, it was a sound. "What is it, K?" he asked her.

"What the hell is Iguanaman doing in Gotham?" she asked. "Hang tight for five, Jaybird, I gotta go check on this." And without waiting for an answer, she took off, going for height first to better pinpoint Jason's heartbeat.

 _There_ , she streaked toward him, and behind and below her she heard Jay asking over the comm, _"O, who the hell is Iguanaman and why is he in my town? What kinda of shitty name is Iguanaman, anyway?"_

Kala could only laugh as she zeroed in, dropping to land beside Superboy, who was flanked by Wonder Girl and Arrowette. "Hey, Titans," she called softly. They were all staring at some kind of screen in Jason's hands, so she wasn't busting into a middle of a fight like last time.

Jase looked up, and beamed. "Hey, Blur. What're you doing in Gotham?"

Laughing, Kala told him, "I work here, what's your excuse?"

"Snuck out of the tour?" Cassie asked, grinning. "We're trying to track down a signal – one of our comm units got knocked off mid-mission, and landed on a truck, we think. Now it's stationary and reporting in from somewhere in town. It could've been stolen for real once it got here, so we all joined the search. Things are quiet on our front tonight anyway."

"Did you tell Our Lady of Prophecy you're here?" Kala asked, warningly. "I have reason to know Oracle is an absolute _bear_ about signing in and out."

Cissy chuckled. "Yeah, no, we don't just fly into Gotham without permission. Well, except me, but not in uniform. _Somebody_ in Gotham kinda stole away one of the Arrows' best assets."

Kala raised her hands slightly. "Before my time, not my fault, and I'm not getting into _that_ argument. I highly doubt Canary goes anywhere she doesn't definitely _want_ to be."

"Oh, I know," Cissy said, laughing. "We miss her on the West Coast, but she's happy here, so we all come visit when we can. And that same somebody sneaks us Alfred's really good chocolate chip cookies, too, so we forgive her."

"His baking is reason enough to come back to Gotham," Kala said seriously. "That, and I have enough stress on this tour that I need a good fight now and then. Trust me, if you see in the news that a tour manager was found on the moon with a bootprint on his face, you'll know this jackass finally crossed the line with me."

Jase gave a worried frown. "Maybe they can switch you to another manager? You never had issues with Marlene."

"Yeah, you know she and I got along," Kala shrugged. "The guy's a control freak. He'll settle down, or I'll chew on some executives until we sort it out. Anyway, you guys want a hand? It's a little quiet right now for us too. Robin and Nightwing just wrapped something up, and Hood and I were looking for trouble and not finding any."

"Red Hood?" Cassie asked, her eyebrows going up.

Kala grinned at her. "Wait, Timmy never actually told anyone else? Color me shocked. Cassie, it's cool. Seriously. He's good, I promise."

"Arsenal says he always was," Cissy replied, thoughtful.

Cassie just shrugged. "It should be a simple search and retrieve. If we run into trouble, we'll light up the comms. You'll know, anyway. It's pretty nice, running with a guy who has a built-in guardian angel to save all our butts." She smiled broadly at her own wit. Saying so also made the point – a little late from where Kala stood, but not unwelcome – that her assistance was appreciated.

"Yeah, I wouldn't call her an angel," Jason said dubiously. "You guys never had to live with her."

Kala just laughed and hugged him, smooching his cheek. "C'mon, Superboy, you _need_ a devil on your shoulder sometimes. And diabolic suits my aesthetic more than celestial."

With a little more laughter, Kala took off again to return to Jay's side, unaware that a telephoto lens had captured the rooftop meeting. The photo of her and Superboy in Gotham would run in Capespotting tomorrow – juxtaposed with a grainy shot of her and Red Hood leaving Black Mask's warehouse after the big raid – under the headline, _Gotham City Love Triangle: Is Blur fast enough to make time for both?_

…

Stephanie Brown winced, rubbing her shoulder. After all this time, it still hurt if she moved it the wrong way, especially if she was stubborn – as if she ever _wasn't_ – and kept moving it like that for a while. And funnily enough, sitting here typing an email update to Doc Leslie on the tiny netbook they'd brought was one of the things that aggravated her bad shoulder, much more so than even hauling water in South Sudan.

She and Cassandra Cain had followed the trail of trouble up through Khartoum and along the Nile into Egypt. As if there weren't problems enough in South Sudan, the recent influx of violence seemed to be coming from somewhere in the north, and Cass had looked grimly in that direction when they woke every morning. They hadn't spoken of it – there were whole days when they never spoke, both of them already knowing everything the other might say – but they knew who they were chasing now.

The League of Shadows. In this area, Steph expected that to mean Ra's al Ghul, of whom Tim had told her a few hair-raising stories. Ra's would be at home anywhere from Morocco to Kazakhstan, familiar with the languages and cultures across that swath of the world. Cass seemed incline to think it was her mother, Lady Shiva, making a definitive strike against the Head of the Demon for control of the entire organization of mercenaries and assassins. Steph wondered, since it was her curse to be curious, if it was someone new. Cass had just looked at her for saying so, her dark eyes skeptical.

 _It's the group we thought it was,_ she typed to Leslie, and shivered. The nights out here were startlingly cold; they had left the Nile valley, nosing their way westward into the desert, and the baking heat of day gave way to chilly darkness. Beautiful, stark country, and Steph stayed on high alert. She was out of place here, and already they'd come far enough that the dialect of Arabic she and Cass picked up in Juba was getting them odd looks in the markets. Being an outsider didn't bother her. Despite the danger, traveling was good for the soul, Steph had learned, new places and people and languages and food all giving her reasons to stop yearning for the things she'd left behind in Gotham.

She paused, staring at the screen, and thought of all the questions she wanted to ask Leslie, and wouldn't. How was Tim? He'd already been locking down before she even left, growing more grim and serious, more like Bruce the older he got. Dick was probably still the same wonderful warm-hearted soul, and Babs was still brilliant beyond belief. Steph missed them all.

Bruce … God only knew what was up with Bruce. Leslie had told Steph that he blamed himself, that he mourned, but Steph quite frankly didn't give a shit. Not when she'd had two surgeries and a total of thirteen weeks of physical therapy to get her damn shoulder even _halfway_ right. She rubbed it again, frowning at the knot of scar tissue under her hand.

There was one question she _could_ ask, and a fleeting grin lit her expression as she typed it. _How's your handsome boyfriend? Still running the Wayne Home for Lost Boys? Or are you two gonna finally run off to the Caribbean and open a B &B?_ It would make Doc Leslie laugh, and make Alfred smile when she showed it to him, and probably get a chuckle from Babs who was almost certainly monitoring the emails.

Hopefully, it would convince them all that she and Cass weren't biting off more than they could chew, and that they were fine.

Even as she thought that, Steph saw a shadow move across the dawn light outside. She leaned back from the netbook, watchful, one hand on the staff she'd been using lately. But then Cass ducked into the room, carrying a sack of delicious-smelling shwarma, and Steph relaxed.

Cass still tended to cut all unnecessary talk, and she regarded the smile as sufficient greeting. Spending this much time with her had led Steph to adopt some of her habits, and she just smiled back, accepting her shwarma – no onions – and a cold bottle of the mint yogurt drink they'd both come to enjoy. Cass settled next to her, glancing at the screen and lofting her eyebrows, and Steph turned it so she could read. Cass still read slowly, thoroughly, carefully. Steph left her to it, and ate.

Cass reached toward the keyboard, then glanced at Steph again. She smiled and shrugged, so the dark-haired girl set her food down and pulled the netbook close. Staring at the screen, she finally typed, _Which? Why? Don't know. Will tell, once learned._ Steph nodded; they would have to tell the folks back home once they had a concrete lead. It might result in the Almighty Bat flapping across the Atlantic to confront his old nemesis, but they weren't going to hide anything from the Gotham crowd.

Hiding stuff was how people got killed. Steph would know. She shivered a little at that thought, remembering the sound of the drill.

Cass was just _there_ , wrapping her arms around Steph, burying her nose in the blonde's hair, holding her tight to _this_ moment, not the past. Steph snuggled into her gratefully, knowing that Cass – all ninety pounds of her whipcord and muscle – would _never_ let such a thing happen again.

When her breathing evened out, Cass drew back a little, searching her face with worried eyes. Whatever she saw relieved her, because she smiled and kissed the tip of Steph's nose.

No matter how habituated she'd become to silence, Steph couldn't help the honest laughter that bubbled up at _that_ , and Cass knew it.

…

Sebast was singing, loudly, in the hotel elevator. He claimed it was an ode to the guy he'd met up with that night, but it _sounded_ like opera. Robb and Ned were huddled in opposite corners, trying not to hear him. Given that he'd trained his voice to project to an entire amphitheater, that was impossible. Morgan just laughed, leaning against the doors, and when they pinged open at the band's floor, he fell out onto his rump. Large quantities of rum meant that he didn't feel any pain from the fall, and at least Sebast stopped singing to laugh at him like a deranged kookaburra.

Derek was waiting for them, appalled. "What are you _doing_?" he whispered, sounding like he'd rather be shouting. "Are you _all_ drunk?"

" _I_ am not drunk,"Sebast proclaimed, swanning out of the elevator. "I am completely, utterly _shitfaced_. And I'm allowed to be, 'cause I'm a rock star, baby."

"Yeah you tried that at the bar and they still threw us out," Robb whimpered, rubbing his ears. "Who the _fuck_ sings opera in a dive bar?"

"Someone with the fuckin' range to hit it, bitch," Sebast laughed back. "C'mon, Morgan, get up. Someone will think you're part of the carpet and vacuum you." That lame joke was enough to set all four of them laughing again.

Derek glared at them, sighed deeply, then froze. "Wait. Where's Kala?"

"Dunno," Morgan said. "Haven't seen her since before we left. She said she had things to do."

" _Things_. Ha. Bullshit, she has _things_ to do," Sebast said, glowering theatrically. Ned and Robb hurried to get past him to their own rooms; his mercurial drunken moods weren't exactly fun for them, though Morgan found the histrionic rants amusing.

He skewered them with his glare. "Freeze, _chulos_! You know something?"

"I know if I don't get to the bathroom I'm gonna barf on your shirt," Robb complained, dashing into his room, and Ned followed. Sebast scowled, leaning against the wall.

"You're a disgrace," Derek said waspishly, helping Morgan up.

"Go fuck yourself, _cabron_ ," Sebast replied. "It'll do you good. Maybe get the stick out from up your ass first. Dontcha know you're not supposed to shove anything up there that doesn't have a flared base?"

Morgan cackled, and flopped to the ground again. "Oh, shit, your face!" he laughed, tears running from his eyes. "Derek, man, the look on your face!"

Derek rubbed a hand over his face, counting to ten under his breath. "All right, you're both absolutely stupid-drunk, you're an embarrassment to the label, and you're personally disgusting. But you're _my responsibility_ , so get in your rooms and try to sober up."

"Next show's not 'til day after tomorrow," Sebast complained. "So we can do what we want. Hey! Hey, Morgan, they gotta hot tub downstairs!"

"It's closed," Derek said fiercely. "Go to bed, you're drunk."

"Not so drunk that I don't know Kala's not out doing _things_ ," he slurred angrily. "She's out doing _someone_ , I don't know who, and I've known everyone she ever had a crush on back to froshman … _fresh_ man year. She thinks she's hiding it from me, but something happened in Gotham. And I … am gonna find _out_." Sebast finished the speech by poking Derek in the chest, but since he was seeing two Dereks at the time, he missed and almost fell over Morgan.

"Dude, she's probably out doing girl stuff," Morgan said. "What the fuck, you know she doesn't like getting smashed with us. She calls us heathens. An' girls won't talk to us if she's there, she's too hot."

"She does girl stuff with _me_ , idiot," Sebast growled muzzily. "I woulda gone for a massage or a mani if she wanted, but _noooo_ , she makes jokes about my hookup and runs out like her tail's on fire. I'm gonna find out who it is, you wait. You just _wait_."

All Derek's arguments and insistence finally got them both shepherded into their rooms for the night, and Sebast ran himself a hot bath, flopping into it with a cold beer. Nice combo, hot bath and cold beer. Beer would keep the liquor from making his head hurt later; you had to stay hydrated if you were gonna drink, and beer was _mostly_ water, right?

It would've been better if he had remembered to take his clothes off before getting in, but at least he'd left his phone on the counter.

…

Kala and Jay had fetched up on a gargoyle at the end of patrol; the street was quieting down, largely because word had gone around that Red Hood and Blur were out. At the moment, GCPD was sweeping the area, packing up their last call: an attempted hit by members of one drug-dealing gang on another. They'd put a stop to it, and both the shooters and the target remained unperforated, but Jay was grumpy about it.

"Six weeks and they'll be out, doing the same old shit again," he muttered. He'd taken the helmet off to let his sweaty hair dry out a bit.

"That's six weeks they won't be shooting up your streets," Kala pointed out.

"Yeah, joy," Jay groused. "Someone else'll do it. What's bugging me is Crane. He's about to make a move."

"You mentioned that earlier," Kala said musingly. "How do you know?"

Jay grinned at her. K would never ask, _What makes you think that?_ She never doubted his ability to keep one finger on the pulse of this city. Instead she asked how he knew, and he realized he'd never told her. "When you first met me, when I was undercover," he began.

"The scruff," Kala said, remembering with amusement.

"I was pretending to be homeless and mentally delayed," Jay said. "Clean-cut chiseled chin and designer jeans weren't exactly gonna cut it."

"You're not that clean-cut anyway," she laughed at him, and he mimed a cuff at her.

"Shut up, I got enough compliments on my looks at that godforsaken masquerade ball," he shot back. "You weren't the first one to smack my ass."

"Have you ever heard me say you were less than sexy, Red?" she replied, and _that_ coiled low in his belly. _This_ woman, who was literally hotter than any other on the planet, thought _he_ was sexy. What a head trip. Kala continued, "Yeah, didn't think so. But you've never been _clean-cut_. It's fine, I like a man with a few rough edges."

"Yeah, I know you like rough," he teased, and saw her eyes darken with promise. Too bad he actually _did_ want to tell her about this. "But seriously. I was living with a pack of homeless kids, and they fed me the info I needed to figure out it was Black Mask snatching runaways and hookers for his little science project."

"Are they…" she began, looking the beginnings of anxious, then shook her head shortly. "No, _you_ were involved, they _have_ to be okay. You don't leave allies hanging, no matter how much you want everyone to think you're a bastard. Sorry, had a Super moment – forgive me, it's kids."

"Yeah, no worries," Jay said, a little unnerved at how quickly she'd realized what his reaction would be, and how clearly she'd seen his stance on the whole situation. "I got 'em in a safehouse, got the Cat and the Canary watching them, even got 'em started on getting their GEDs and stuff. Least I know they're safe and fed, y'know? And they'll have heat this winter."

"So, do I wanna know how they found this out?" she asked, worried.

"The streets are a rumor mill," Jay explained. "They thought I was too slow to worry about what they said in front of me, so I overheard about all the disappearances – the times and places. And the vans that were doing the snatching. None of them got taken. Anyway, after it all went down, the two smartest ones pretty much figured out they'd been living with the goddamn Red Hood for like a month. So I have to make sure they're safe, get them out of this bullshit, before they become targets. To make 'em feel better about living in the lap of luxury, I told 'em to keep us all informed of any rumors, and that's what they're doing. No details, yet, but Crane's got plans."

"Wonderful. Well, it might…" Kala trailed off, then glanced at her phone. " _Dammit_."

"What?" he asked.

"It's my drummer, Ned," she explained, frowning. "He texted me because they're all drunk, but Sebast is _extra_ drunk and raving about hunting me down, and our idiot fucking tour manager is about to lose his shit apparently. God _damn,_ these boys are hopeless without me."

Jay just scoffed. "Sounds about normal for a rock band, getting drunk and causing havoc. Besides, what business is it of your co-singer where you are?"

"He's also my best friend," Kala replied hotly. "And despite knowing the guy for almost ten years, it's not like I can tell him that I'm _flying_ to Gotham to beat up bad guys."

"Don't forget 'sleep with Red Hood', last I checked it's one of the main attractions," Jay added, his eyes sparkling.

"Oh, we _sleep_? Is that what this is?" Kala said with a touch of sarcasm.

"Excuse me, we have actually fallen asleep together twice," Jay shot back. "And I'm really looking forward to the solar-powered heater as the weather gets colder. But since you insist, yeah, you can't tell him you're flying to Gotham to beat up bad guys and fuck the Red Hood. I get it."

He'd succeeded in making her laugh. "It's just not something I can explain without having to explain a whole lot of other stuff. Even if I was okay with telling him, which no one in my family has ever _told_ somebody what we are, not since I was six and Nana had to know the whole truth, I'm not gonna lead him to you and the rest of the Waynes."

Jay nodded. "Yeah, that makes sense. Shit, K, I don't _know_ any civilians anymore. Other than, like, the waitress at the diner who knows how I like my eggs. Must be weird having people around that you can't talk to about half your life."

She rolled her eyes. "Jay, I can't talk to my _little sister_ about half my life. Or my aunts and uncles. Or anybody else I've dated. The weird part for me is that you and I _can_ talk about bad guys and superpowers."

Put that way, it _was_ pretty strange. Her world was a mirror image of his own. All Jay said was, "I guess it is dating. I mean, I brought you home from a party and all."

For a second, she froze, looking at him wide-eyed, and Jay tensed for the inevitable 'this is _so_ not what this is' talk. But then she laughed, clearly nervous, and he grinned to let her know he was just joking. He also noticed that she didn't argue the fact. Kala relaxed a little, returning the grin and shot back, "Speaking of the diner, you still owe me a meal before it's really considered _dating_."

"How 'bout tomorrow morning?" Jay said, and no, he wasn't overeager or anything. Jesus fuck, he didn't have any more game now than he did when he was thirteen.

She smirked before giving that silvery laugh again. "Sure, I can sneak out again. The next show's not 'til day after tomorrow. And we're coming in to Gotham in a week."

"I was kinda hoping you'd spend the night," Jay admitted. "My waitress is probably still wondering who chewed up my neck the other week."

Kala actually blushed a little. "Yeah, your brothers are probably still wondering who glitterbombed the garage, too."

Jay couldn't resist. "Nah, they think I just gave myself a little belated birthday present. If they only knew…"

"I wasn't a present?" she said, lofting her brows haughtily.

"Nah, you're a fuckin' gift all right, but the present you brought me that night wasn't wrapped, so I dunno if it still counts." Jay couldn't help laughing at his own wit, and then at Kala who actually blushed. "Shit, Supergirl, don't show up commando if you're not gonna own it later."

"I only did _that_ because a certain someone _cut my fucking panties off_ the first time," she shot back.

He shrugged. "Look, you're the one who busted a Bat-belt. Safe to say we were both a little impatient there."

"That's what happens with a few months of backlog," she told him. And then sighed heavily. "Look … I really do have to go save these idiot boys from themselves. But if you really want brunch, or lunch more likely, I'll drop by tomorrow. Sometime around noon, maybe one?"

Jay started to agree, then frowned. "Shit, I'm supposed to see Babs tomorrow. Dunno when I'll be back. Lemme call her…"

"Don't piss off Mother Hen," Kala warned. "If I get in before you, we'll see how your security holds up to superpowers. If I make it in, you have to buy – if I'm still in the hallway when you get home, brunch is on me. Deal?"

That got a snort of amusement from him. "Yeah, sure. I'll just plan to be home. You can try, but I set all that shit up to keep the apartment on lockdown."

"Never underestimate a determined Super," Kala chided, and kissed his cheek. Her eyes sparkled as she added, "Miss me?"

Jay was feeling just good enough about the day to smirk. "Always. Haven't been around long enough for me not to."

She got up, still grinning as she moved past him to go, and caught his shoulder to tug him back into the shadow of the gargoyle's wings. And then plant a nice, serious kiss on him, the kind that made him want to drag her down right here, to hell with whoever might be watching. "Same," Kala murmured as she drew back for breath, and then she was gone, just a breeze to mark her departure.

"That is one helluva woman," Jay sighed, and leaned back with a smile.


	54. Despite All My Rage

Sebast sprawled on the hotel bed, his phone against his ear, and rolled his eyes at the ceiling. " _Mira,_ Mikey, just ask the girl out! The worst that can happen is she says _no_. You know what they say, you miss a hundred percent of the shots you don't take. And you, _mano_ , you need all the shots you can get."

His little brother sighed into the mic. "You don't know what it's like."

"You're right, I don't, I have Grindr," Sebast shot back. "I post a sexy pic and the men just line up. It's different for guys, we know we're just here to fuck. Nobody cares about feelings."

Mikey made a rude noise. "Yeah, you have girls chasing you too. That shit's unfair."

"I'm just too goddamn beautiful," Sebast laughed. "No one can resist me."

"Only 'cause they don't know you," Mikey complained.

"Shit, you only say that 'cause you're family. Not even Jesus could get respect in his hometown." Sebast snickered. "Seriously, man. Stop trying to figure out if she likes you and just fucking _ask_ already."

"You just don't care, 'cause none of it matters to you," Mikey accused. "And don't compare yourself to Jesus. I don't want you to get struck by lightning. Seriously, Sebast, why are you such a _sato_?"

"Just giving the people what they want," he retorted with a shrug that Mikey, of course, couldn't see. "And what they want is my dick, mostly."

His brother groaned. " _Please_ tell me you're being at least halfway safe."

"I buy my condoms on Amazon because you can get 'em in a hundred pack. And yes, I get tested regularly. Thank you for worrying, _abuelita_."

"Don't call me grandma, or I'll start asking when you're gonna settle down with a nice boy and adopt some kids."

Sebast laughed out loud at that. "Me? Kids? Shit, _mano_ , I can barely take care of these assholes in the band, and they're supposed to be grown."

"Yeah, you're not settling down either, unless you count Kala."

He growled, "Shut up. I don't need to hear that shit from you, too. I get enough of it from Mom."

Mikey snorted amusement at him. "I know, I know. Hey, how _is_ Kala, anyway?"

That was a bit of a sore subject, because she'd claimed to have plans and just flat _disappeared_. "I wish I knew, Mikey," Sebast said with a shrug.

"What? Since when do you _not_ know what's up with your girl?" Mikey asked in tones of disbelief.

He sat up, scowling. "Watch that 'my girl' shit. I hear enough about how we're practically married."

Mikey laughed. "You guys bought a house together! You might as well get married for the taxes."

"Fuck you, _mano_ ," Sebast snarled, getting up to pace. "You and every other dumbfuck think just because we're friends that means I wanna fuck her. Even fuckin' Javier thought that, but he was just projecting because his bitch ass was laying pipe with everybody in Metropolis while we were on the road. Well everybody can get bent, _I'm gay_ you goddamn idiot. Fuck, Mikey, you ought to know better!"

"Whoa, whoa, calm down big bro," Mikey said hastily. "I'm just teasing you, Sebastiáno, no need to rain fire on me. I know who you are, brother. I was there when you came out, remember?"

Sebast did. He'd planned it all, the summer of his fifteenth year when he was finally old enough to work. He'd gotten a lousy job in fast food and saved every penny, making sure he had enough to get by in case the worst happened and they threw him out. He'd made arrangements for someplace to stay – and that stung to remember, because he'd tried to ask Tia Gloria and Kala had jumped in to say he was welcome at her house. Sebast had planned everything, chosen his moment after dinner when everyone was calm, and had made his dramatic announcement in the living room, holding his breath after saying those two short simple words: _I'm gay._

And the reaction had been … nothing.

His father had rolled his eyes and looked at his mom. "This is why I didn't want him going to that arts school. They put all kinda ideas in their heads."

Nettled, Sebast had replied, "I knew before Stalmaster, Papi. This isn't new."

His mother, meanwhile, had just smiled sadly. "You're young, Sebastiáno, you don't know what you're saying."

"I'm saying I'm gay," he'd said, getting annoyed. "I like guys. I always have."

His father had sighed and gone back to reading the paper, only commenting, "You're sixteen, _hijo_. Your _bicho_ doesn't care if it's a boy, a girl, a stiff breeze, he'll jump up and salute. Wait 'til you're twenty-five, you'll understand."

His jaw had dropped. Of all the possible reactions from tears to rage, Sebast hadn't expected _that_. And then his mom had capped it off by saying she'd _pray for him_. Which went a long way towards why he'd become strictly an Easter and Christmas Catholic, these days.

And no matter what he said after that, none of them would come anywhere near understanding. Except eleven-year-old Mikey, who'd watched the whole thing. Later, while Sebast sat in his bedroom texting Kala about the non-event, Mikey had wandered in and asked, "So you like kissing boys?"

Sebast had arched a brow at him, ready for any challenge. "Yeah, I do."

Mikey frowned. "You don't wanna kiss _me_ , do you?"

And _that_ , for a long moment Sebast had wanted to throttle whoever put such bullshit in Mikey's head, before realizing it was just little-kid ignorance. "You're my brother," he'd patiently explained. "You have too many cooties."

"Okay," Mikey had said, and that was that. He'd been the only one in the family other than Tia Gloria whom Sebast could talk to freely. With his parents, after a couple of scenes and a few more hideously embarrassing lectures, Sebast had taken to just not talking about guys, or the fact that he was definitely still gay.

He sighed, pulling himself out of reverie. "I'm sorry, Mikey. It's not you. I've just gotten too much shit lately on that score. And Kala herself isn't helping."

"She try to put the moves on you?" Mikey asked, sounding interested. "Hell, she knows better, but if she wants to try some _boricua_ you can give her _my_ number."

"You couldn't handle her," Sebast laughed. And never mind the fact that he did, sort of, speak from experience. That one night was just a fluke. They'd both just been drunk. It didn't mean anything to either one of them. The only reason he'd even been _capable_ with a girl was because it was Kala, who was so far inside his personal boundaries that she was basically just another part of him.

Mikey just laughed with him. "Yeah, well, I never told you, but… I was kinda worried, you know. With you being gay. Like what if _I_ was gay, too?"

"Little bro, I coulda told you that's not how it works. You never told me," Sebast said, feeling an ache in his chest. He'd never even guessed at this.

"It wasn't like a _big_ worry," Mikey explained, and even Sebast could tell that wasn't entirely true. "But that one summer when Kala spent like, two weeks at our house? Yeah, I figured out I liked girls all right. She kept wearing that little blue tank top to sleep in, and she'd get up and have breakfast in that and her pajamas. And _maaaannn_ , I don't know if she knew, but that top totally showed side boob."

"You horny little goat," Sebast laughed. It had been more like three weeks, and she'd been back over the rest of the summer, too. Jason was in Gotham and Kala was still trying to handle all the shit that had happened with being _kidnapped_. At least finding _this_ out put a lighter spin on that summer. "You were like … twelve, Mikey!"

Mikey was laughing out loud, too. "I know, _mano_. I had an _awakening_ that summer. I must've gone through like two bottles of hand cream!"

"Were you the one stealing Mom's good Bath & Body Works shit? Jesus, Mikey, at least use the freakin' Jergens like everyone else!"

"Ewww, I don't wanna know," his brother chortled.

They got themselves under control, and Sebast grinned as an evil thought struck him. "Hey, since you asked, I _will_ give Kala your number. And tell her allllll about your summer of self-love."

The amount of swearing that erupted into his ear at _that!_ Mikey finally said, in a voice trembling with anger, "Sebastiáno Nicolás Vélez Manso, if you even _think_ about it, I swear to God I'll ruin the rest of your life!"

For the first time in days, Sebast gave a deep belly laugh, almost unable to breathe as the threats continued. Finally, he broke in with, " _Relax_ , Michael Antonio Vélez Manso, since you're gonna use all my names. I might do that to _you_ , but I wouldn't do that to _her_. Kala'd be all weird about it, knowing you were creeping all over her."

"I was not creeping, she was just _there_ ," Mikey whined.

"And you didn't point your eyes somewhere else because you were twelve, you freak," Sebast said affectionately.

"Really don't tell her."

"I _won't._ Calm down."

Mikey sighed into the phone again. "If you do, I'll duct-tape you to a telephone pole outside the church and tell everyone you need Jesus."

"I'm serious, I won't," Sebast reassured him.

A shorter pause, and Mikey asked, "Okay though, not being creepy. But what's this about you not knowing what's going on with Kala? What happened?"

"I don't _know_ ," Sebast complained. "It started this summer, I think. Kala's been … different, ever since she got back from Gotham."

"Different how?"

Sebast thought about it. "Moody. Quiet. On edge. I mean, our manager this time is an asshole, but that doesn't explain why she keeps disappearing. She never used to go out without me."

Silence stretched between them, before Mikey asked, "You think she's seeing somebody?"

Sebast flung himself back down on the bed. "Yeah, but _who_? We're in a different city every day, practically. Either she's got some guy following the tour, or she's picking up _groupies_. And that's my game. The weirdest thing is, I've tried to get her to talk about it a couple times now. She just _won't_. She knows I know something's going on and she keeps just blowing it off. Whatever's going on she just won't _tell me._ "

"That doesn't sound like Kala," Mikey said, now sounding worried himself.

"I know," Sebast told him miserably.

…

Kala knew by now where Jay kept the spare key to his apartment—behind a tiny section of false wall in the parking garage, several floors away. The lock was the very least of his security, though, and mindful of her boast last night, she took her time navigating the various booby-traps around the entryway. Jay seemed to think he had enough deterrents to keep her out, and the taser attached to the door itself _was_ pretty imposing, but at least she could see through the door and find the catch for that.

Stepping over the tripwire that would've had an unwary burglar concussed and trussed, Kala made her way inside. Jay was … well, he was a great fighter, an even better trainer, and one hell of a lover, but he was no housekeeper, that was for sure. Kala had never been in these rooms alone before, nor with the pitiless light of noon shining on every discarded beer bottle and smear of grease. She paused in the center of the open studio-space, turning to stare into each corner in growing horror.

Clearly he had never expected her to actually beat him here, or to make it inside, or he would've pulled a fast clean-up like he had the morning after their first night together.

Empty—and, her x-ray vision revealed, not-so-empty—pizza boxes on the floors, even in the bathroom. Beer bottles and cans rolled beneath the furniture. Liquor bottles. Empty fast-food wrappers. Cast-off clothing. Strips of old, stained bandages hanging half in and half out of the trash can. No liner in the can, either. Dirty dishes in the sink, on the coffee table, and on the floor beside the bathtub. Shaven hairs in the sink and toothpaste on the bathroom mirror. Careless fingerprints on the walls near every light switch. Scraps of paper with handwritten notes and computer printouts on every horizontal surface. Spare flash drives and CDs spilling off the computers.

She'd never seen anything like this. Her mother had always intentionally left a bit of disorder in her house, in defiance of her father's military precision, but it had never been like _this_. A handful of mail fanned across the kitchen counter, stacks of notes arrayed across her desk, a jacket tossed over the back of a chair, those were the ways in which Lois Lane cultivated chaos. For the most part, though, she kept her house neat. Beds were made, dishes were washed, and floors were swept, mopped, and vacuumed.

Not even on tour with the boys in the band—who were all allergic to soap, so far as Kala could tell—had she ever seen such a disaster. Kala's skin began to crawl as she remembered that she and Jay had had _sex_ in the midst of all this. Jay had shoved her up against that wall, right there, the one with a dark handprint that she really, _really_ hoped wasn't a bloodstain. And in that armchair, the one which currently had a box of Chinese takeout sitting in it. And in that bed, with the messy linens and a beer bottle on the nightstand.

As if in a nightmare, Kala slowly walked into the kitchen area and opened the refrigerator. Some takeout boxes and a large assortment of beer were all that populated the shelves. Up front was a clean, white plastic container. Kala knew better, she really did. But she opened the thing anyway.

Twenty minutes later, after fleeing in sheer horror, she was back with rubber gloves, particle masks, protective glasses, bleach, furniture polish, Pine-Sol, sponges, a broom, a mop, dish detergent, scrub brushes, a bucket, an entire roll of heavy-duty trash bags, air freshener, and a change of clothes for afterward. Forget all his fancy traps, the _real_ hazard here was the _filth_.

Even at her speed, it took over an hour to strip the place clean. Kala worked with the windows and doors open to let out the fumes. Everything in the fridge (except the beer) got tossed, and she scrubbed down the shelves as well as the interior and exterior walls of the fridge itself. She had to stop and run out for Raid when she started on the sink; roaches had colonized the garbage disposal, living off the scraps on the plates.

Everything in the bathroom got bleached as well, the mildew in the grout was scrubbed away, and she even cleaned the hard-water stains out of the toilet tank. "I cannot believe I fucked him in this cesspit," Kala growled, emptying the trash while holding her nose.

She left the bedroom area for last. Apparently Jay ate about half his meals there, and the sheets badly needed a wash; based on the creases she remembered, Kala thought Jay just bought a new set whenever the old ones got too dirty. Kala took one look at the pile of dirty laundry in the bottom of his closet—his uniforms were immaculate, but his regular clothes were disgusting—and shoved all of it into three garbage bags that she set aside to take to a cleaner's later. She'd have to tip extra to overcome the gross factor.

About the time she was picking up the third empty bottle of scotch from the floor, Kala became aware of an extra heartbeat in the room. A very faint, very fast one, coming from under the bed, where she had not yet dared to peek even with x-ray vision. "You have _got_ to be fucking kidding me," she growled.

…

Jay arrived home late, tired, and pissed off, but what else was new? When things went sideways on the way back from hacker class with Babs, he'd gotten wrapped up in a literal daylight robbery, hard-pressed to prevent it without giving himself away or, y'know, getting _shot_. By the time he made it home, he'd completely forgotten his lunch date. He unlocked his apartment, stepped inside, and instantly froze, all his senses on the alert.

For about half a second he thought he'd walked into the wrong apartment, but none of the others in the unit were furnished. And after sitting empty for years, none of them smelled like pine and bleach. Also, his elaborate traps were still set, although nothing else looked the same as it had when he left this morning. Jay drew his gun and proceeded warily.

He'd forgotten that he had hardwood floors in this place. They shone with a fresh coat of wax. The _walls_ were clean. He could've sworn they were a sort of yellowish beige; they turned out to be just slightly off-white. The tile in the kitchen gleamed, too. His counters sparkled, and the stove burners that had gradually accumulated a coating of dark brown crud were actually glossy black again.

The refrigerator shone. Jay opened it warily, and saw that his beers were now aligned in neat rows. There was actual food in there, too, sandwich meat and cheese and other stuff. Apples, oranges, and bananas in the veggie crisper, microwaveable mashed potatoes and mac n' cheese on the center shelf. A gallon of milk in the door, too. Fuck it; it gave him something to use in his Corn Pops.

He moved on to find that his bathroom stank of bleach, but it was immaculate. Even the grout was bright white again, and the porcelain glowed. The clutter of stuff on the counter had been neatly corralled into the medicine cabinet, and beneath the sink was a collection of cleaning supplies along with spare hand soap and toilet paper.

Jay walked out, still in a daze, and went to his bedroom area. There were new sheets on the bed, which was made with the sheets tucked in so tightly that Alfred would've wept with joy. His clothes, though—he hunted for them frantically, finding the closet bare except for uniforms. In the dresser, though, he found brand-new packs of boxers, socks, and t-shirts, along with a claim ticket for a cleaner's a couple blocks away.

That was when he recognized the handwriting on the ticket. "Kala. Shit," he swore, smacking himself in the forehead. He owed her a lunch date – and obviously she'd found the challenge of breaking in too good to ignore. Jay holstered the gun and wandered back into the living room area. He should've recognized her handiwork; that one crazy burglar used to break in and clean houses, but only Kala would've stocked his fridge with healthy stuff. He was lucky there was no tofu.

A loud metallic clattering had him drawing his gun again, whirling to face the sound. On a side table in the living area was a cage with a plastic bottom tray and closely-spaced white wires making up the top. And in that cage was a big damn rat, chewing maniacally at the wire in an effort to get out. "What the fuck is this shit?" Jay asked the empty apartment. The rat stopped to stare at him with its beady little oil-spot eyes, and then returned to gnawing.

Only then did he see the note taped to the table next to the cage. In Kala's clear, slanting print, it read:

Hi! My name is George. I am a purebred Gotham City sewer rat. I've been living underneath the bed which you occasionally share with Superman's daughter, and I have complained to the management about the resulting noise. Management promised me cleaner accommodations, better food (stale beer, pizza crusts, and leftover Chinese are not a balanced ratty diet!), fresh water, and plenty of toys. I even got a bath in the bargain!

My cage needs to be cleaned at least weekly; shavings and hay are in the front closet. I need to be fed daily as well. A box of rat and mouse food is underneath this table. I also like bread, dry pasta, fresh fruit and veggies, and I admit the occasional pizza crust is a nice treat. Thanks to the management, you now possess those items.

I'm still adjusting to my new home, and I'm still annoyed with you, but in a week or so I'll be calm enough to handle. Rats do make great pets, and everyone needs a pet sidekick, right? I'm fairly acrobatic—I can jump four feet straight up onto an unsuspecting Super's shirt, I can run along an electrical cord at top speed, and I can almost fit through that hole in the baseboard that just got repaired. (I'd've made it, but you let me have too much greasy Chinese.)

Take good care of me, and maybe you can have a puppy for Christmas.

Yours,

George

"Jesus H. Fucking Christ," Jay said, as the wild goddamn rat chewed on its cage bars frantically. "How the fuck did she give a rat a bath?"

So sometime today, Kala had come here, cleaned the place top to bottom, sent all his clothes to the cleaner's, caught and caged a wild fucking rat—he hadn't known the damn thing was living there, Jesus _fuck_ , he'd been fucking Supergirl on top of a literal fucking _rat's nest_ —gone shopping for clothes and sheets and fucking _groceries_ , and then … left.

He guessed he couldn't blame her.

Jay wandered back into the kitchen and opened the freezer, vaguely recalling having seen some ice cream in there when he perused the stock of groceries. There were some frozen dinners, too, but not the cheap shit—Boston Market, and the good Asian stuff too.

He took down the ice cream, scooped some of it into a bowl—she'd washed dishes too, holy shit—and went into his bedroom to eat it and think. When he sat down on the bed, something crinkled, and he got up again to turn back the sheets and find another damn note. This one was more succinct.

If this place stays clean, the next time I drop by while you're out, you'll find a naked rockstar in your bed instead of a pissed-off rat in a cage.

Yours,

K

P.S.—Rats really do make good pets. Hope he keeps you company while I scrub off the top layer of my skin and try to forget everything I saw.

P.P.S.—Some of the stuff in the fridge had developed sentience, Jay. That makes me a genocidal mass-murderer for throwing the gloop down the disposal. It couldn't be allowed to continue, though, as it was on the verge of discovering fire and taking over the world. I hope you can live with yourself for what you made me do.

"Goddammit," Jay sighed.

…

Kala didn't want to bring the biohazard back to the hotel, so she swung by Metropolis and took a long, hot shower. Honestly, she was just grossed-out, not angry – and now a little worried that she'd crossed the line with Jay, cleaning the place up. But holy shit, that wasn't just disgusting, it was downright _unsanitary_.

When she got out of the shower, her phone light was blinking, and she took a deep breath before picking it up. Jay's message simply read, _Meant to clean that up. Now you know why I didn't want you going in w/out me._

Well, at least he wasn't threatening to shoot her the next time she flew in. She typed a quick reply, _Yeah, because the roaches might've attacked en masse? Doesn't matter; it's clean now._

A pause, and then his reply came back. _Yeah it is. Guess I hafta keep it that way if I'm gonna see a better class of woman._

 _Damn right,_ she replied, grinning fiercely.

 _The fuckin RAT was unnecessary._

Kala laughed out loud. After the poor rat got spooked and jumped right onto her chest, she definitely wasn't going to let Jay forget it. She'd grabbed the rodent as he scrabbled up her shoulder and thrown him. Lucky for the rat, he landed in a bucket, and Kala covered it, letting him stay there while she got the cage and supplies. The bucket had still had half an inch of soapy water in the bottom, just enough for her to claim she'd bathed him. _His name is George and he is VERY necessary. I almost kept him myself. Tour mascot._

She could just imagine the swearing that preceded his response. _You're sick. I set it free in the wild, by which I mean threw it in a dumpster._

 _Rude,_ she texted back, chortling. _Poor thing put up with you for months and you kick him out._

All he replied to that was, _Sick and twisted, K._ Then, a few minutes later, _Still miss you, rat-handler._

Kala smirked. _Miss you too, rat-enabler. Another day or two, I'll be back, hopefully. And then we're playing Gotham the end of the week.  
_

Jay replied sarcastically, _Can you get me free tickets?_ and she just sent a series of eye-rolling emojis.

It was nice to be able to joke around with him, although she was never going to let him forget the rat. _Nobody_ should be having sex on top of an actual, literal _rat's nest._ Least of all Kala herself. And for this conflicted, filthy in both the right and the wrong ways, arrogant man, Kala could add _that_ to her resume. "Could be worse," she sighed to herself. "Could've been on top of a gargoyle."

No more time to linger, though she was tempted to swing by and surprise him by returning so soon. Kala knew that was a bad idea. She'd been gone far too long in the middle of the day, and if she missed practice the boys would have hysterics. Much as she might want to steal a little more time with Jay, her day job was too demanding.

She found a good place to land unobserved, and walked across the hotel parking lot just as Derek and the boys stepped out of the front doors. Derek did an obvious double-take at the sight of her, and exclaimed, "Where have you _been?_ You're booked for rehearsal in half an hour! No one had any idea where you went!"

Kala arched a brow at him. "Excuse me? Last I checked, I'm not _twelve_. I'm allowed to go out on my own. I made it back in time, didn't I?"

He had been walking toward her quickly, and made as if to grab her arm … but the man _did_ have some self-preservation instincts after all. Derek let his hand hover in the air for a moment before dropping it, thinking better of grabbing her. "Listen, _you_ are the _lead singer_ in a moderately successful band," he spat. "That makes you a critically important asset to the label, do you understand?"

"What am I, chopped liver?" Sebast grumbled, while Morgan wrinkled his nose and complained, " _Moderately?_ Tell that to our ticket sales!"

Kala, meanwhile, lifted her chin and gave Derek an imperious glare. "No, the tour bus is an _asset_. I'm a _performer_. Which means a _human being_ who's allowed to have a fucking _life_. As long as I meet my contractual obligations for rehearsals and performances, you don't get to say _dick_ about what I do in my free time!"

The man raked a hand through his hair angrily. "Really? God, they told me not to work with the talent… Look, sweetheart, your _image_ is your _brand_ , and we can't have you ruining that by running off God-only-knows where all the time. Do you have any idea how cutthroat this industry is? All it takes is one tone-deaf Facebook post…"

Kala interrupted him, her own eyes narrow, unable to believe what she was hearing. "Okay, first thing, I am not your fucking _sweetheart_. Call me that again and I'll make you address me as Ms. Lane-Kent for the rest of your life. Second, I know _perfectly well_ what life in the public eye means! Why do you think we all have 'official' social media accounts, and the real ones for our real friends?" It did irk her to have to sign in as Josephine Clark on Facebook to talk about anything personal, but that was a small price to pay. She'd fought for control of the bands' official accounts remaining in their hands, and had won it, with the label's PR team only having the authority to delete any inappropriate posts.

"Then why are you acting like every idiot twenty-something who gets a little money and fame and has to blow it?" Derek snapped.

She leaned back from him in confusion. What the hell was going on in that buttoned-downed brain of his? "What makes you think I was out spending money? And why am I justifying this to you? I'm not on the news, I'm not drunk, I'm not even carrying shopping bags! I went out for a couple hours in the middle of the day, for all you know I could've been in a museum for the last four hours!"

He scowled at her. "Is it drugs? _Please_ tell me it's not drugs, I can't do that again. If it's drugs the label will pay for rehab…"

Kala turned to the boys, horrified. "What _is_ this?" she asked them, and all of them shrugged.

Sebast put in, "Dude, Derek, she doesn't even smoke pot."

Seeing the manager roll his eyes, Kala stepped into his space. Considering the things she had seen, and stopped, in Gotham, she had had more than enough of these accusations. This was fucking _ridiculous_. "You wanna question me? We'll go to the nearest fuckin' pharmacy for a drug test. Right now. But that'll be the _last_ goddamn time you bring up some dumb shit like this. What the actual _fuck_ is wrong with you?!"

"I read your last manager's notes!" Derek finally snapped. "According to _her_ you're the backbone of this band and supposedly the most reliable person she's ever worked with. Either a twelve-year industry veteran is full of shit, or you're _seriously_ flaking out!"

Kala threw her hands up in despair. Of course, it would be Marlene's praise coming back to haunt her. Trust this idiot manager to turn even _that_ into an accusation. "What the _fuck_? I can't be Wendy all the fucking time, the goddamn Lost Boys can hang for a while without me! They can all get drunk and Sebast can sleep with half the men in town, but I take a few hours' downtime and everybody loses their shit!"

"Hey, _mamita_ , chill," Sebast said, but it was too late. The infamous Lane temper had hit the boiling point.

"You can stifle it, Sebast, although thanks for at least backing that I'm not some kind of junkie," Kala shot back. She was pissed off enough to take on all of them at the moment, every minor frustration coming to a head. "Like I haven't noticed you turn the man-whoring dial up to eleven and break off the knob! And the rest of you better not say one fucking word either. Robb, I see you on your phone at six in the morning, I don't know who you're texting but you better not send them money. Morgan, your liver's gonna climb out of your body and run away if you don't cool it with the drinking. Ned – I'm sure you've done _something_ dumbass lately, just to follow the fuckin' theme. If anyone in this band needs an intervention, I got news for you, Derek: it's _not me_."

All four boys stared at her, mouths hanging open, and Kala glared at them, feeling as if steam were curling from her nostrils.

And then she really _saw_ them, the hurt in their eyes. All of them had their own ways of living the rock star life, but they had always supported each other, never gone on the offensive. Realizing how she'd just turned on the people who helped her make her dream come true brought Kala down from the height of righteous indignation.

But not before the hottest temper in the band _also_ boiled over. "Who the _fuck_ do you think you are?!" Sebast snarled. "You gonna talk to _me_ about man-whoring when you're gone almost every night? Shit, _pendeja_ , I know we're close but you don't gotta try to beat my record!"

Oh, now that just goddamn _tore it_! Kala stormed toward him in a black fury. "What do you care, you're never in the room to notice! And watch your fucking mouth, _cabr_ _ó_ _n_ , I don't take that shit from you or anyone else."

"Don't you _cabr_ _ó_ _n_ me, _blanquita_ ," Sebast spat back.

" _ **WHOA!**_ " Ned yelled, loud enough to make both of them and Derek startle. "If you guys wanna fight, maybe don't do it in the freakin' parking lot where the whole world can watch? Last I checked, _TMZ_ is not the kind of publicity we want."

Even in the midst of anger, Kala saw the sense in that. " _Fuck_. He's right. Look, we have rehearsal. Let's go do this. We can sort out who's the biggest asshole later."

"Sure, _Wendy_ ," Sebast growled, his green eyes still narrowed. He stalked past her, and Kala managed not to bristle. After all, there was no way Sebast could know that most of the nights she'd been missing, she was in Gotham risking life and limb. Not too long ago she'd faced off against _Joker_. Meanwhile the scariest thing _he_ had to deal with was guys who didn't quite match their Grindr photos.

All in all, she preferred dealing with the damn rat.

…

Harley sprawled across the foot of Pam's bed, waiting for her nails to dry. "So I pulled some real Sherlock shit on the poor clinician who's supposed to be analyzing me," she said, eyeing the red and black nail polish critically. She'd had to be very charming and cooperative to acquire these small allowances; the staff weren't taking many chances with the pair of them. "I think I spooked her good. She thought she was unlocking the mysteries of the criminal mind; the whole time she's layin' out her own little nest of neuroses."

"Of course you frightened her," Pam said, glancing up from her book. "People tend to forget how brilliant you are. And that you _were_ trained for this sort of work."

Harley grinned, but tried not to make her preening too obvious. She'd learned over the years not to take too much praise to heart, even if the current source had never used flattery to set her up for a fall. "Yeah, well, better they underestimate us all," she said with a shrug.

Pam had been about to make a reply when a siren blared somewhere, and they both leapt to their feet. Harley could hear magnetic doors locking tight in the hallway outside, and the lights dimmed. Wild hope exploded in her chest; she and Pam had been concocting their own plans, but perhaps Joker had found a way out first.

Booted feet in the hall, doors opened and immediately slammed shut again, and Harley called out, "Puddin'?" in hopeful tones. Instead a squad of guards stormed in, shotguns trained on the cell.

Beside her, Pam shrugged. "Is there a point to this?" she asked imperiously.

"Cellblock seven secure," one of the guards barked into his walkie talkie, and most of them ran back out, leaving just two men behind. And both of those kept their shotguns leveled at the cell.

Harley strolled forward, eyeing them interestedly. The guns didn't bother her; if they were dumb enough to fire, they'd barely scar the thick plexiglass, and possibly kill each other with the ricochet. "So what's goin' on, boys?" she asked.

Pam just watched them quietly. The guards didn't respond, although when Harley put her hands on the wall dividing them, the one on the right snapped, "Step away from the glass."

"Or what?" Harley asked in a singsong voice, her eyes lighting up as she ran her hands suggestively along the glass. "Whatcha gonna do, big man? Come in here and tell me to stop?"

The guard on the left sneered. "Hit both of you with the freeze-gas, for starters. _Back off._ "

Harley stepped back with an exaggerated sigh. "You guys are no _fun_. What's the big deal, anyway?" They wouldn't answer her, so she paced along the glass, watching them. "Somebody's makin' a breakout, ain't they? You boys scared or somethin'? Worried we're part of it?"

"Shut up," the second guard growled, and the first one snapped at _him_ to be quiet.

Harley just laughed, baring her teeth. "Ooh, you're _real_ scared! D'ya get hazard pay for lookin' after us? 'Cause we're _sooooo_ dangerous. Must take a lotta guts, holdin' shotguns on two unarmed women in a cage."

Pam had moved up, quietly, and as Harley paced past her the redhead said coldly, "If they were smart, they'd be watching the door, not us."

Harley laughed again, her eyes bright, watching both guards carefully for the first hint of weakness. She knew she could crack their minds, given time, but she might not _have_ time. "Yeah, 'cause when Puddin' comes up here to break us out, they're gonna get blindsided."

"You knew about Joker's escape plan?" one guard asked.

"Course I did," Harley scoffed, even though she hadn't gotten so much as a note since they'd both been back in. At least the idiot had confirmed _who_ had escaped. They suspected it was Mistah J, with the way the guards had come running up here, but it was nice to _know_.

And then … nothing. The two guards weren't willing to talk, splitting their time between glaring at her and Pam, and staring apprehensively at the door. Harley stopped her pacing, tilting her head. Something was wrong, any good breakout would be done by now, if he took too long the Bats would get involved…

The sirens stopped, and a few moments later a different guard came up. He looked at Harley, who gave him a quizzical stare, and just laughed. "Looks like the bastard forgot something. Batman says he's off the premises; the capes'll track him down. Double the watch for the rest of the night, just in case."

"Yes, sir," the two guards said, but they stepped _outside_ , to the monitoring station in the hall, leaving Harley and Pam in their prison.

Leaving them behind.

Like Mistah J had.

Pam was at her side, one hand on her back, and Harley nodded. Her lip was _not_ trembling. It absolutely wasn't. "He probably didn't have time to get us out, too," she said. "He'll come up with somethin'. He always does."

Pam nodded, but didn't say a word, and the part of Harley's mind that was hellishly aware of the predicament she'd gotten herself into – the one she _kept_ getting herself even _more_ deeply entangled in – noted that Pam never disagreed with her about Mistah J, but she never agreed, either. And from Pam, who wasn't afraid to argue, that silence was _very_ telling.


	55. Act Six: No Escaping When I Start

This was one of Jay's crazier ideas.

Kala had promised she would swing by and see him after the show, but he'd found himself with a free evening and decided he wanted to see her sooner. This was the other half of who K was, anyway – the rock star, not the superhero. Part of him wanted to know how much of _his_ Kala was in the stage persona. And part of him just wanted to see her.

Hearing Joker was out again, well, that wasn't really a _surprise._ Arkham couldn't hold him; nowhere could hold him. But the Clown was lying low, it seemed, and Jay had pumped all of his contacts for any information with no luck at all. Also not a surprise. When he wanted to, Joker could be as wily as any Bat, and he'd damn near vanished before. Jay knew he'd be back, Joker would no more give up on Gotham than Bruce would, but as far as Jay was concerned, that just meant another opportunity to put the bastard down. Who knew, maybe he'd get the Clown alone with Kala at his back, and no Batman around to interfere. That was really the best case scenario.

It didn't bear thinking about now, though, because he'd gotten himself tickets to the hottest show in Gotham, and his girl was about the hit the stage. Let the vigilante drama slide. The steady chanting of the crowd around him should've given Jay more of a clue as to what to expect, the three letters repeated over and over, "KLK! KLK!" As the opening band's volume went up, so did the crowd's, rising to the point where Jay's eardrums started to ache with it; he had no idea how Kala dealt with the sheer intensity of it, given her super-hearing.

But then the chanting broke into a wild cheer, the entire venue on their feet and jumping, waving their arms, and Jay saw Kala strutting onstage from the left with triumphant laugh, while her co-singer Sebast came in from the right, the two of them already dueling out the first verse of the song and rushing to the front to capture the crowd's focus.

And fucking hell, Kala was all glitter and leather and purple-streaked hair, in an ornate corset and twirly little skirt, her boots spiked halfway to the ceiling. And that brilliant grin of hers didn't take long to show full-force. She practically glowed under the attention.

Her pretty-boy partner, on the other hand, was dressed dark but sharp as hell. It was either a visual nightmare or a treat for the senses, Jay wasn't sure which, with the lasers and spotlights criss-crossing over everything. Either way, his eyes were glued to the stage.

" _Oh, I bet you thought that I was soft and sweet,"_ Kala sang, lips curled up wickedly as they hit the second half of the chorus, gaze riveted on her audience. _"'You thought an angel swept you off your feet."_

Then Sebast took over, _"But I'm about to turn up the heat."_

The way they looked at each other explained _exactly_ why Kala was always lamenting that the fans thought they were a couple when their voices twined on one line, _"I'm here for your entertainment."_

Jay realized then it was a cover they were singing, but a hell of a lot darker and more intense than the original. Fuck, he'd listened to Kala's albums – for research purposes, and he damn sure wasn't telling her that – but no way could they have prepared him for _this_ , for the way she and her pretty-boy sang together live, moving like a single entity, one person in two bodies, looking like they were about ten seconds from fucking right there on the stage.

And this was just the _warm-up._

A flash of jealousy hit him square in the chest at the thought, but he shoved it away as the guy caught his gaze— _shit, why the hell did I grab a third-row ticket?_ —and actually _winked_ at him, hitting him with some sort of Latin smolder that made something far more base curl low in Jay's center. The fact that the guy had both hands cupping Kala's breasts when he did it just made it more intense.

Well, _that_ was new. He sure as hell hadn't expected to get the come-hither from the guy that always seemed to be on the other end of Kala's phone conversations. And certainly not while he was feeling up Jay's girl. Somehow, he figured Kala would just laugh her ass off, judging by the charged atmosphere on the stage as the two of them slithered together, challenging back and forth across the stage and through the second chorus. She still hadn't seen Jay, locked into the performance.

" _Oooohhh…. Do you like what you see?"_ Sebast sang when they hit the bridge, his darkly-lined eyes on Jay again, and _shit,_ this was more interesting than Jay would've guessed. He didn't fool around much with men these days, but Jay didn't lie to himself. His interest in Dick had always been more than brotherly. And the look Sebast was giving him was full of temptation and promise.

Oh hell, this _was_ the guy he'd threatened to ruin for all other men, wasn't it? No wonder Kala had been amused. Why was he surprised the guy was eyeing him? He was the only one in the first ten rows not bouncing around and singing along. Kala still hadn't seen him, and at this point, he didn't want her to.

 _Screw it,_ he decided, and cheered and jumped to blend in with the rest of the crowd.

" _Wooooaaaahhhh… Let me entertain 'ya till you screeaaam!"_

…

Back in Gotham, as her day self this time, and things were running sort-of right again. The big blowout in the parking lot a few days past had mostly blown over. Kala had Derek to thank for that. Rehearsal had helped, even Sebast's surliness fading before the pure delight of singing together. They were all musicians, and doing what they loved brought them back to interpersonal as well as melodic harmony.

After the session, Kala had apologized to all of them, and offered to buy lunch. They hadn't been spending as much time together lately, and some band-bonding time was overdue. That was when Derek had spazzed out; not wanting them to make another public scene, he'd forbidden them to go.

The band had united against him, even Robb telling him to fuck off, and that defiance had smoothed over the angry words of earlier. Even Sebast had apologized to Kala, though she'd winced guiltily when he told her he just _missed_ her. There was so much she simply couldn't explain to him. She wanted so much to just _tell him_ , but that was the one ironclad rule in her family: never tell the secret, not even to family. Aunt Lucy and Uncle Ron still didn't know the whole truth, so Kala couldn't possibly tell Sebast she was the Blur. And even if she broke that like she'd broken so many rules in her life, then she'd have to explain Jay somehow, and his secrets weren't hers to tell.

Even with the suspicion and the arguing, _nothing_ could change the high of performing. Kala could almost pity Derek, thinking she was doing _drugs_ , for God's sake. As if any drug could ever touch the way she felt on that stage! Once the spotlights hit, she and Sebast were perfectly in sync again, every move and every note perfect. This much of her life was still working just right.

Heading back down the long access corridor to her dressing room, Kala encountered the usual delays. She stopped to greet the people who had backstage passes, signed a few autographs, posed for a few quick photos. Even gave a girl who looked just a few years younger than herself a kiss on the cheek and a hug when she got flustered and started stuttering. That level of nervousness, over her, never failed to touch her heart. The girl had just barely managed to ask her to sign a copy of one of the band's original singles, from before Robb had joined KLK. Kala had been thunderstruck over it; it had been years since she'd actually seen or even heard their cover of Rhea's Obsession's _Memento Mori_. God, that had been during the first tour! They'd given them out as freebies. In that moment, she thought she was more excited than the fan, hugging her when she realized what it was. That was sometimes the best part of this job; things she had thought forgotten were always turning up at these shows.

Still running high on the adrenaline from the show and the surprise appearance of that CD, Kala ate up the attention, grinning and laughing and happy to give it all back as she moved along through the slowly-thinning crowd toward her ultimate destination. She was perpetually floored by the level of dedication the fans had. They absolutely deserved every single thing she had in her at every concert. Holy shit, that _CD_ … Laughing, she twirled slightly on her heels. _So fucking awesome._

Usually the boys were done with the meet-and-greet by now, cleaned up and dressed by the time she finally got finished with her compliment of the legion. Well, Morgan, Ned, and Robb, at least. Sebast could always be counted upon to play equal opportunity flirt with both sexes, even if it was only the boys he occasionally—hell, _frequently_ —disappeared with. Tonight, however, a mixed batch of the groupies had appeared the minute they came off stage. And some of them had only had eyes for the boys. She laughed a little to herself; you had to consider that this was Gotham. The game was always a little more intense in the larger cities and it rarely got larger than this.

It wouldn't have been a big deal, especially since one of the girls only had eyes for Skellington and that was excellent news in Ned's case. Who knew, maybe this could be a girl that would stick around. Didn't help that Sebast had seemed to be looking for someone from the moment they'd left the stage. She rolled her eyes at that, shrugging off the annoyance she felt at the thought. No matter how offended he'd been when she called him out, she hadn't said anything untrue.

And of course, she was going to be stuck going to the hotel like a good girl when she'd been waiting for this stop _all tour_. There was a legit reason for her to be out and about in Batclan's town _finally_ and freaking Derek would be shadowing her every move yet again because of her disappearances lately. Lately he'd been far too interested in her schedule, asking a million questions over what she was up to. _Like I need a goddamn babysitter. I want to do something with all this energy, I wanna see Jay. Here I am in town and I can't even get away to see him when we're in the same freaking city! How fucked up is that?_ Narrowing her eyes, she stalked toward her destination. Just the thought of missing out on a night of working out her tension frustrated her to no end. It just wasn't fair. _Screw it, we only have two nights in town. I'm sneaking out tomorrow, Derek can go—_

She was so absorbed in her suddenly-gloomy thoughts that she almost didn't catch the flash of movement in her peripheral vision as someone slipped into her dressing room, with her just a few feet away. Frowning, she stalked forward, only to be accosted by a stray pair of teenage fans. Her professional smile coming back in an instant, she grinned at their exhilaration and answered their questions, all while listening to any potential movement in the room. Signing both kids' glossies and hugging them both, she stood watching the giggling girls hurry off before making a beeline for her destination.

 _What the hell?_ Nobody should've been in there yet, and where the fuck was security? _The fans know better._ _They've_ _always been more respectful than that._ A sinister thought crept into her mind, icing her belly, but she forced it away. She'd known it was a risk to play Gotham when she was actively working here, but there was no way anyone could suspect… Kala braced herself and stepped into the dressing room with all senses on alert, ready for anything.

"Thought you were never gonna make it through that gauntlet," the intruder said in a low, amused, and above all _familiar_ voice.

That stopped her dead in her tracks, eyes wide with disbelief. Now _this_ hadn't been what she was expecting at all. _"Jay?"_ she said incredulously, finding him already lounging on the little loveseat as if he'd been there for hours, dressed in all black, a fitted leather jacket over a tee and jeans, with a little kohl around his eyes and his hair wild. All he needed was a little glitter, and he'd look like he could've actually been a fan. She'd never have guessed he'd come to a concert, even if it _was_ in his town.

"What are you _even_ doing here?" Kala half-laughed, torn between amazement and irritation. "Jesus, how the hell did you even get _in_ here? Is my security team really _that_ bad?"

Jay laughed as he stood, and nodded, "Oh yeah. I'd definitely recommend you get new security," before stepping close and crowding Kala back against the dressing table, locking her into place with his hands up on the mirror. "Came to see the show," he shrugged, leaning down to capture her lips in a hard kiss.

Sucking in a breath through her nose, Kala returned the kiss just as hard, then put up a hand and pushed him back a little after a moment. She did want him here, despite her better judgment. It had been almost a week since she'd last been able to sneak away to Gotham, and deep-cleaning his literal rathole of an apartment hadn't been the most satisfying visit. But Jay never came to _her_ ; this was a first. Her look was a portrait of skepticism as she crossed her arms. "Really?" she said hotly, still feeling wildly off balance and trying to find her footing. "Since when the hell do you even like my music?"

"Never said I didn't. Maybe I _love_ it. Maybe I'm a _super_ fan, come for a little celebrity 'encounter'," he suggested, raising an eyebrow and huffing out a laugh as his hands moved to frame her hips. Kala could only roll her eyes at his mocking as he went on, "But I said I came to see the _show_ , and the show was pretty damn hot. Definitely didn't disappoint." His eyes took on a devilish light, and he shrugged again, "Music wasn't that bad, either. A little too pop for my taste, but, you know."

"Oh, fuck _off_ ," Kala replied with a laugh she couldn't quite stifle. Leave it to Jay to put her on a pedestal, then yank it out from under her. That said, she had to get better at resisting him. On this topic, especially. "You expect me to believe you really just came for the show? When you're constantly picking on my day job—your YouTube search history notwithstanding? You can understand why I didn't expect you here, I would imagine. _You're_ the one harping on the separation between one life and the other." That said, Kala leaned back a little further and gave him a look. "You could have at least warned me, Red."

Kala hated to sound as though she didn't want to see him. More than anything else, she'd love to jump him and just be done with it. Jay was a temptation she couldn't give up, and if it wouldn't have blown both their covers, she would've loved to see him at every concert. Once a day would even be nice. But hell, what was Jay doing here at the arena when just _anyone_ could see and draw conclusions? They couldn't afford anyone having a clue what they were up to, in uniform or out. Even more so if they were both in Gotham.

Jay only scowled, not even hiding his pout. "Nobody here knows who I am, K. Hell, I haven't exactly been hogging the covers of the Inquirer lately, unlike Bruce and Dick. And even if anybody _did_ have a clue—and the chance of it is _ridiculously_ small, especially considering I don't normally wear eyeliner—they would definitely keep their mouth shut, for their own good."

Kala raised an eyebrow, smirking at him. "I tell you that you can't rough me up in my semi-public dressing room when anyone could see us and put two and two together, and you threaten my band and my fans? Miss me much?" She had to laugh at herself then; who was she kidding? He wasn't the only one greedy for time lately. Maybe this wasn't the brightest idea, but it could be done; they just needed to be careful about it. No one needed to know any of their business. The band, included. "On that note, I guess I should ask what your game is tonight, huh?"

"Relax, will ya? One: I didn't threaten anybody. Man with a mysterious past, remember? And two: suffice it to say, my profile's low enough that you didn't see me in the third row of your audience, while your costar ogled me the whole concert. Gotta hand it to him; guy knows how to work the bedroom eyes."

He'd been in with the crowd that close to the stage? And she'd missed him completely? Once again, God was laughing at her. Leave it to Sebast to have found what she'd been too caught up in the performance to see. Kala groaned, slapping her forehead with a palm and closing her eyes. "Jesus Christ, he never stops." That would explain not only why Chupi had been distracted from her on and off through the night, but also why he'd been searching for someone in the backstage crowd. This surprise appearance had her completely out of her element tonight, even on what _should_ be her own turf. Leave it to Sebast to have found the best-looking man in the audience, not to mention the one that was _hers_ , and lock on to him like the dick-seeking missile he so often claimed to be.

At that, Jay's face broke into a mischievous grin, his eyes alight with it. "Oh yeah. He did. But fuck, you two might as well have been screwing each other's brains out up there, the way you danced. Didn't know I'd bought a ticket to _that_ kinda show." The eyebrow-waggle he gave her at that was perfectly salacious.

A shake of her head and an eye-roll, and Kala turned away from Jay to start stripping off the layers of her costume from the last set—and hide the warmth in her cheeks, which she couldn't admit to. _Especially_ not to Jay. "It's just a job, Jay. All those moves are choreographed, and us acting sexy is less than a third of the show. Anyway, we've danced like that since high school. Stop reading more into it. Besides, the onstage action sells concert DVDs to the diehard Kabast shippers," she told him. Trying to blow off this whole uncomfortable line of tease, Kala reached back for the zipper of the tight black vintage slip-dress from the encore and shed it with a sigh of relief. She had to bite her tongue then; any more would be protesting too much.

Well, except for one thing. "And shush yourself. I don't waltz with Sebast." A wink over her shoulder at that, the memory of wearing her Snow Queen costume to break Jay out of the terrible torture that was a Wayne charity ball flashing across her mind's eye.

Kala let herself stretch a little before hanging her concert dress on the special hanger with her other costumes. As much as she loved the Patsy Cline cover, the gorgeousness of that dress didn't make up for the prep for it. Usually she could handle tight, but this thing with its boning was difficult to get into and out of, which totally explained why it was a fan favorite. The more intricate and unique, the more torture to the wearer, the more they inevitably loved it.

Next went the intricate hair clips that wound the purple streaks into her hair, and she groaned in relief at the loss of pressure on her scalp and ran her fingers through the waves, grateful that this was the last time she had to wear them for the night. God, she missed the days when she could just bleach and dye it, but the time in which her hair would suffer that indignity was long past.

Lamenting that this was the point where her adrenaline kick usually started to wear off, Kala stared at herself in the mirror. Post-concert exhaustion was its own kind of suck. It was worth it, hell yeah was it ever worth it, but there was a reason why she hadn't seen Jay too often immediately after a show. A worn-out Kala was not a fun Kala. If only she had the time, a sunsoak was starting to sound like a the world's greatest idea. However, she had company that she'd rather not miss a moment of. The sun could wait.

When Jay continued not to snark at her, which was odd in itself considering where they were, she finally turned back to face him and caught him watching her closely. The look he was giving her was almost predatory, his normally-bright eyes dark under the mess of his hair. "What?" she said with a lot more come-hither than she thought she could feel right now, his look sending a shock of want straight down to her toes. She felt like ten miles of bad road and he was looking at her like he was the damn Big Bad Wolf he liked to pretend to be, ready to pounce at any second. Seemed like he was always doing that. How the hell was it that he could make her feel better instantly just with a look like that? Meeting his eyes in the mirror, she was the one smirking now. "So, you gonna stand there and stare at me all night? You're a cheap date."

Jay huffed a laugh and leaned back against the arm of the little loveseat. "Hey, it's two shows for the price of one. Why not?"

"Because it's creepy when I'm only in a corset and panties, Red, is why not," she shot back, managing to sound both taunting and prissy. Giving him a little glare in the smudged mirror, pursing her lips at him like an annoyed kid, as if it wasn't all for show. He'd seen her in far less and in even less savory surroundings. With one last shake of her head, Kala got to work on taking off the thick makeup that stage-shows demanded. If she was lucky, he wouldn't try anything cute until she was done. _If_ she was lucky.

Telling herself that she didn't feel self-conscious with him here, seeing her so overdone up close, Kala concentrated on taking the heaviest of the makeup off. There was so much glitter and mascara around her eyes that it required special makeup removal pads to take it all off. Careful swipes left her with a much-thinner line around her eyes and bare lips that she swiped with gloss. Not too plain, but she could blend in with a crowd more easily this way. A change of clothes, a brush through her hair, a dust of powder and she could likely slip out amongst the crowd of the band's own fans. If, of course, she could get away without Derek catching sight of them before they got away, or Sebast busting in.

"Oh, hey Kala, fancy meeting you here," Jay said behind her as she finished her adjustments. "Didn't expect to see _you_ at a KLK show."

"You truly are the funniest man who ever lived, Mr. Todd," she said, inwardly groaning at his lame joke. "Seriously. Never heard that one before. Most people outside of family don't see me without my rockstar face on, remember? And don't joke. You have any idea how long it takes to put the KLK face on?"

"At your speed, what, about ten seconds?" he teased.

Whirling on him, Kala tossed her used cleansing pad at him, glitter and all. And with a glare, she leaned against the dressing table to unzip and tug off her platform lace-up boots, ready to throw them, too, if Jay gave her any more lip. "You're a real comedian tonight, aren't you? Now are you gonna tell me what you're really doing _here_ besides enjoying the view and mocking me? 'Cause it's got to be pretty important for you to come find me at work."

But instead of another snarky comeback, Jay just shrugged after he deflected her first salvo. "Is it a crime to want to know what all the fuss is about? I mean, your band's logo is all over the place, I busted a drug dealer that was wearing a KLK t-shirt last night, and you just played _WayneTech Center,_ for God's sake. Admittedly, it wasn't _quite_ a sold-out venue, but that crowd was really fucking ecstatic to be here. Some girl kept jumping on me all through the third set, like she was trying to use me to get a better view. I think I might have bruises," he finished with a raised eyebrow and a half-smirk.

The sudden mental image of him being used as a ladder by one of her fans just about made Kala want to break into ringing laughter, but she managed to keep it contained to a snort and a chuckle, grabbing a regular pair of jeans from her clothes rack.

"Wow, you sound almost proud of my little day job, Jay." She flashed him another grin in the mirror. "All right, we'll assume you're redeemed, then, especially if you stole the shirt when you busted him. _Not_ the kind of publicity I need. Especially in this town." She looked away to slip into her jeans, adjusting the striped corset to fasten them, feeling Jay's stare and only quirking her lips to show she noticed. "Don't start. Not that much is showing, voyeur. And I promise to wear a jacket over it." She didn't even have to look up at him to know the look in his eyes, running the brush through her hair again to tame it just a bit more from its stage-wild state. They had no business flirting with being caught like this, they both knew he shouldn't have tried to see her here.

Did that change the fact that he was going to make her crazy if they stayed here much longer? Hell, no. "Put your tongue back in your mouth, Red. You act like you're never seen any of this before. Thought KLK wasn't your type? I remember you saying that at some point, don't I?" Her grin was pure mischief when she finally caught his gaze, those wolf-blue eyes just as intense as she'd guessed.

"Hey, you're crazy if you think I'm not gonna enjoy watching you strip," he shot back, before pushing himself off the arm of the couch and closing in on her.

Kala waited for him to come to her, pressing her against the vanity, only to use her natural strength to maneuver him there instead. "I was going to try to get away to see you later, I thought I told you that? Like I'd skip the chance to see you while I was here. I said I'd text," she said between kisses, pressing her body against his until she could feel his growing excitement against her belly. Just that was enough to make the fatigue disappear instantly. And oh, she just couldn't help herself. But maybe a pointed jab would make her happier about giving in. "Oh, _really?_ Tell me something, Red. That for me, or for Sebast? Because I should warn you, we've always had a hard time sharing. Especially when the object was mine first," she grinned wickedly.

"Wouldn't _you_ like to know?" he said, mirroring her grin before capturing her lips again.

When they breathlessly came up for air, her voice had grown low and husky. Unable to help herself, her touch grew a little more possessive. Kala knew better than to take the jest seriously even as she pressed her body into his, tightening her fingers in his hair. It would be wrong to say she wouldn't take the tease lying down when he was taunting her into making sure she did just that. Losing herself to the electricity of the moment and forgetting about the wheres and whens and hows, she whispered into his ear, "Oh, I'm gonna know. And within the next couple of hours. You can count on that. "

And, shit, they needed to get out of here if this was the way the rest of the night was gonna go, because Kala had just about enough stamina left to work up a good sweat, and the fire in her core was certainly stoked and ready to go. The hell with Derek, she could slip away from super-villains, one human manager didn't stand a chance if she decided to cut and run. And for Jay, she'd deal with all the bitching later. He was worth it. What _was_ it about the two of them together?

But anything Kala was going to suggest was cut off as the door to her dressing room flew open, Morgan barging in like he owned the place. "Hey, Kala, you coming out for—oh," he started, freezing in place when he saw her and Jay. _"Oh."_

It felt like she stopped breathing, her heart stuttering. _**Fuck!**_ _Caught. I knew it._ For a second everyone froze, Kala knowing exactly how damning this tableau was: she was practically wrapped around Jay, his hands on her hips pulling her close. She slowly pulled away from him with what she knew had to be a blush creeping up her cheeks. Her eyes felt too big, like they were going to pop out at any moment. _This can't be happening. We've tried to be careful. Goddammit._ "Um, Morgan," Kala started, but couldn't figure out how to finish that sentence.

Fortunately Morgan had more presence of mind than either of them. "I'll take that as a _no_. Look, if you wanna get out ahead of stampeding fans, I'd go now. You'll meet us at the hotel later on, right?"

Relief practically crushed her—God bless Morgan for not asking too many questions about it. Of all of the boys, he was the most discreet. "Yeah. Later. Thanks, Morgan—you're the best."

"That's what all the ladies say," he replied affectionately. "Now _scram_ before Derek spots you. I'll make the excuses. You've earned it." Shaking his head at her one more time, grinning, Morgan ducked back out.

Not about to protest, Kala grabbed a jacket and yanked her boots on before dragging a surprisingly pliant and still very interested Jay along with her. Out the back hallway, past security, she could lose sight of everyone in the parking lot and make a flight for it. The absurdity of it had her laughing; she'd never snuck around before, except with Marlene, and even then the band had covered for them. This kind of goofiness was only for Jay, just like sneaking out of the gala and creeping back to his room at the Manor.

And it was glorious, until she heard Sebast's heartbeat close by, saw Morgan intercept him right in front of them as he was on his way back from whatever groupie he'd picked up for five minutes of fun. His green eyes locked on Jay and suddenly darkened with anger, and Kala's heart turned to ice as he looked to her with _what the fuck_ written in his gaze.

No way in hell was she gonna stop and make introductions. Kala made herself smile up at Jay and laugh as if it didn't hurt, as if meant nothing. How dare Sebast give her the evil eye when they both knew what he'd probably been up to with some overeager fanboy? She blew a kiss at him, unable to hide the regret in her expression, as she hustled Jay out of there.

As she reached the doors, she heard Sebast growl from behind her, and Morgan sigh quietly. "Hey, you gotta give her this, Sebast. If she's going to sneak around again, at least she's got good taste," Morgan offered.

"What the hell, since when does she run off with _fans_? And not just any fan, but the one _I_ was trying to find?" Sebast muttered back, and as the door closed behind her and Jay, Kala couldn't help turning for a look through it.

Morgan put his arm around Sebast's shoulder and hugged him sideways. "Hey, let her have her fun. There hasn't been anyone since Marlene, not even in Gotham. We've got no room to talk. Chill, man. You know she'll be home later." The wounded look on Sebast's face broke Kala's heart. _He's not mine_ , she told herself firmly, and she put it far from her mind, determined to lose herself in Jay for the evening. It was for the best this way.

…

It was inevitable that they'd end up back at Seventh Circle. The little dive was a bit more crowded tonight than it usually was, but the place had history for them, so it only made sense; besides, both of them were more comfortable in low-key anonymity. Jay could never have handled the 'it' club of the week, for one, wanting nothing to do with that side of the Gotham nightlife, and Kala would've attracted more attention than either of them wanted in her off-time. Then again, she'd told Jay once that her band got its start playing places like this, so of course she hadn't flinched at that first meeting, and now walked in like it was a second home.

Hitting the bar, Jay started to order Kala a hard cider, but she interrupted him, giving the bartender an apologetic grin. "Actually, you know what? Fuck it. Make it a zombie, if you can. Tonight's shift was a bitch and I feel like forgetting it all."

Jay and the barkeep both looked at her like she'd lost her mind. Of course, the bartender didn't know she had Kryptonian metabolism to cope with the alcohol, but Jay wondered why she was bothering. Maybe it had something to do with her co-singer crossing paths with them. "Give her what she wants," he told the bartender with a shrug. She grinned at him then, his phrasing of the words getting a laugh out of her; obviously it was something she needed to hear more often.

The bartender nodded and went to make their drinks, and Jay turned to Kala with a raised eyebrow. "You lookin' to actually get buzzed tonight?"

She shot him the rare pout, sighing. "Don't give me that look, Red. Anyone but you, okay? Life on the bus hasn't exactly been a picnic this last week. Told you that earlier," Kala explained with a telling look, lifting a shoulder. "So what the hell? I don't get a chance to just let it all go that often, and I'm here with you. Which I don't get to do enough lately, in my opinion. Who's more than up to the challenge if I have too much than you? I just need to blow off a little steam of the non-physical type. I think you'll like me even better not wound-up, really. Might just find that I'm a bit of a surprise that way." She quirked her lip up slightly, one dark brow raised suggestively.

That, Jay could agree with, even if her motives were probably at odds with his. When their drinks were set in front of them, he lifted his beer bottle, tipped it to Kala's glass with a toast, "To blowin' off steam," and took a long swig while she downed her shot in one swallow. He couldn't quite keep his eyes off of the pale column of her throat as the drink went down, and snaked a hand around her waist to pull her close for a kiss when she set her glass back on the bar.

Kala responded with an eager laugh, both hands cupping his face, her eyes agleam with wickedness. The tightness he'd seen in her was starting to disappear like it always did, the real world leeching away once they were on their own time. "Of course, I'm looking to get more than one kind of buzz tonight," she teased when they parted, noses still touching, a significant look in her eye.

He decided to be deliberately obtuse. "Oh yeah? I know where I can score some pot…"

And that got just the reaction he wanted. It was a familiar game, this cat and mouse they played at. Kala's hazel eyes rolled dramatically toward the ceiling, and she smirked at him before gifting him with another laugh. A real one. She was his K again, all knowing gaze and curved lips when she met his eyes again. "Right. 'Cause we both know you have such a good working relationship with the local dealers, Jaybird. I kinda had a few other ideas, since we obviously don't have anywhere to be this evening. But, you know, I could always head back to the hotel after we're done here, if you're not up for it. No harm, no foul." Kala made as if to get up, turning her face away from his at a speed that made her long hair fly, shrugging that one nonchalant shoulder again. Not fast enough for him to miss her grin, though. "Pretty sure I could find _someone_ in my legion of screaming fans to take care of it for me."

"The hell you will," Jay muttered, his hand tightening on the back of her jacket. Her eyes went lidded and she tensed up when he did that, a slow smile curving her lips. She knew, she always knew that he wouldn't just let her leave. The laughter burbling up from deep in her throat made that extra clear, Kala leaning in again to kiss him in a subtle cloud of sweetness and violets.

"Another?" the bartender asked, eyeing them disinterestedly.

Never taking her hands or eyes off Jay as she bit her lip lightly, Kala replied in a purr, "Make the next one a double rum and coke. Sounds like I might need to slow down a bit. I have the feeling that I'm actually gonna _want_ to remember the rest of the night, now."

…

Jay discovered something new about Kala that night: she was a horny drunk. With a zombie and a couple—or was it three?—rum and cokes with double the liquor, she was almost incendiary, tugging insistently at his shirt in the hallway while he was still trying to get the door of his apartment unlocked. "Easy, babe," he'd laughed, and she'd growled as he disarmed the traps and tugged her inside.

The next thing he'd heard was a faint sizzle, and his shirt had fallen off his body, seared at the seams by heat vision. "The hell with easy. It's fucking overrated," she'd said breathlessly, the look in her eyes unapologetically wanton, and he was all too happy to indulge her right there against the wall, just like the first time.

But this was _Kala_ , and she deserved better than that. Wasn't that why he was keeping this place almost spotless since she'd last been in town? He picked her up and carried her to the bed, where both of them fought for position, her greedy hands clutching as close as they safely could, almost as if Kala were trying to wrap herself up in him. She was desperately hungry for it, _demanding,_ even, and he knew the first round wouldn't even come close to sating her. At least it did seem to drain some of that desperation out of her, though, and as they both recovered, Jay smoothed a hand down Kala's side from shoulder to hip, the world slowly righting itself from the blissed-out tilt it had taken on, everything still fuzzy around the edges.

"So, you still wanna bitch me out for crashing your show?" he asked, nuzzling into her hair.

Kala laughed breathlessly, arching into his touch. With her cheek against his chest, her expression was mostly lost in the wild inky waves of her hair splayed across him. For now she seemed content, the last of the tension gone. "Nah. But I still might have to crash yours. I know you've been up to _something_ on the side, since I know you're not taking Bruce's money."

Answering her laugh with his own, Jay shook his head. "That'd be a neat trick. Seeing as what I do mostly involves sitting in front of a computer screen downstairs."

"Say what?" Kala responded, lifting her head and tossing her hair out of her face to eye him with a raised brow. Sliding an arm over his chest, she rested her chin there and looked up him, thoughtful. "What's this? You're actually sharing information, Red? I remember someone telling me, in a particularly ominous tone, that I didn't want to know." Those hazel eyes considered him for a long moment before that impish little smile curled in the corner of her lips. Oh, this was going to be good. "No, wait. Let me guess. You're the face behind the Calculator in your off-time," she snorted, flashing him a teasing grin and snickering. "Oh God, that'd be rich. I don't even want to _think_ what Babs would think."

A long breath, and Jay tore his gaze away. It was probably a combo of the post-club buzz and post-coital high, but he couldn't help feeling the need to just be out with it. All of it. What he did for money was the opening to the rabbit hole, a question that always made him tense up even if his current answer was fairly innocuous. Well, okay, still shady and illegal, but compared to some things… Explaining _why_ it made him tense would lead through a convoluted maze of crap, right into the clusterfuck of his past, which in turn was a giant heap of hell, secrets on top of lies on top of more secrets, and none of them pretty. He'd been feeling an itch in the back of his brain lately, a little voice telling him that if Kala didn't know just what lay behind him, it'd screw things over for them both in the future. It wasn't something he could hide forever. So maybe … maybe he should just bite the fucking bullet already. If he was lucky, it wouldn't send her screaming from the room, and either way, at least he'd know where they stood.

Anyway, he had a pretty good idea of Kala's past, and it wasn't so bright and shiny as he'd once believed, so why the fuck not? Maybe she'd even get it, understand just why he'd done the things he had.

"You absolutely sure you want to know?" he asked, eyeing her sideways. He had to be sure; there was just no going back if he did this.

And even without the specific words of warning, the teasing faded away and the suddenly-serious expression on Kala's face spoke for itself.

"Yeah, Jay. I want to know."


	56. Never Have I Ever

**Authors' Note:** Jay's past is full of bad luck, difficult decisions, no-win outcomes, and a whole lot of darkness. Be forewarned. Imagine everything a homeless teenage kid on the bad side of town could possibly face, and know it's probably in here. We're not going to get graphic with it, but there may be triggering content. We don't want to say _what_ exactly to avoid spoilers, so feel free to drop us a message if there's something you particularly want to avoid, and we'll let you know if you're safe to read on.

Also, this is officially the longest chapter of the fic. Damn, Jay, you bottle up your emotions for years and then just let it _all_ out at once.

* * *

The combination of the look in his eyes and the tone of Jay's voice made Kala more than a little uneasy. Of course she wanted to know what was going on. Why wouldn't she, if it was going to affect them both? Her eyes widened then, sudden comprehension flooring her. This much gravity could only mean one thing: he _was_ willing to actually talk about things tonight. Which meant that some of it was going be pretty damn dark, if he trusted her with it. Hell, more than some. She knew about the Joker, and Jay had let a few details slip here and there, but he'd obviously been trying to keep her at arms' length where some of the other nasty things in his past were concerned. He wasn't the only one with nightmares packed away in mental lock-boxes, though; she knew exactly what kind of darkness could be hiding behind a smirk and a flippant remark. She saw it in the mirror often enough, and he knew that about her, though not all of it. The fact that he was even _considering_ sharing only made her more sure that she wanted to know. They were past the point of keeping things from each other. On her side, particularly.

Only pausing a second, Kala nodded, searching his eyes. "Yeah, Jay. I want to know. Just what else have you got in that head of yours that you think is so horrific that you think you need to hide it from me?"

A slight wince, and Jay let out a sigh. "What you already know? Tip of the iceberg, K," he explained. Holding up a finger, he said, "Hang on, I'll be right back," and slipping away from her, he got out of bed and padded over to the kitchen area, coming back with a bottle of scotch and two glasses. Handing Kala a glass, he smiled faintly as she sat up, leaning her back against the wall and waiting silently for him to start. Bracing herself for anything and everything that could possibly come next.

"First off, no, we both know I'm not the Calculator," he said as he poured a finger of scotch in both their glasses, tossing his back immediately after and following it with another wince and a deep breath. "As if I could be that schmuck. He's a tax accountant, for fuck's sake."

Huffing out a laugh at the absurdity of Jay even having to deny being a fourth-rate villain, Kala shook her head lightly, her own drink going down easily. Maybe if she could just keep him from being too riveted on the bad stuff to come, he could get it all out. "Relieved to hear it. The signs were all there, but I couldn't bear jumping to conclusions. I could only hope with all my heart that maybe, just maybe, I was wrong," she murmured with deadpan intensity, deliberately widening her eyes. After a pause, she added in the same tone, "Besides, God knows that my self-esteem would never have been the same."

One corner of Jay's mouth twitched in amusement, but then he hesitated, his expression guarded as he poured another round. "You ever play 'never-have-I-ever'?"

"Yeah, a few times with the band," Kala answered slowly, giving him a wary look. The suggestion held a hint of the ominous, that whatever he was going to tell her needed a serious form of prompting. Sounded like maybe, just maybe, he was finally going to let her in. Which meant a night of serious monsters, indeed, if her guess was correct. "All right, you're on, Jaybird. You think you can keep up with me even after earlier?"

"Oh yeah," Jay smirked, his cheeks already starting to pink up from the liquor. "I'll start." And with a deep breath, he began, "Never have I ever raided the accounts of Gotham's biggest crime lords," before lifting his glass to drink down his scotch in one go.

Just like that, unvarnished and without any real warning, there was the first bomb in her lap. Kala's jaw dropped just about all the way to the floor, before she closed her mouth and blinked at him, making no move to follow suit. "Holy shit, Jay." It was another minute before she could work any further beyond that. Oh, yeah. Good thing she'd been expecting a gut-shot. Once she had her brain back online, Kala tried again. "Okay. Um. Just gotta check something. You do know this is the game where you only drink if you _have_ done something, right? And the point is to get the other person drunk first."

A slow smile, and Jay filled his glass again. "I'm aware."

That really widened her eyes when she paused to think of the scope of this confession. She'd known he'd been up to something, but this? This was not what she'd seen coming. The complete amount gutsiness of what he was alluding to here had her utterly floored. "So, wait a minute. Are you trying to tell me that … that you—"

"That I've been skimming off the assholes that are fucking this city sideways with a baseball bat? That's not new. But the fact that it'll only take five keystrokes to wipe all their accounts down to zero, _that's_ pretty recent, getting in that deep."

She could only stare, and he grinned mirthlessly. "Oh yeah. Black Mask? Broke. Nygma? Broke. The Falcones? Broke. Hell, even Cobblepot and Dent, both flat-ass broke. The beauty is, they don't even know it. At some point in the future, everything's gonna come crashing down around them, and they won't even have a clue how it happened," he finished with a smirk and a wink.

Kala felt the blood drain from her face, concern blooming in her chest. It wasn't as if Jay couldn't be relied on to watch his own back, but still. This? The consequences of this coming to light were staggering. "This … you … this is…." Still trying to untangle how she felt about Jay's confession, she had to take a deep breath and exhale it all before she tried again. "Okay, this had better be bullet-proof as far as the encrypting. Because, Jay, I have to say that I kinda have a vested interest in your ass being _alive_. They'll find a way to tear you to shreds if they have the slightest inkling…"

But Jay shook his head. "Nah. Chill, K. I'm not doing anything that dramatic. I was cutting into their profits the first time I wore the helmet, just starting from the drug trade up. Still am, every time I bust some of them. Feel sorry for Mask's clientele this summer, all their advance fees just disappeared. This is a little cleaner, a little safer. For now it's just keeping them on their toes, you know? And think about it for a minute. Who do you think taught me how to get into their systems and accounts?"

It came to her without a second thought. _Babs._ It had to be for him to be this sure. Again, she was thrown by what was going on behind the scenes. "Are you serious? Because that's—"

"A good way to cover my ass?"

Blowing out a breath, Kala shook her head. On one hand, the sheer audacity of what he was doing here blew her away. On the other, she knew it shouldn't surprise her, weighing in Jay's war on the city's parasites. Harrowing as the potential fallout could be, seeing the point in what he was doing wasn't too difficult. Add, too, the fact that Babs wasn't exactly novice at this kind of thing; there was no way she'd been coerced into this. Actually, for all she knew, it might have been Babs that had presented the idea to _him_.

"Okay, that round goes to you. If O's in on it, then I won't sit up at night wondering who I have to toast. But, just for the record? Holy shit. And now it's my turn, I guess?" Maybe it was best to switch it up, keep it from being too much of a downer on both sides. She was going to sound all too vanilla after that one, but maybe that was for the best; he was the one that really wanted to talk. What she had in mind might even make him laugh. When Jay nodded, she thought for a moment before she went on, "Okay. Never have I ever had an inappropriate crush."

Jay choked on a laugh, and Kala couldn't help but follow suit, letting her own laugh bubble up. Because really, how could she go from something as dangerous as what he'd just confessed to something so … so utterly innocuous? Nevertheless, Jay tipped up his glass and swallowed his drink. As did Kala.

"You first," he nodded, settling back and lifting an eyebrow. "Who on Earth could the Kryptonian Princess possibly have crushed on in an inappropriate manner?"

Kala laughed again. "Who said anything about Earth?" she countered.

"Oooh, touché," Jay chuckled.

"Mm-hmm." Tucking her hair behind an ear, Kala took a breath. "Okay, so, you heard about the Legion? Those guys from the future with the time-travel rings?" When Jay nodded, she went on, "Jase and I ran into them a couple of times when we were still pretty young. We helped them out with a little problem and after that, I ended up with the worst crush on Rokk. Nursed it for a year or so, too, even though we didn't see them again for a while after. I mean, yeah, sure, he's Cosmic Boy and all, but he's also like a thousand years younger than me if you look at birth dates. I could be his great-grandmother a hundred times removed or something, and here I am, macking on what I see is a gorgeous guy who knows my future. _Totally_ inappropriate."

Jay snorted at that. "Seriously? _Cosmic Boy?_ Come on. That's not even in same _league_ as inappropriate."

"What can I say?" Kala said, lifting a shoulder. "I was young, impressionable, and didn't know any better."

"Yeah, and when I was young, I had a massive hard-on for Nightwing. Things could be worse." A long, silent moment passed in which Kala saw his face go red, shock seeming to hit both of them at the admission, and Jay dropped his face into his palm. "Fuck."

Another truth-bomb, but one she'd long suspected. Kala couldn't help it, a full-throated laugh escaping her, hand going over her mouth as she tried to stifle the giggles. It just made so much sense. All that teasing over the summer, the way Jay had had such a bitch-fit over the thought of Dickie-Bird and the Super hooking up, all of the throwaway comments about Dick's ass and Jay's hero exception card … she should've known there was more to the story there than a joke.

"Aw, shut up already," he groused, refilling their glasses and staring into his intently. "It was a long time ago. I can't help it if he has the best ass in the whole cape and cowl community. Not like I'm telling you anything you didn't already know. Not even you were entirely immune to it, K."

"Mr. Todd, I have no idea what you're talking about. That was all part of the cover-story for being in Gotham. I was just playing the part," Kala protested, her cheeks warming as she lifted her chin in denial. It wasn't as if Jay didn't know she was full of crap; it was just a way to save face a little. As if they hadn't been bickering about that since before she finished up training.

"Yeah, right," he snorted in response.

"Well, whatever. Tell me something, Red, were you more pissed at me or him? This is starting seem like a pattern with you, taking our earlier conversation into account," she asked pointedly with a dark grin.

"Hey, hey. No fair," Jay protested, giving her a mock-pout. "I can't help it if I thought you two were screwing. It broke my brain."

Kala snickered. "Either way, all that grand-standing and sniping at each other should've been a clue that you two had unfinished business." It was too easy to think back to all the squabbling between Dick and Jay, how personally he took most of what Dick said, even when he had his façade firmly affixed. Now that the final piece was in place, she wondered how she'd only guessed before.

"All right, already," Jay said with a roll of his eyes. "Ha ha. Get it out of your system yet?"

"Some time in the next decade, maybe. After all the hell you put me though over that, you deserve every last minute of this."

"Yeah, you got in a good laugh at my expense. Now is it my turn already?"

The look of droll annoyance of his face made her smile soften with affection. Okay, so maybe it'd been a low blow to have enjoyed that so much. It seemed like any time he was caught out on anything, Jay looked for all the world like a rain-soaked cat, all wounded dignity in his scowl. And she found it just as irresistible as always.

She leaned to kiss his cheek then, ignoring the sour look she was getting. It was so rare to get a chance to throw a little hell at him for things that she just hadn't been able to resist. "Oh, calm down. We both know your secrets are safe with me. And, to be fair, I can completely see why it would be a bitch to deal with, what with the whole 'adopted brothers' thing."

Jay threw her a sour look at that. "You don't know the half of it. Getting caught staring jaw-dropped and drooling by the object of your affection is _not_ a fun way to end a patrol. Especially after having overheard Bruce giving Dick the infamous hugger a nice, long lecture about why they needed to, and I quote, 'give Jason a lot of personal space'."

Kala's brain turned a few somersaults to try to work that one out, and after a moment she realized that her focus had slipped away. Shaking her head, she raised an eyebrow. "Wow. Is there smoke pouring out of my ears? Because it kind of feels like there is. That is one … _interesting_ family dynamic, Red."

"You asked," Jay shot back, his lips finally quirking up again.

"I accept full blame, then," Kala agreed, another small laugh escaping her. "Okay then, it's your turn," she said with a nod, still grinning. "Fire away. I completely earned it with the giggle-fit."

This time, Jay gave her a wicked smirk, then said, "Never have I ever fucked a coworker. Not including us."

Kala couldn't help a look of irritated amusement at that one. _Shit, I knew he was going to be vindictive._ "You ass! You would, wouldn't you?" she sputtered, color up again while she chuckled. "You're rotten, Jay. Rotten to the core. You just couldn't resist bringing up Marlene, huh? I never should've told you about that." Still, she drank her scotch in one swallow and then held it out again while Jay just grinned darkly at her and refilled her shot. The only grace in this one was that only she knew that the separate shots were not for two go-arounds with her tour manager, but one for Marlene and one for Sebast. The sooner she made herself forget that last, the better it would be for all involved. It never should've happened in the first place.

"Nope, I sure couldn't, and nope, you really shouldn't have," Jay laughed.

She smirked at him then, looking down her nose at him imperiously. "And that, Red, is the reason why you are an asshat who has privileged information. Dirty pool, sir, dirty pool. My turn." _See him try to deny this one._ As embarrassment-inducing as this could be, she had to admit that it was turning out far more fun than she'd expected so far. But she knew it couldn't last forever, even as she pressed on. "Okay, fine. One for us both, wise guy. Never have I ever snuck out of family responsibilities to have some of the hottest sex of my life." It was Kala's turn to cast a sinful little grin at him, knocking back her shot.

"Touché again," Jay snickered, tossing back his scotch. But his eyes took on a wicked gleam as he seemed to realize she'd drunk, too. "I suppose you _are_ practically a Bat now, yourself, so our little tryst counts for you, too. Unless that wasn't for us," he finished with a raised brow.

Kala let out a sharp laugh and stuck her tongue out at him. He deserve to wonder about that one after that last potshot. "Wouldn't _you_ like to know? Maybe, maybe not. Next?"

Refilling his glass, Jay appeared to chew on his words, thinking. "All right. Never have I ever appeared half-naked in a prominent men's magazine."

Oh hell, she should've known that shit would get brought up _again_. " _Oh, come on_! Hey! What the hell is it with you and underhanded tricks tonight, you big jerk?" Kala sputtered, throwing a pillow at him. "Dammit, those shots weren't half-naked! Everything important was covered, so there, and it was promotion for the tour." Nevertheless, she swallowed her drink in one gulp. She gave him a positively bratty smile when she licked her lips, her glare far from a threat. Was she ever going to hear the end of this? Probably not any time soon, especially since she knew he had a copy of the damn thing squirreled away somewhere. "And I didn't hear anyone but Bruce complaining at that table, you included." Arching a brow in challenge, she leaned forward and smirked at him. "Fine then, if we're going to pull no punches, let's up the ante on the questions. After this, no more safe questions. Next one. Never have I ever been paid to take my clothes off. That I sure as hell _haven't_ done _,_ and you sure as hell haven't either." Kala knew the point of the game was to make the other person drink, but it was more important to her to establish that she did _not_ strip as part of her job.

But instead of the chuckle and teasing she expected, Jay only lifted his glass and drank without a sound, before refilling the glass.

And, without warning, the tone of the game shifted.

Maybe it was the alcohol or the abrupt change in direction, but her first reaction showed in her expression before she could stop herself. That had _not_ been one of the secrets she'd been anticipating. Kala tilted her head, waiting for the punchline, and got only silence and a steady stare.

He wasn't smiling. This wasn't some goofy undercover shit, something he'd done once for laughs. His expression said it was more than that, darker than that, and shock stole the breath right out of her lungs as she tried to process that single drink's meaning. Since when had he been a _stripper_? If Dick had said it, she'd picture Chippendale's and laugh, but there was nothing funny in Jay's eyes. Instinct demanded that she try to rationalize this away somehow, so she gave him a little glare. Even as she did it, she couldn't help the shiver that crept down her spine. _God, not that, too._ "Jay … that's not funny. Stop being…."

Rather than explaining, he caught Kala's gaze and said, "Never have I ever been paid for sex," before draining his glass in one go.

The world just froze around her then, their teasing laughter a long-forgotten memory. He _what_ _?_ Silent shock was all she was capable of at that revelation, while implications worked into her brain, swirling in a cycle of 'what-the hell' and 'oh, god, no' and 'that can't be possible'. Of all the things she'd been expecting to hear out of Jay's mouth, that was one she never would've guessed, that she could never remember him so much as hinting at. That quickly, one joke aside, and they were out of the blue and into the black. "Holy shit, Jay," was all she could say.

Jay only dragged his gaze away as he refilled his glass, seeming struck as silent as she was, looking … embarrassed? Ashamed?

She wasn't more than passingly religious, but Kala found herself praying fervently. _God, let me be strong enough to handle this. Let me not say anything stupid and make anything worse. I wanted to know. I want to know him, all of it, if he'll do it. Just let me be able to handle the knowledge._

Kala had known that there had been some pretty dark skeletons hidden in his past. He _had_ warned her before, when they'd first started this, so she couldn't claim to not have a clue; he'd just always backed away from talking about it. If he was willing to come out with it now, if he felt like he needed to tell her, she wasn't going to stop it. "How? And when?"

"Shouldn't your question be in the form of a 'never-have-I-ever'?" Jay shot back automatically, suddenly defensive. But then he frowned, looking away with shadowed eyes.

It was a couple of seconds before Kala could do more than reel at that sharp rebuke after the truth-bomb. He'd never wanted to talk about any of it, clammed up about most of his past after that night at Seventh Circle. Little tidbits of information, but never the big stuff. Not sure what he would do if she touched him, she reached out and gently brushed the tips of her fingers under his chin, willing him to look up at her. "Stop. Jay, forget the game. Just … tell me? Please?"

A long breath, and Jay drank down another finger of scotch and refilled his glass again, appearing to be mulling over his response and deciding to just be out with it. "It was for a couple of years before … before I was Robin," he answered quietly. He shrugged, and for a moment he looked so small, the image of a young teenager out working the streets coming to Kala unbidden, horrific, unfair, and so unbelievably _wrong._ "Had to make a living, and stealing tires wasn't all that lucrative," he finished with a chuckle then, his lips twisted with bitterness. "At least trying to boost Bruce's tires got me out of that mess."

If Kala had been drinking at the time, she might've done a spit-take at the full implication of it all, and she sat up more fully in the bed. It had been bad, he had told her before that things had been rough while his mom was sick, but she'd never guessed that it had reached those levels. That he had been that desperate. Sheer horror colored her words as she finally managed to react. "You … God, Jay, you … worked the streets? For a couple of _years_?" She hated herself for the way her voice sounded so weak, but it hurt to even think about. To think that this was even before Bruce took him in, which could only mean…. "Oh my God, Jay, how old were you?"

Jay still couldn't quite seem to look her in the eyes. "I was twelve. Celebrated my thirteenth birthday in the back seat of an old Chevy," he said, his voice so low it might as well have been a whisper. "And yeah. You'd be surprised at the sick shit that some guys are into." A deep breath, and he finally brought his eyes up to meet hers. "I mean, why the hell d'you think I keep such a low profile? I don't want to run the risk that some perverted asshole would recognize me. It's not really likely, but there's always a chance, and even if it'd mean mutually assured destruction, what with pedophilia guaranteeing jail time and a nice visit from your friendly neighborhood Batman, it's still a risk."

Some part of her mind compared the pictures she'd seen around the Manor of young Jay and the man in front of her, and knew no one would ever connect the two. He was being paranoid about it; this _was_ the man who wore a domino under his helmet. And also, he was probably still ashamed of it.

A long moment passed before Kala could speak again, then, "Yeah. I … I think I get it now." She was utterly floored, everything grounding her set adrift. Her heart broke for him just to hear this. Her lip stung from where she was biting it, the reality of what he was saying finally starting to sink in now as she narrowed her eyes. _How the fuck does something like this happen to a kid? And how much of that causes so many of his triggers?_ The fact that it had happened was disturbing enough, but she was no fool. Just because she'd never really seen it didn't mean that things like that couldn't happen. But to have it happen to someone she knew, someone she cared so much for, and to know that he'd been so _young_ _?_ She couldn't even imagine; never in her darkest hours had she ever thought of something like that happening to one of hers. And never had she even come close to making such a choice herself. It broke something inside of her just to consider the possibility.

At twelve, Kala had never been kissed, was mostly spoiled rotten by her extended family, and had refused to take a bite of Dustin's ice pop because it had boy-cooties. Never had their worlds looked so far apart. "Jay? Does … does Bruce even know?"

That brought Jay's focus squarely back on her. _"No,"_ he shot back emphatically. "And he's not gonna, got it?"

Anger practically flowed off him, a crackle of violence in the air even though he didn't move. Kala couldn't resist flinching away from his outburst. It hurt something fierce that he could suspect that she'd go behind his back after a confession like this. "Yeah. Yeah, I got it," she answered in a wounded tone. This time Kala turned away, crossing her arms under her breasts and hating herself for not shielding her reaction a bit had just been a shock; she'd thought she was prepared for anything. She'd been wrong. Never had she even suspected the possibility of this particular secret. And of course she'd wondered if Bruce, the greatest detective of all, had known this.

Evidently not. It made sense in the way Jay was so defensive, always hiding something. Keeping little bits of himself locked away so no one could look too close. Kala had to stop, run a jittery hand through her hair. She had to proceed with caution once they had stepped this far wrong. He could shut her out again if she wasn't careful. "Of course I won't tell Bruce. But Jay … that should never have happened to you. At any age. No wonder you try to be responsible for everyone and everything, if you were taking care of your mom so young. Just … Jay, tell me that you know that you're worth more than that? No wonder you can never see yourself more than…"

"Never said I couldn't see my worth," he shot back angrily before she could finish. But then he seemed to close in on himself again, gaze fixing squarely to his glass, where he poured himself another two fingers of scotch and sucked them down quickly.

Kala could only sit there, squeezing her eyes shut. Wrong move. Now wasn't the time to try to talk sense. She needed to just shut up and let him talk. He wasn't going to hear her until he wanted to. "I'm sorry," she whispered, willing him to listen. "I wasn't there. It wasn't me put in that situation, so I have no right to comment on it."

"It's just…" he started again, the muscle in his cheek jumping. "Sorry. Look, I was fucked over pretty damn good back then. It took Bruce getting me out of it to see that things could be better. That _I_ could be better."

Only watching him, Kala let him go on, not daring to interrupt. She remembered how he'd reacted to the boy they'd seen hooking out on patrol, that one night. How tense he'd been, and the way he'd known _exactly_ how to approach and what to offer. Jay had been defensive then, angry with her naivete, and now she finally understood why.

"Look, I don't want to freak you out, here," he said quietly. "Probably too late, but, there it is. And that's only the beginning."

As if she would leave him now, no matter how much she'd fumbled thus far. With any luck, they would come out whole and with a better understanding on the other side. She was shocked, and angry, and sad, but her feelings about this deeply-conflicted man hadn't changed an iota . There would be time later to sift through all of this and digest it. Now was about surviving the revelations to come. Reaching over, Kala settled a hand on his arm with a gentle squeeze. "I honestly don't think it'd be possible to _not_ be freaked out a little, Jay. It's not like you never warned me how dark it was. I'm just … I don't know what I was expecting, but I still want to know," she murmured softly, giving him a small smile she hoped would calm things a bit. "Gotta say, though. No wonder you brought out the good liquor."

That seemed to be enough to break the tension, and Jay ran a hand through his hair as he took a deep breath and met her gaze again. "Yeah. Yeah," he said with a little laugh. "You gotta understand, there was a lot of shit that led to all that. You know I was living on the streets of Crime Alley when Bruce found me. I'd grown up in the Bowery. My mom – well, technically she was my stepmom, but I never knew that and she raised me from a baby so she's my _mom_ – tried her best, she really did. But it's the _Bowery_. And my dad? He worked for Two-Face. Hired muscle, your basic thug."

Kala's spine straightened at that, in pure surprise, and Jay gave a dry chuckle. "Yeah, and don't think I don't appreciate the irony that the guys I beat up for Bat-missions are essentially the same kind of person my dad was. He wasn't a lieutenant or an under-boss or anything, just another goon. If it was a movie his name'd be way down in the credits, where only his family ever noticed it, right above 'pedestrian with briefcase'. Willis Todd, may he rest in peace. He always talked a big game, about how the next score was gonna set us up, how we'd move outta Gotham and how he was gonna take me and Mom to Disney, all that good shit. Problem was, the next big score never came off quite right, and he drank too much of the money he did make. Big dreamer, just never made it good like he always said."

"What happened to him?" Kala asked softly. Now she understood why Jay scoffed at pretension.

Jay laughed at the question, pouring a little more scotch into his glass. "If I wanted to be all poetic and shit, _Bruce_ happened. Dear old Dad was on the front line one night when Two-Face and Batman threw down, and he got the shit beat outta him like everyone else. The Wayne Foundation covers hospital bills for guys who don't have insurance – because stealing cars and running money for guys like Dent doesn't come with a fucking benefits package – but it didn't change the fact that there was no money coming in for two months while he was in a cast. I don't blame Bruce for that; my dad was a crook, he should've known better than to mess with the Bat, and Bruce didn't kill him."

He knocked back the scotch, and met her gaze flatly. "Dent did. When my dad could go back to 'work', he had a tough time of it. He wasn't as fast or as strong, he was knocking back Vicodin with liquor to deal with the pain, he was getting unreliable. Somebody must've told him Dent was gonna cut him loose if he kept on. So he decided, in typical genius Todd fashion, to screw over Two-Face before he got screwed. Big dreams, like I said. He tried to double-cross Two-Face. The murder's _officially_ unsolved, cops don't really care about a case that cold, but anyone can connect the dots. Either Dent did him in, or one of his guys pulled the trigger. Doesn't matter. He was shot behind the wheel of a stolen car. Mom just thought he was out drinking again, until the cops called her in to ID him."

Kala swallowed, wanting to reach out to him, but as blasé as he was being, that had _had_ to hurt at the time. She didn't want to knock the callous off an old wound and have him snap at her when they were finally talking about this. "I can't imagine how that felt."

"It sucked," Jay said. "Mom tried to hold it together, she had two jobs and other stuff on the side, we lived in some real shitholes because that's all she could afford. I got free breakfast and lunch at school and she made sure I ate okay at home. One of her jobs was waitressing because she could snack off people's plates if they didn't finish, and the staff usually got one free meal per day, even if it sucked. School supplies and clothes were a bitch, a car was totally out of the question, but she kept me fed and kept the lights on. She loved me, she did everything she could."

"She sounds like a good mom," Kala put in softly. She had been raised by a single mother at first, but Lois Lane had always had a support network. Catherine Todd, it seemed, hadn't had anyone.

"Yeah, she was. And then she got sick." Jay found his glass empty and poured more. "She couldn't work, so I had to grow up really fucking fast. We needed money for doctor's visits and medicine, money for food and bills, and I was the only one who could bring it in. Theft, first, that's what my dad did and I was pretty good at it. But I wasn't old enough to boost cars, and I looked really out of place in any store that had a really good score, so I couldn't exactly become the male version of Catwoman."

He sighed. "We needed the money – and after she died, if I wasn't gonna be in foster care, _I_ needed the money. It was either run drugs and guns for the neighborhood gangs, or use my natural assets and answer to nobody, so I chose the latter," he finished with a shrug.

"You should never have had to make that decision," Kala told him, her voice shaking a little. To have lost both parents so young … Bruce was an orphan, he'd watched his parents get murdered, but he'd never been cold or hungry. No one else in that house _really_ understood, and Kala didn't fool herself that she did, either. She could imagine, but this had been his _life_. Bitter and ugly and terrifying, yet he'd survived.

No wonder he could be so damn fatalistic.

Jay just shrugged again. "Shit happens. At least I never had to go back to it later on, after my war with Bruce was over. Of course, I was too big and too intimidating to be marketable by then, so I just found the pimps who were exploiting kids and … well, by the time I was done they didn't need their money anymore. There's more money in the big human trafficking rings, and I hunted them for a while, squirreling away everything I took from them. Spoils of war, K. Dirty money, but it's how I bought this building and the cars and stuff. Hacking the bad guys here in town, that's like … an investment portfolio."

For another long moment, Kala sat silently, continuing to process the bombshells as he lobbed them, her heart aching with shock and anger, then helplessness and sorrow. _Marketable,_ what a cold phrase applied to someone she knew, to something so brutally wrong. Finally she responded, "I … I don't know what to say. Except thank you. For trusting me."

"Well, y'know, being half-alien and all, I figured you might not run screaming into the night," he laughed. "Also, since we've been fuckin' for a while and even though we use protection, you should know I'm clean. That's a goddamn miracle, considering."

She just sighed. That callous disregard was because he was protecting himself, she knew. "I don't even know if I can still _catch_ anything, Jay. My immune system is pretty sharp. And I don't care, either, you're still you and I'm still me. If you _were_ positive or something we'd just be extra careful with condoms."

Jay smirked at her. "My ray of fucking sunshine. Careful, K, thinking like that is how end up with genital warts and shit like that."

"Yeah, probably immune, and you're a jerk," she said, rolling her eyes. She needed to get him away from this particular topic before he started putting himself down – and before she started crying. "So, tell me what happened. With all that with you and Bruce."

A corner of Jay's mouth tugged upward despite the old despair that'd settled into his eyes. "For that I have to back up a bit. Remember how I said I let myself out of the hospital after I spent a fucking year in a coma?"

Kala nodded slowly, knowing to brace herself for the answer now that he'd started to tell her. She'd known for months that something was eating away at him from the inside. Things that stalked his thoughts. Whatever they were, it had to have been seriously bad from the haunted shadows she saw in his eyes.

"Well, I wasn't right. Pretty severely brain-damaged, if you wanna be honest, but I still knew how to fight, so nobody messed with me much. I spent a few months out on the streets, mostly living in alleys and under bridges, wherever I needed to go, stealing food out of trash cans when I was hungry and sleeping wherever I was when I got tired. Until Talia al Ghul found me, and took me back to her father's compound to try to 'fix' me."

"So, she just kidnapped you right off the street?" Kala said with startled disbelief, even knowing that she shouldn't be surprised after that she'd heard about the woman over the summer. Dammit, that explained a lot. The Joker had taken him, lack of ID had taken him, and now that bitch daughter of Bruce's one-time teacher had taken him. What was next, _aliens?_ At this point, she certainly wouldn't doubt it, considering her own heritage, and what she knew about the threats out there.

A nod, and Jay went on, "She actually paid someone else to grab me. The al Ghuls have servants for that kind of thing, y'know. Didn't so much as bat an eyelash doing it, either. Just took me back to one of their bases somewhere in the middle of a desert."

She stopped him with a frown, trying to keep up. "Wait. I'm lost. Where?" Kala knew he'd been somewhere else thanks to his un-PC remarks over the summer, but it hadn't occurred to her yet that she and Jay had both been held in their enemies' _desert_ lairs. For her, it was Nevada; for him, it'd been across the ocean. Creepy-crawlies started in on her nerves at the thought.

Jay snorted. "Not even I know exactly, K, but I'd put my bets on the Middle East or Asia Minor. Ra's has hidey-holes all over the place, usually in the most godforsaken desolate corners of the world. Practically uninhabitable deserts and mountains, usually set up around a Lazarus Pit. It's just the two of them and their servants, who practically fucking worship the family, so it's kinda like living with a cult."

"Right. The Demon's Head and his demon spawn. Middle of the nameless desert. Give me a second." Reaching for the bottle, Kala took the scotch and poured herself a whole glass; if this was going where she thought it was going, she was gonna need it a hell of a lot more than Jay. "Okay, go on," she said, before taking a long drink. "You probably should tell me what a Lazarus Pit is, by the way." God, she was sure she didn't want to know—and wasn't _this_ conversation starting to sound familiar?

"It's like a … rejuvenation pool," Jay explained, "a fountain of youth, or something like that. Heals your wounds, makes you younger, and in my case fixed everything that childhood malnutrition fucked up; I came out taller than I went in. Except, you _also_ come out completely whacked out of your skull. Vicious, paranoid, violent as hell – which yeah, is part of why I wanted Daddy Bats' head on a platter when I showed back up. It's also half the reason Bruce keeps having to fight that fucker, because Ra's is a raving lunatic who's been doing this shit for seven hundred years. And Talia isn't much better, she's been through it too, enough times to permanently change the color of her eyes. You noticed when you saw her, right? That particular green isn't natural; I remember when her eyes were brown. These days she's almost as whacked as her dad. Bruce is supposedly the love of her life, but that didn't stop her from financing my war on him."

He took a deep breath, shoulders tensing, and continued, "Or from fucking me after giving me the _kris_ and telling me to go punish Bruce for what he'd done to both of us. I knew it was fucked up, but I'd just turned eighteen and she was the hottest fucking thing I'd ever laid eyes on."

Kala couldn't help gaping at that, the wheels in her head starting to smoke again. It was all she could do to keep up with the rapid-fire revelations. "Wait, she did _what_ , now? Isn't she totally obsessed with Bruce? Why would she…" But then she knew the answer. How could she not? Her face whitened as the full force of what that meant struck her. "She … Jay, that's fucking _twisted_. Even for them. With as bound up in Bruce as she sounds, that she would…" She knew the Bats went in for some fantastically off-the-wall stuff, but this … this was pushing it. No way would Jay make this up. She'd seen, and been told, the worst of him; or, at least, she _thought_ she had. Jesus, were worse things than she'd heard even _possible_?

Catching her gaze, Jay clenched his jaw, then nodded. "She kept me for almost a year, got all their fancy physicians to look me over, because apparently all my fighting instinct was still intact even if I couldn't _talk_ , and her nutjob father was convinced I was nothing but a shell. Good ol' Daddy Demon was gonna send me to a home somewhere. Talia wasn't gonna let that happen, so she resorted to throwing me in the Pit even though her dad almost killed her for it. I got my memory back then, for sure. Hell, it took away all the scars I had. Even the ones the Joker left on my face. But it also left me so fucked in the head that all I wanted to do was get revenge on Bruce for not killing Joker. Everything wrong with me already got dialed up to the breaking point."

She could only stare at him, knowing he could see the heartbreak in her eyes. "Jay, there was nothing _wrong_ with you…"

"Oh yeah there was. I was always the bad Robin, always had anger issues. I'll give you the whole story someday," Jay said with a harsh laugh. "Within a month being back, I had a bomb on the Batmobile, but I decided not to do it. Because it was too _easy_ , after all I'd suffered. Same with Joker, I had him in my sights once and let him go, because it wasn't _enough_. In the end, the best way I knew how to screw Bruce over was to kill a whole lot of assholes, and try to make him kill _me_ before I could kill Joker. I lost that one, we're all three of us alive, but at least I got to hear him admit he'd fucked up. Course, after that I realized Talia was running me like a trained dog, and I split. You know how I ended up in Gotham again."

Kala's blood turned to ice in her veins at this new revelation. As if selling himself on the streets hadn't been bad enough. Good God, what kind of hell must that have been, on top of everything else? Had he _ever_ been allowed to have any kind of control over any portion of his life? It was amazing that he could even function half as well as he did with all of this in his past. Part of her wanted to go smash Bruce in his damn face for his part in this little tale, but she forced that part down, unwilling to break Jay's trust, even if Bruce really deserved it. And—

Something he said stuck in a loop in her mind. Scars on his face? Her belly iced over again in an instant. "Wait. What do you mean, the Joker left scars on your face?" _Please don't be what I think,_ she pleaded silently. Because she'd seen photos of some of the Joker's victims, their mouths slashed wide open. She shivered to even consider it.

Jay blew a breath out his nostrils, and downed another finger of scotch. "You wouldn't know it to see me now," he started slowly. "But when he had me in that warehouse, the bastard put his knife inside my mouth and sliced me open from ear to ear, _laughing_ the whole fucking time. I'd never seen so much blood. So much of _my own_ blood." But he lowered his gaze, staring into his empty glass. "By then, he'd already started with the crowbar. Took a few more whacks after, and left me for dead."

There it was, the blackest of it. Kala caught her lower lip between her teeth, stifling a whimper, face crumpled in pain as if she herself had been struck. That had to be where his night-terrors came from, what he drank so heavily to get away from. This madness from the Lazarus Pit was one thing; the Joker, however, was Jay's very own version of Dru-Zod. She could feel it in her bones. Their recent encounter with the Joker haunted her even now; she'd never know just how horrifying it had to be for him to relive it. Just the memory of being in his presence that short time chilled her; never before or since had she encountered a being of such pure chaos. Evil for evil's sake. Because it was fun. Madness in its purest form.

And Jay had been alone with the son of a bitch, no older himself than she'd been when Luthor had taken her. Every detail he'd revealed brought another round of fresh revulsion. Cut like that, his very _face_ maimed, and then to have been beaten that way with a blunt object. There would be no reasoning with Joker, no way to make it stop, no use in tears and pleas. Just sharp pain that didn't end. All of this done just to make a statement, to get Bruce's attention. Done to a _child_. _Evil for evil's sake._

The utter horror of it sank in slowly and robbed her of a response, her eyes burning as she held back tears. All that she'd suspected hadn't even approached the reality of what he'd gone through. She felt physically ill, black rage and heartbreak tangling in her belly. How could he have endured this and still have his own mind? How? How could this have been allowed to happen? Where the hell was _Bruce_ when this was happening? "Jay … I…" she whispered, then couldn't speak further. What could she possibly say to all that? How could she even _begin_ to make anything right?

When Jay's eyes met hers again, she found herself trapped in his gaze, a hard glint there that wasn't before. "You need to know. If I ever get my hands on the Joker, without Bruce standing there to stop me, I _will_ kill him. If that's too much for you to handle, now would probably be a good time to jump ship."

For a moment, everything ground to a halt. He'd given her a perfect excuse to exit stage-left, to get out before any of this could touch her. Little did he know that it was far too late for that. Had been for a while now, if she was honest with herself. Kala didn't hesitate in her response, her voice rough. "Not on your life. I'm not going anywhere, so you'd better get used to it. Yes, this is the kind of shit that never goes away, but I'm kind of invulnerable, so I'm not worried about that." Her gaze grew feral then, a cold darkness there that she knew Jay wasn't used to seeing. "And if you don't kill him, _I will_. One of these days he's going to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Accidents happen. He should've been brought down years ago like the mad dog that he is. I know what everyone else will say, but it needs to be done. I wouldn't blame you at all."

Jay just stared at her then, seemingly dumbstruck. That didn't seem to be the response he'd been expecting; if it wasn't, he hadn't been paying enough attention. "Kala, I could never—"

Stopping him with her fingers pressed over his lips, she glared at him. It was against the code her father stood for and she knew that, but it was one of those things that they disagreed on. It just wasn't right. Not in this case. "You're not. And don't you dare give me some bullshit line about sullying my soul. I told you before and I know you read my file. As much as I want to, I can't be Dad. It's too late for that; has been for nearly a decade. I've heard it all before and the party line doesn't change facts, Jay. Sometimes it's just gone too far to go back.

"And it's not just you, although that's reason enough for me. Look at what he did to Babs. Not to mention the maimings, the kidnappings, all of the civilians that we've lost to him. No, killing isn't right, we have no right to play God with these monsters. But in this case it's more than justified. It's been necessary for a long time. The Joker's like a disease, a cancer, and there's only one way to stop something like that from spreading. I've looked him in the face, remember, Jay? I almost got too close that time, but someday he won't get that lucky. And you know damn well what I've done. I'm no stranger to dispatching megalomaniacs to save lives. Done it before, and I'll do it again if the opportunity presents itself. And I'll find a way to live with it. How many lives would that save? How many would it have saved if he'd been put down after you, after Babs? I can live with that blood on my hands."

Blinking, Jay shook his head, then tore his gaze away from hers as he took her hand gently in his. "It's not your fight," he protested halfheartedly.

"Bullshit, it's not my fight. I'm a Super; saving the human race as a whole is my first priority. And he's a threat to all that cross his path. If no one else does, if no one else can, I'll find a way. This should never have gone on this long. I can't believe that no one did anything about this," Kala spat, fingers tightening around his. After setting both their glasses aside, she cupped his cheek with her free hand and forced him to look at her.

"Maybe he'll be caught by the back of the coat a little too hard when we're trying to take him in. Maybe we'll be a little too late getting there when he and one of the other monsters in this town duke it out." Her eyes were shining, no chance of hiding the tears now. "Like I said, right or wrong, accidents happen. You should know that. Jay, how could you possibly think that I could live with myself if I just let it go, after hearing all of what he did to you?"

…

The things Kala was suggesting floored Jay for a moment, his jaw dropping as he caught her gaze. No doubt, this was the darkest part of her, that he'd only seen … well, when they'd faced the Clown months before. He couldn't deny that it thrilled him a little, seeing this dark side, but the fact that she was willing to back him up, to help him, to even do the deed if necessary, was almost more than Jay could take. Nobody had ever had his back like this. No one had stood by him in the things he'd had to do to try to save Gotham from the motherfuckers that he'd had the misfortune of meeting first. Bruce sure as hell hadn't, especially not when it counted.

So _this …_ he couldn't quite wrap his mind around it, a surge of shame and … and _guilt,_ of all things, welling up in his chest. He couldn't let Kala get herself in this deep, not when the Joker didn't take prisoners for long, not when one measly encounter wasn't anywhere near enough to prepare her for the shit he'd pull when it came down to it.

But … she was right; she _wasn't_ Big Blue, would never be. And no matter how hard he tried to cover her ass so his world wouldn't come down on her and dirty up the 'S' she didn't even wear, it was gonna happen, in one way or another. Kala's eyes were a little more open to the evils of the world than he wanted to admit. It wasn't just the liquor talking; she'd said before that some just couldn't be saved. And if the Joker bit the fucking dust … well, it'd still be by _his_ hand, but damned if he'd say 'no' to a little assistance.

Blinking as everything seemed to fall into place, Jay realized that Kala was watching him intently, her eyes burning with the need to … to do things that only a girl with her abilities _could_ do to make everything all right, even if it meant crispy-frying the Clown herself. She wasn't quite acting as the Empress right now, but he saw that other self's shadow in her eyes. No fear in her, just anger.

The mere thought of the Joker being burned into a lump of carbon was enough to ease the tension in Jay's shoulders, relief spreading through him. He couldn't help pressing his cheek into her touch, letting his eyes drift closed. "Okay, look," he started, knowing he was talking to Kala's dark side as well as the girl he knew. "I know there's not a damn thing I could do to stop you if you got it in your head to, and I appreciate the sentiment. I _really_ do. But his ass is mine to finish off. _Mine_. It has to be me, Kala."

At last, the promise of certain doom in Kala's eyes softened, and she leaned forward to rest her forehead against his, finally coming in close again. Her speech showed that entwining of darkness and light. "As you wish. But know this: one night, he will just be a bad memory, and someday not even that. I promise," she whispered. "You survived all of this, all of the sucker punches that Gotham has thrown at you, and one day, I promise that it will not be for nothing. I just … want you to know that you can trust me. _Truly_ trust me. Please? With all this, all that you have told me. I am where I want to be, and you will not stand alone. Not again. And … I'm glad you told me."

Jay let out a long breath. Kala hadn't run away, and she wasn't gonna. With all that he had yet to tell her … fuck, he realized that he might as well, now. She _needed_ to know. Every last detail, the full depth of the rabbit hole, and he knew now that he wanted to share it with her, the good and the bad and the evil as hell.

Nuzzling into her touch, he decided at last that it was time to give her his File, capital 'F' for 'Fucked All to Hell'. But not right at this moment. Later, in the morning. Right now, Kala was here, nothing pressing on the schedule, a warm presence in his bed and at his side, understanding—finally, somebody who fucking _got it_ —and he wasn't about to let the night go to waste.

When Kala gently pressed her lips to his forehead, Jay tipped his face up to hers, and she slipped across the space between them and into his lap. Her skin was warm against his, as it always was when she was getting enough sun, a contrast to the chill autumn air, and Kala kissed him, her lips tracing his features.

But this wasn't passion, it wasn't her dark side talking now. Her kisses were soft, caressing, more gentle than he was used to with her, almost like she was afraid of hurting him after the buckets of crazy that he'd just dropped.

As if she could.

Catching her lips with his in a deep kiss, Jay wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close against him, and her fingers brushed up over his shoulders, his neck, and into his hair. Kala moved against him slowly, her movements sure and deliberate, and Jay realized belatedly that it wasn't that she was afraid of hurting him, it was that she thought she was giving him what he needed: an outlet.

Not wasting another second, he shifted Kala down onto the bed, breaking their kiss briefly, and caught her gaze as he ran a hand through her hair in return. Kala nodded slowly, tipping her head up, and it was like Jay was being offered the moon.

 _Jesus fuck._

Catching her mouth again, Jay descended on her like a man starved, maneuvering them on the bed and sliding between her legs, wrapping them around his waist with quick, sure movements. He couldn't get enough of her, his body surging with want, even through the cloud of alcohol making everything fuzzy.

But he at least had enough sense about him to pause, stilling his movements against her as he reached over to the night table and fished a little packet out of the drawer, ripping it open quickly and rolling the condom on. Shit, he was surprised he could still get it up, with all he'd had to drink, but … but this was _Kala;_ the sheer want he felt for her was stronger than the scotch, at any rate.

Settling against her again, he propped himself up on an elbow and brushed a hand down her face to her neck, trailing his touch down over her breast and her belly until he caught her hip with a firm squeeze. With one long stroke, he slid into her, gasping with the motion. His whole body was on fire, freezing him in place as his hips found hers, skin to skin, and he nuzzled close to kiss her again, their tongues dancing together.

After a long moment, he started to move, slowly, and it wasn't the half-playful rough and tumble, it wasn't greedy and fast. It _could've_ been, with the way his head was swimming, but Kala somehow tempered it, her hands smoothing along his back and shoulders, her legs cradling him close to her, tugging him into her. And the sounds; God, the sounds she made. Tiny whimpers, broken moans, high desperate cries. Maybe it was the liquor, maybe it was the way she kissed him like they had all the time in the world, but somehow she took the edge off his hunger without dampening the heat of it.

Cupping her face as he kissed her, he shifted his pace, going for deep instead of rough, and she gasped and arched her head back, before moaning softly against his mouth, "Yes, oh yes." His name fell from her lips then, trailing off into another kiss, and Jay couldn't help a shiver. Screw the alcohol, he was drunk on Kala alone.

His senses overwhelmed, Jay's arms and legs started to tingle with the need for release as he moved within her. He wanted to hold back, to make this last, but every nerve ending was alight with need. His whole body shook with the effort of delaying the inevitable, his world beginning to narrow, and he caught Kala's starry-eyed gaze then, her lips curved and red in the low light, then buried his face against her neck, Kala pressing another kiss to his hair as she let out a low moan.

With no warning, she bucked her hips hard against him, picking up the pace. A whine escaped him, and she did it again, this time tightening around him.

"Let go, Jay," she whispered, words hot and soft against his ear. "Let it all go; give it to me. Your past doesn't change who you are. We both know I can handle it. And I'm not going anywhere. I _want_ to be here. I want _you_. _Please_ , Jay."

And that was all it took to send him careening over the cliff, her words, her body surrounding his, wrapping him up in her, holding him close. Not scared off by where he'd been, what he'd done. The world closed down to a single point of pleasure, his release sending shocks through him as he tensed and came, his hips thrusting against hers and lifting her partly off the bed as the shout tearing itself from his throat diminished to a long whimper, sudden tears pricking at the corners of his eyes at the shock of it. He almost couldn't breathe then, his body quivering, but he managed to gasp for air as Kala stiffened beneath him, tightened around him again, squeezing, her nails digging in _just right._

Kala shivered, her own cry drawing out to a low moan, and for the longest moment they trembled together, aftershocks rocking them. Then Kala found Jay's mouth again, and their kiss was so deep that Jay's lungs started to burn for lack of oxygen.

It was almost too much, the aftermath of all that, the sheer intensity of it, but at last Jay slowly eased back enough to settle her on the bed again, reaching down to gently withdraw from her.

The motion pulled a broken little moan of loss from Kala and a gasp from Jay, both overloaded and entirely too sensitive, and with a parting kiss, he rose up to discard the used condom before settling next to her, stretching out along her side and pulling her close. There was no need for words yet, Jay's mind still swimming, the reality of everything he'd told Kala sinking in slowly. Most of the fallout would come later, in the light of day, but not tonight. Not now.

After a long while, Kala smiled lazily up at him, practically purring, her eyes shaded. Inching over a little, she curled herself against him and murmured, "The boys can say what they will. We don't have rehearsal in the morning, so I'm staying the night. At the very least, to keep the nightmares away."

Jay chuckled low in his throat, feeling the sting there from overuse and too much alcohol. "You think you're that scary, huh?"

"No, but I think we've just proven that I'm that distracting," came her murmured reply, and Kala leaned up to seal the words with another kiss, smiling against his lips.

That was definitely something Jay could agree with, and as he tugged her closer, smoothing her hair down, he returned her kiss in equal measure, glad now that he'd bought that third-row ticket.


	57. One Bullet at a Time

**Authors' Note:** Be forewarned, there's more details about Jay's past in this chapter.

* * *

It hadn't happened enough times for Kala _not_ to relish waking up in Jay's arms. She'd set her phone alarm before going to sleep, not wanting to repeat the frantic morning-after scramble of their first night together, and it went off at a reasonable hour, letting her hit the snooze button to enjoy a few more minutes of snuggling.

Jay, however, just groaned and burrowed into her shoulder. _Aw, I think someone overestimated their ability to keep up. That's gonna be a bitch of a hangover._ A fond little smile tugged at her lips at that, and Kala turned to kiss his temple gently. "Hey, you," she murmured.

His groaned reply was unintelligible. Kissing him again, she murmured softly, "If you let me up, I'll get you some Alka-Seltzer. Or whatever you have around for hangovers." He just grunted again, but loosened his arm enough for her to slither out from under it and get up.

After a search of his medicine cabinet turned up at least some aspirin, Kala came back with a glass of water and a couple pills. "Here, Jaybird. Drink up, and take something for the headache. I shouldn't have let you hit the bottle quite so hard. I can run to the corner; pretty sure Murray's has Alka-Seltzer or at least ginger ale."

"Scotch was fine," he growled, and drank, popping a pair of aspirin. "I can deal. But thanks."

"You're welcome," she replied, taking a seat in the weak sunlight beginning to bleed through the shades. Her tongue felt a bit fuzzy and a faint ache lurked around her temples, but other than that Kala was no worse for wear. Thank God for Kryptonian metabolism. Still, she'd be flying above cloud-cover on the way back.

Jay noticed and looked at her almost sourly. "Of course you're perky Ms. Sunshine no matter how much you drink," he grumbled.

"Comes with the territory, but not as perky as you think, trust me," Kala replied, stroking his hair out of his eyes. "You sure you're gonna be all right?"

"'M used to it," he grunted back.

She gave an aggravated sound at that; yeah, she was getting a little tired of him overdoing it. Kala reached over him, grabbed her pillow, and lightly whapped him over the head with it. "You listen to me, tough guy. You need to get _un_ used to it. Stop drinking so damn much, Jaybird. I don't like my men pickled." He only smirked at that, but she still appreciated getting a little humor from Jay—especially considering the revelations of last night, which they weren't going to discuss in detail again. At least not so soon.

They had a little more time together, time she cherished, but all too soon Kala had to head back to the hotel. Jay stole another long hug and kiss as she was getting dressed, and she savored it. "I'll be back as soon as I can. We don't pull out until day after tomorrow," she promised him before heading out. With a little luck she might even be able to get back that night.

Back at the hotel she ran the gauntlet of Derek's nagging, Sebast's pouting, Morgan's smirking, and Robb and Ned's utter perplexity. Fortunately, after she brutally shot down Derek's lecture on responsibility, the look on her face convinced them all not to pester her about _who_ she'd gone home with.

Practice was about standard. The band liked to noodle a bit in the beginning, play some silly things just to warm up, but if Derek was anywhere around he'd have hysterics and insist they work on their own music and be professional about it. Kala managed to shut him up, _again_ , by swinging her microphone stand in a threatening manner, and Sebast backed her up with the obligatory too-long look at Derek's ass. Once he was gone they ran through a set of children's songs, power ballads, and even a country tune before getting down to the business of practicing. Even though the next show wasn't for two days, they needed to practice every day.

Afterward they all went out to lunch; they were trying to do that regularly again. Kala paused for a moment, tuning her hearing to check on Jay; he was still in bed, snoring softly. She shook her head and let herself get swept up in camaraderie, something that had once been common with her band and which was growing increasingly rare on the current tour. It seemed like all of them were going in different directions too often, these days.

They scattered to the winds after the meal was over, the boys heading out to see the sights. Sebast parted with a smack to her rump, his voice sounding jovial but forced. "You probably need a nap, _chula_. Spending all night out fucking _my_ pick of the show. Besides, you already saw Gotham over the summer."

There wasn't too much she could say to that, blushing. "Hey, what's sauce for the gander and all that. You get groupies by the dozens, don't begrudge me _one_."

"Dozens? _Mi_ Kala, you insult me. I get groupies by the _hundreds_." With that he'd kissed her cheek and followed the boys.

Maybe she should've stuck with them, but they had their own security—and she could hear Sebast's heart anywhere. Instead Kala went back to the room, fully intending on taking that nap. After a night full of heartbreaking revelations and lots of sex, she could've used the sleep.

Except, when she started to take her jeans off, a bit of plastic fell out. Kala picked it up and realized it was a flash drive; must've been tucked way down in the pocket for her not to have felt it. She knew immediately that it had to have come from Jay, since he'd slid both hands into her pockets and tugged her close to kiss her neck before she'd left.

Curious, she booted up her laptop and connected the drive, getting comfortable on her hotel bed. What popped up when the drive loaded was only a single folder marked 'Project J' and a document titled 'Read Me First'. That was odd. A cold feeling settled in the pit of Kala's stomach, and she looked at the drive's properties. Its 32 GB capacity was 82% full, so there was an enormous amount of data contained in there.

The file was simple notepad document, which only had two sentences: _I trust you with this. Contact me when you're done._ Shaking her head at that, Kala moved on.

She clicked on the Project J folder, which opened to a series of other folders labeled 'Background', 'Goals and Methodology', 'Initial Findings', 'New Methodology', 'Secondary Findings', and 'Deployment'. _What the…_ Kala blinked hard. This looked like it was some sort of scientific research. On _Jay?_ This could not be good.

Her heart suddenly in her throat, she clicked on the first folder, 'Background'. Better to start at the beginning, she figured. Within that file, there was a series of sub-folders, labeled 'Records', 'Media', 'Journals', and 'Significant Events'. Again starting at the beginning, she clicked on 'Records', and within that folder was another subset: 'Vital Statistics', 'Education', 'Legal', 'Medical'.

Holy hell, how far did this rabbit hole go down, anyway?

Another few clicks, and Kala found herself staring at PDFs of Jay's birth certificate—with the name Angela S. Haywood listed as his mother—his Social Security card, and … and the report on his _remains_. It wasn't a death certificate only because they hadn't found _enough_ of him to prove he was dead. She remembered being told, sometime the night of the Wayne ball, that he'd never _officially_ been declared dead because Bruce couldn't accept the possibility. This report, conducted by Dr. Leslie Thompkins, suggested that no other remains were found due to the force of the explosion, that he might've been pretty much vaporized by the bomb. The … _pieces_ … were widely scattered across an area somewhat protected from the blast.

Kala's stomach turned as she read the details, the most important jumping out at her: _Remains consisting of badly damaged tissue including: the upper portion of the right ear; approximately two liters of blood; teeth including two incisors, a canine, a bicuspid, and two molars; bone fragments, skin, and hair were also recovered from the surface of a twenty-eight inch crowbar._

Kala wanted to be sick instantly, leaning away from the computer as she fought her gorge. God, Jay hadn't exaggerated about that night at all. Her heart broke to think about it, and it was all she could do to keep from looking at the attached folder of photographs. There was no way. Just no way.

Shaking her head, she forced down the urge to retch and backed out of that folder, proceeding to the next: 'Education'. Oh, now this had to be better, or at least, she hoped. Anything had to be better than Jay's pseudo-death certificate… Clicking into a sub-folder labeled 'East Gotham Heights Elementary', Kala found and proceeded to peruse the files, including Jay's kindergarten enrollment, a full set of report cards from K through fifth grade—some with notes from his teachers describing his precociousness, his quick temper, and his tendency to talk back—and his attendance record, which seemed to be pretty good up until about the fifth grade. There was also a set of detention records, including one suspension in the third grade for punching another boy after said boy 'threw dirt at June Addison', according to Jay's statement following the incident. Kala's jaw dropped at the level of detail given in those files, realizing that it was the entirety of Jay's permanent record. And that last tidbit tugged on something in her brain; God, Jay had been defending girls since he was just a little kid. It was just mind-boggling.

Following the elementary school record was Jay's Gotham Heights Jr. High permanent record, and for a moment, Kala hesitated, knowing that this was when things had started to go really bad for him. But after a deep breath, she dove in. More report cards, standardized test scores—showing that Jay had scored in the 99th percentile in math and science, wow—more attendance records, now showing a decline up until about the middle of sixth grade, and a much larger set of detention and suspension records for various offenses including cursing, kicking another boy, skipping school, and smoking. There was an entire section of absence excuse notes written by Jay's mother— _step_ -mother, she remembered, though the only mother he'd known for most of his life—Catherine, and upon a closer look, Kala realized that the nearer to that end date they were, the more harried they looked, going from a neat cursive to a drunken-looking scrawl.

Kala's chest tightened. She'd known that Jay's mother died from a prolonged illness, but here was the proof of just how long it had taken, and how hard her decline had been.

Pressing on, she found a notice from Gotham Health and Human Services, informing the school of Catherine's death and Jay's placement in a foster home, followed by subsequent— _frequent_ —notices of changes in Jay's home status. It was cold, factual, reeking of 'the system'. Going back to his attendance and disciplinary file, Kala noted how everything had begun to spiral out of control at that point. The smoking and skipping school increased, his grades began to fall, and finally, there was a note that Jay was considered 'no longer enrolled', due to more than 35 consecutive days of absence.

Kala realized that that was when he'd disappeared onto the streets of Gotham. At twelve years old, not even through with seventh grade, he'd gone off on his own.

Unconsciously, she reached up to swipe away the stinging wetness from her eyes. _God, just twelve. When I was twelve I wanted to be a rock star and have pink and purple hair and ride a Pegasus and go on epic adventures with Jason and my trusty sidekicks. Shit, he really was just a kid. He shouldn't have had to know how it was out there yet. And in the Bowery, too._

A deep breath, and she tamped down on her emotions, moving on to the other folders in the 'Education' section. Next was Jay's enrollment at Bristol Junior High, just two months into his eighth grade year. The tightness in Kala's chest eased as she was relieved to see that it had only been just over a year before Bruce had taken Jay in.

Here, there were perfect attendance records, excepting for a few minor illnesses and the occasional 'sports-related' injury. His grades were outstanding, at one point a 99.4 GPA, impressive, and there were even records of Jay having been a part of the computer science club, the National Junior Honor Society, the gifted program, and even a member of both the wrestling and the football teams—which, unfortunately, he didn't last long in, due to his tendency to be a little too 'enthusiastic' on the mat and the field. Kala couldn't help a wince at that, knowing _exactly_ how enthusiastically he approached sparring. Then she thought of a little Jay all padded up for football hit her, and she giggled to herself. She could just see the sneer he'd probably worn during every game…

Next there were the records from Jay's enrollment at Bristol Academy, his high school years, and it smacked her right in the face to see the way they cut off midway through Jay's sophomore year. Everything had seemed to be going so well, then, _nothing_ , only a letter from Bruce removing Jay from the school.

Again, the shock of Jay's 'death' at the Joker's hands cut her right to the core. And that it hadn't even been reported to the school as a death, just that Jay was removed from the roll. She remembered what Jay had told her that night in Seventh Circle, about how Bruce had kept everything so quiet that almost no one knew, and her cheeks grew hot just to think it. He really hadn't just been blowing smoke.

Shaking herself again, unwilling to let all of this drag her down any further into a pit of despair, Kala backed out of the 'Education' folder entirely, and clicked into the 'Legal' folder … and was promptly stopped cold in her tracks, reading Jay's apparent arrest record. She realized it was a good thing they'd talked the night before, because his arrest for _solicitation_ at the age of _twelve_ would've just made her weep otherwise. Backtracking, she attacked the files in chronological order, skimming through Jay's foster care and group home files—including the numerous reports of fighting, running away, and violent behavior that went with them—his other arrest records for loitering, vandalism, petty theft, and misdemeanor assault, record of a stint in juvenile detention, from which he'd broken out, his foster and adoption records with Bruce, and finally, an application for a driver's license learner's permit. _Holy God, he hadn't even gotten his driver's license when he was lost…_

Kala's heart continued to break as she went back and hit another folder, this time, 'Medical'. True to form, this included everything from his birth records, immunizations, and childhood illnesses, through his counseling sessions during his foster care and records of his time with Bruce, up to his 'death', and included several files that Kala raised an eyebrow at. The first was a folder labeled 'Gotham Heights Free Clinic'. A click, and she found herself reading about Jay making several trips to the free clinic at the tender age of twelve, and being treated for acute bronchitis, then later being tested for STDs. Kala nearly choked. Thankfully, all those tests had come back negative, but the doctor—holy God, it'd been Doc Leslie, the Bats' go-to doctor, that had treated him—had noted that if Jay didn't get out of Crime Alley, and soon, that his choice of occupation would kill him.

 _I've seen this too many times. A boy his age should be in school, not selling himself on a street corner just to survive. All I can do is supply him with antibiotics, first-aid, and condoms, and pray that he makes it. Will try to see if he'll come to the shelter, but I doubt he'll accept._

At that, Kala wanted to scream and cry, dropping her head in her hands for a minute before she could go on. A part of her wanted to throw something, break something to make some of the pain and rage go away. He would've died for real if he'd stayed out there. At _twelve_. Before he had had any hope of meeting Bruce. Stunned, all she could do was read over Leslie's notes a few more times, seeing an increasingly clear mental image of Jay, so young, so angry, and so doomed.

But there was no point in dwelling on this one moment in time. It was over and done, nothing could change it. He'd survived that. Setting her jaw, she continued, finding next a full set of medical records that seemed to cover Jay's entire stay with Bruce, including his tenure as Robin. There was a full exam completed by Doc Leslie, in which it was noted that Jay needed counseling, but had refused after having broken the nose of a counselor that she'd brought in, and even Bruce had sided with Jay and allowed him to decline. That was enough to have Kala gritting her teeth. Bruce, from what she knew, had never been willing to sit in the chair, so it was no wonder he wouldn't have pushed Jay. She could just punch her uncle. How many chances to head things off could there have been? She sighed, running a hand through her loose hair. Again, it was over, the damage done. Better to just keep going.

There was also a full set of injury records, x-rays—good God, he'd broken most of his major limb bones at one time or another—dental records, more immunizations and sports physicals, all carefully worded by Doc Leslie, and records of several minor illnesses, including one nasty flu that Leslie reported as having been brought on by 'prolonged exposure during the coldest week of the year'.

Hell, hadn't Bruce drawn _any_ lines where Jay was concerned? For a moment, Kala saw red, again wanting nothing more than to smack her uncle for being so careless. What the hell had he been thinking? He was a _kid_ , for God's sake.

But then the urge passed— _it was a long time ago,_ she reminded herself for what seemed like the millionth time since she'd started reading—and she dove into the next folder in the 'Medical' section, labeled 'Quaker Medical Center Allentown'.

Allentown? Hadn't Jay told her he'd been in Philadelphia? Something didn't make sense here…

Pushing the question aside, Kala braced herself, and was immediately glad that she did, as the file was the size of a _novel._ The initial paramedics report described a teenage boy with no ID found at the county garbage dump, his unconscious body having fallen loose from a tattered moving blanket when a truck from Philly dumped its load. God, he'd been lucky it hadn't been the kind of truck Kala remembered seeing in Metropolis, that compacted the trash it picked up. She remembered now that he'd said one of Joker's people had apparently carried him out of the warehouse and dropped him in the dumpster. How the _fuck_ that counted as compassion, Kala would never know. Maybe the guy tried to save him, thought he was dead, and panic-dumped the corpse. Who fucking knew.

Bile rose in Kala's throat as she realized why Uncle Bruce hadn't found Jay; he'd been taken all the way to _Allentown_ in the back of a garbage truck before he was found. No reason to look that far away, no way to guess that he would've been moved after the beating and before the explosion. _Oh, Jesus…_

But it only got worse from there. The post-trauma ER record looked like an account of a war casualty, reading: _Patient presented with multiple lacerations covering his face, head, neck, and torso; deep contusions and lacerations from multiple blunt-force traumas; numerous fractures including both femurs, left tibia and fibula, right humerus and ulna, multiple vertebrae, sternum including the xiphoid process, multiple ribs, frontal, parietal, zygomatic, nasal, maxilla, left clavicle, right scapula, and most of the bones of the left foot and ankle, and right hand; partially collapsed left lung; internal bleeding. Unbelievable that he's still breathing. Kid must have a ton of fight in him,_ before giving vitals that looked too low to have been representative of a living person, and detailed notes from several doctors about initial triage and surgery. Further notes on surgeries included an evacuation of fluid from inside Jay's skull to ease the swelling of his brain, the setting and repair of every bone that'd been broken, plastic surgery to repair his face—God, his face had been split from ear to ear, and he'd lost most of his right ear, too!—dental surgery to remove his wisdom teeth to allow his jaw to heal, and numerous surgeries to repair nerve and muscle damage in his legs and arms.

Kala had had to stop for a minute then, staring out the window at nothing but the inside of her head, hand over her mouth as she digested what she'd just read. It was bad, he had _told_ her it was bad, but _this_. And at almost the same age as she had been when Luthor had taken her for the second time. Her eyes burned, her chest hurt from sobs she wouldn't let herself make, her heart and stomach both rebelling. _Not right. None of this is right._ _ **God**_ _._ But she pressed on. Not only did she owe it to Jay, but she needed to know. He had been right about that.

Beyond that, the records gave a detailed day-by-day account of Jay's coma. 'No change', over and over, his vitals steady. The neurologist described it as a 'persistent vegetative state', with 'John Doe' on a ventilator, but responding to certain external stimuli including tickling, loud noises—both of which resulted in the need for restraints on Jay's wrists and ankles—and especially music, during which his left hand would twitch in time to the beat. A note from the neurologist read: _If this boy were anywhere but here, he'd have been taken off the ventilator and allowed to die. It's a miracle that he's here and alive, and I have faith that he will wake up eventually, given his response to stimuli._

Kala shivered at that, thanking all the gods everywhere that Jay had wound up at a Quaker hospital. The doc was right; anyone else might've given up on him.

The final note in the thick file was that 'John Doe' had disappeared from the hospital, about a year after he'd been admitted. Another shiver, and Kala realized that that was when Jay had woken up, scared and alone and amnesiac, and had simply walked away.

It was unthinkable.

Pausing for a long moment, Kala lay back on the bed and scrubbed her hands over her face, pushed her fingers back through her hair. God, she'd never expected there to so much utter _pain_ in Jay's past. Hearing him say it and seeing the official record of it were two very different things.

Many minutes later, she finally managed to shake off the melancholy and sit up, then backed out of the medical files and clicked into the next: 'Media'. Now _this_ might be something she could wrap her mind around, the singer in her eager to see Jay in the spotlight, all bright color and brash confidence. There _had_ to be video footage of Robin, right? Something a little brighter to wash the darkness away?

As with the other folder, this was sub-divided into 'Pre-Robin', 'Robin', and 'Post-Robin'. To the beginning of the story again … and first up was a death notice from the _Gotham Gazette._

 _On Wednesday, January 5_ _th_ _, Catherine Todd, 37, of Gotham Heights, passed after a long battle with cancer. She is preceded in death by her husband, Willis Todd, and is survived by her son, Jason Peter Todd, 12. A brief, private viewing will be held at Gotham Heights Memorial Home on January 7_ _th_ _. Funeral Services will not be held._

Jay's mother … had had _cancer._ Somehow, Kala had expected there to be suspicious circumstances, maybe even HIV or a drug addiction or something equally horrid, but for it to be so utterly mundane an illness, something that the whole world had been fighting for hundreds of years, made Kala's heart break. Surely there were medical advances within the caped community that could've helped.

But no. If there were, then they would've shared them with the world. And all Kala could see was a scared little boy in a suit, sitting all alone in a funeral home, staring at his mother's casket.

Blinking away the image, Kala moved on. Next there was another article from the _Gotham Gazette,_ titled _Discovery of Body in Gotham Heights Prompts Investigation, Sparks Outrage._ Kala read this one carefully, something tickling the back of her brain. God, what had he gotten involved in?

 _In the early morning hours of Sunday, August 17_ _th_ _, the body of a 14-year-old girl was found by local waste management personnel inside a dumpster in the alley behind Fuller's Hardware on the 8000 block of 21_ _st_ _Street. GCPD has not released the girl's identity due to her age and lack of known family, only saying that local residents helped to identify her. The girl appeared to have been living on the streets for several months, working as a prostitute, and may have been involved in the local drug trade. An initial investigation revealed that she was repeatedly sexually assaulted before being stabbed several times in the abdomen, and her body had been wrapped in a bedspread and secured with duct tape before being disposed of._

 _GCPD Commissioner Jim Gordon has stated that further details of this ongoing investigation will be kept private until the girl's family has been located, and that GCPD will not speculate on the girl's connection to drug distribution in Gotham Heights._

 _Shortly after this story broke, a statement was made by Gotham billionaire philanthropist Bruce Wayne that "This sort of thing shouldn't be happening in Gotham, ever," and he promised to create a memorial fund in the girl's name once that information is released, to help the homeless youth of Gotham._

 _Local residents have also come out in support of Wayne's statements, pledging their support, and many are outraged that GCPD "hasn't done anything to stop this plague of pimps and drugs in our neighborhood," according to Carson Fuller, of Fuller's Hardware._

 _Ward 10 Councilman Harry Young could not be reached for comment about the growing speculation within the community regarding the growth of local prostitution and drug distribution rings in Gotham Heights._

Attached to the file was a video file, which Kala opened tentatively. Sure enough, it was CBS Gotham coverage of the discovery, the reporter giving the same details as the article, over a B-roll of sweeping footage of the mouth of the alley, police tape cordoning off the whole area while the body was removed on a gurney. Spectators were gathered outside the police tape, gawking and weeping and—

At the very front of the crowd, pressed in close to the tape line, was a boy that couldn't have been more than twelve years old, with dark, unruly hair partially covering shocked blue eyes. He looked like he hadn't bathed in a week, his clothes tattered and faded, and there was no mistaking his identity.

It was Jay.

 _Good God, Jay…_

But there was more. Attached to the PDF of the Gazette article was a notepad file that read: _I ID'd Aisha's body for the cops. Her pimp killed her for getting knocked up._

Kala wanted to be sick again. To have known a girl that died so horribly… Something else clicked in her brain. This girl was wrapped up and dumped in an alley. Same way that Jay was. It didn't seem to be related, but holy hell, it was too much of a coincidence. How had fate had this much of a sick sense of humor?

Another shiver, and Kala moved to the next article, again, from the _Gotham Gazette,_ this one raising goosebumps all down her arms as she read it.

 _Local Man Found Dead, Seven Underage Girls Rescued From Prostitution Ring_

 _The body of Georgie Howard, 28, of Gotham Heights, was found yesterday evening after several neighbors complained of a foul odor emanating from his apartment on the 7500 block of 23_ _rd_ _street. An initial investigation found seven underage girls in the apartment, hiding in the closet of a bedroom separate from where Howard's body was found, all appearing to have been working as prostitutes for the deceased man. Three of the girls were found to be suffering symptoms of drug withdrawal, and two were found to be several months pregnant. All appeared to have been physically abused, and were malnourished._

 _Howard's death is being investigated at this time, and GCPD has declined to comment on the death except to say that it "was very definitely murder," and that none of the girls are considered suspects at this time. GCPD also declined to comment on any possible connection between Howard and the girl who was found murdered behind Fuller's Hardware on August 17_ _th_ _._

This one had no note attached, but Kala knew immediately what had happened. No commentary was required to tell her that this had been Jay's first kill. God, that he'd done that, that he'd gone in as a young teenager and murdered a pimp for what he'd done … it was beyond all comprehension. Of course Kala knew what it was to have to take that hard road in order to save the world, but she'd been so much older, and the situation had been so different. Still…

Shaking off the mental roller-coaster she'd found herself on, Kala moved on to the 'Robin' folder, glad to finally be out of the worst of it. Here were videos and newspaper articles by the dozens, starting with a write-up of Jay's debut.

 _Robin Returns!_

 _June 30_ _th_ _; An attempted robbery at Shay's Jewelers on the 2200 block of High Street was thwarted last night shortly after midnight by the Batman and his apparently returned partner, Robin. GCPD officers responded to the scene to find the alleged robbers hog-tied and left on the sidewalk, as if gift-wrapped._

 _One of the alleged robbers claimed that Robin kicked him in the groin, hit him over the head, and cursed at him before Batman chastised him and the pair left the scene._

 _GCPD has stated that the claims are false._

Sheesh, he really was an angry little Robin, wasn't he? Shaking her head, Kala went through the rest of the videos here. There were reports from every news channel and paper in Gotham, all listed chronologically. Picking one at random, she found footage of Jay in his Robin outfit, the getup almost identical to Dick's, but with better boots and less of a collar on his canary-yellow cape. God, but he was adorable, even when he was leaping around a museum, kicking the crap out of Riddler's thugs while some news anchor commented on the Boy Wonder. The forty-five second clip took her breath away; Jay was so little and so light, but she still recognized the moves.

A few more videos and articles, and Kala found one that stopped her cold again. This article was from the _Daily Planet._ Not a Gotham paper, but her parents' own home turf. And it was written by her father. _Holy crap…_

 _Deaths of Bogatago Ambassador and Son Prompt International Investigation_

 _April 17_ _th_ _; The death of Bogatago Ambassador Jose Garzonas yesterday, following the death of his son, Felipe, on the 14_ _th_ _, has prompted an international investigation into what is believed to be a drug cartel of immense size, wealth, and position._

 _Jose Garzonas's body was found yesterday at a junkyard north of Gotham City, shot to death in what appeared to be a kidnapping and drug deal gone wrong, along with the bodies of several bodyguards and two low-level Gotham city officials, whose names are being withheld at this time. Garzonas's men had taken Gotham Police Commissioner Jim Gordon, holding him in the trunk of a limo while they allegedly attempted to broker a deal with the unnamed city officials to trade Gordon's life for a secure line of cocaine traffic into Gotham._

 _The FBI and ATF, who handled the scene, said that forty kilos of cocaine and 3 million US dollars were found in another limo at the scene, and that it was unclear who began shooting first, but that once it started, there was no way for any of the parties involved to have escaped._

 _Gordon stated after being released from Gotham General Hospital that he got loose from his bonds and the trunk because he had a knife in his boot that he used to cut himself free, and that by the time he did, the shooting was over and all involved parties were dead._

 _Speculation has arisen that Gordon's kidnapping was tied not to a drug deal, but to the death of Felipe Garzonas, who fell from a twenty story balcony after having been arrested on drug charges and released within three hours due to diplomatic immunity._

There was more there covering Felipe's arrest, but it was just a few lines buried in the bigger story. Then a link to an even briefer mention in the Gotham Gazette of a woman named Gloria Stanson committing suicide, and Kala didn't understand the connection, so she kept reading.

Kala browsed through more reports of the Robin years, eventually finding her way into the next folder, where a few more anonymous incidents had been filed. The deaths of people involved in human or drug trafficking, mostly. And then, the first reports of Red Hood. Those, she read in detail, understand now what he'd mean by paranoid and vicious. Everything everyone had tried to warn her about, it was all there. All the reports stopped after his confrontation with Bruce and Joker.

More importantly, none of that was still happening. Jay hadn't killed anyone in a long while. So despite all those warnings, Kala wasn't shaken. She knew he had blood on his name, just like she did. More of it, of course, but she couldn't blame him.

After backing all the way out to the first folder, Kala sat for long moments just thinking about this. Obviously all of this was information about _him_. Had he copied Babs' file, maybe? And if so, did she _know_ he'd done it? Further, if this was Babs' intel, why would he have said Bruce didn't know about the prostitution? Unless maybe Oracle had kept it a secret. She was certainly willing to keep their secrets. It didn't quite seem to make sense, though. Frowning, Kala went into Correspondence next.

No subfolders in that, just a list of long file names that each began with dates. Kala clicked on the first one, and her spine turned to ice within the first few lines.

 _Dearest Jason,_

 _If you are reading this then we have succeeded._

 _Centuries ago my father discovered these pools, these fountains of youth, and for their ability to rejuvenate, they were dubbed the Lazarus Pits. Since taking possession of them, he and he alone has bathed in their waters. He is arguably immortal. And for that reason, he took great interest in you._

 _I had other reasons. …_

She read the whole thing in spite of the hair on her nape rising, all the way to the chilling conclusion: _'_ _… I have done this for_ _love_ _. And I hope that will guide you into what you will become.'_

No signature. None was needed. This was a letter from _Talia al Ghul_. Kala realized her hands above the keyboard were shaking, and she quickly moved on to the next file, and then the next.

Most of them were emails, all between Jay and Talia. Occasionally she ran across what looked like a transcribed note. She skimmed through them, not liking the tone. Talia casually mentioned things like arranging a meeting with Hush, or of having topped up the multimillion dollar account Jay used to finance his campaign against Bruce. She _had_ been the one funding him. Never mind what he took from the gangs and the dealers as he'd gradually taken over the city, it looked like the bulk of Red Hood's money had come from Talia.

And in the next folder, much earlier dates on assessments from psychologists stating that the boy was autistic, even catatonic. Essentially, they termed him a vegetable with no higher brain function, only responding to certain stimuli.

The same folder had video, too. Kala picked one of the middle ones and caught her breath to see Jay, obviously her Jay, still a kid but now the breadth of his shoulders gave her a glimpse of the man he would grow up to be. The camera was at a distance, aimed at his back, and at first he looked basically all right. Then Kala realized he was slightly slumped over, and he wasn't moving, just standing still like a zombie.

She fast-forwarded fifteen minutes of footage before the image changed beyond the slight movement of Jay's breathing. Then masked fighters entered the room and attacked him. Kala's lip curled up in a snarl, furious at whoever had ordered this, but Jay suddenly responded. He moved like lightning, putting down his attackers with unearthly grace. But when he turned and moved toward the camera Kala saw the scars on his cheeks, faded but still visible.

Kala paused at that point, her hand over her mouth. It was one thing for him to tell her Joker had cut him, another entirely to see the evidence. Obviously he'd had excellent care; unlike the Joker, his scars weren't monstrosities, but they were there.

When she could un-pause it, audio crackled from her speakers, a man's voice saying the drill was over, and the fighters limped away. Jay took up the same position he'd been in before, with the same slight slump. Kala bit her lip, watching. Her heart went out to him. He'd been in there somewhere, even though he looked like he was completely checked out.

Someone else had thought so, too. A woman strode into the room then, and though Kala had only seen Talia al Ghul once briefly, she knew exactly who she was looking at. Talia went right up to Jay and struck him across the face. He didn't react like before, making no move to defend himself, not even flinching. She smacked him again and turned toward the camera with fury in her eyes. "He _never_ fights back when it's _me_ _!_ Explain that! _Never when it's_ _ **me**_ _!_ "

The clip ended with her stalking out, and Kala sat back, just staring at the screen. She was beginning to realize that this wasn't Babs' file on Jay. It was _Talia's_. And knowing what she knew now was chilling.

She backed out of the medical folder and checked Reports. In there she found letters and emails from Jay's trainers, reporting on his progress in the various deadly arts. Multiple types of combat, firearms, surveillance, explosives, poisons, a long list of lethal skills that Talia had apparently paid very well for him to learn. The next folder was surveillance, and it turned out to contain photos and videos of Jay, as Robin, Red Hood, and simply himself. One of those she recognized from the news story earlier; what she was seeing was the full security camera recording from which the news clip had been taken. The data there spanned years as well, and she had no reason to doubt that it included every single time Jay had ever been captured on camera.

The last folder left unopened was Notes, and Kala clicked on it with trepidation. As she suspected, it was a series of notes about Jay. The first file she opened commented on the video she'd seen earlier, even referenced the file name.

 _The doctors say I am shortsighted, I am in denial. I say they are wrong. There is more to Jason than muscle memory and limbic drives. On some level he recognizes me. When I told him of Bruce, he wept. He is not a mere shell; the boy Jason Todd lives. And will continue to live._

 _Whatever must be done to restore him, shall be done. No matter the cost. For my Beloved's sake alone I would do this. For his sake, and for Jason's, I will do whatever I must. Surely there is an answer to this mystery somewhere…_

Talia's own personal notes on Jay. Kala stared. She skimmed through a few other documents; there was one that tracked and commented on his recovery, one that charted his actions as Red Hood, and one that made plans for his training. She had _deliberately_ sent him to trainers she knew were operating on the wrong side of Jason's particular morality. The first, someone named Egon who turned out to be involved in the child sex trade, had been a surprise even to Talia, but some of the rest he'd been _meant_ to kill.

And kill them he had. One document existed solely to keep track of Jason's body count over the years. Talia had noted Felipe Garzonas, the diplomat's son from the earlier file. She commented that he had used his father's status to avoid charges of domestic abuse. Gloria Stanson, the suicide mentioned above, was a model whom Felipe had abused. She had taken her own life after he called from custody and promised to see her again soon. What none of the papers had mentioned about Felipe was that he'd fallen twenty-two stories to his death in a confrontation with _Robin_. Talia's own note simply read: _Fell or pushed? Limited evidence. A case can be made for either. Note that even this early, Jason's violence and aggression emerge in defense of the helpless, women and children._

There was another note there, appended to the file later on, and Kala clicked it.

 _K -_

 _When we busted Felipe, I promised Gloria we'd put him away._ _I promised her_ _. She_ _jumped right after the bastard called her. No one thought he'd call her, we thought he'd call his dad, no one saw it coming. Threatening her was more important to him than getting out quickly. There was no time, we couldn't save her._

 _I was there when Felipe came to pick her up. Not Bruce, just me. GCPD scraped him off the road, and Bruce blamed me for it, even when I told him Felipe had fallen._

 _For what it's worth, that was partly true. I didn't mean for him to fall. But I could've caught him, and I didn't._

So that's what Jay had meant by 'the bad Robin'.

Kala let out a shaky breath. Who could blame him? A woman was _dead_ because the best the Bats could do was lock her abuser up for a few _hours_. The whole point of putting on a costume was to _protect_ people. Jay felt like they'd failed this woman – hell, Kala felt the secondhand guilt even now, wishing something else could've been done, wishing she could've been saved. Kala wouldn't have blamed him if he _had_ straight-up murdered the guy. She would've wanted to do the same. She had killed Zod not in vengeance, but to prevent him from killing everyone she knew he _would_ kill if he lived. That made her worse than Jay, looking at it like that; he was reactive, she was premeditated. Regardless, she couldn't judge him.

By that time Kala was almost ready to throw up. Seeing his kill count, and realizing he had most _serial killers_ beaten, turned her stomach. Especially on the heels of having seen some of his best work as Robin, and then the evidence of the Hell he'd been through. Jay had been _manipulated_ into this—in her notes, Talia had spoken of channeling something called Lazarus fever. At one point she'd even written that she'd unleashed a plague upon the world, called Jay a curse—and then decided to _manage_ him, to guide Jay's homicidal tendencies into something productive.

Did no one ever take a look at his history and think of getting the boy some fucking _therapy_ _?_ It had done wonders for Kala, but there was nothing in any of the records about Jay ever seeing a psychiatrist. He'd lost both parents, he'd been a _child prostitute_ , he'd found his birth mother only to be betrayed by her and then lose her, too. Bruce and Talia both spoke of channeling his anger into the fight for justice, but neither of them had ever tried to _treat_ it. Apparently he was too valuable a weapon to risk blunting his edge.

Horror turned into protective rage. Jay had _never_ gotten a fair shake, had he? Bruce had wanted him to be Dick, but he was a completely different person. Talia had saved him at first for Bruce's sake, and then later she'd turned him into her weapon of revenge. Had he ever _not_ been someone else's project?

Taking a moment to breathe deep and try to process what she'd read, Kala picked up her phone and dialed. She still had no idea what she was going to _say_ to him, but he'd asked her to call after.

…

Jay answered on the second ring, his palms damp. He'd been waiting on this call all day. Now was the time when he'd lose her. _No one_ could deal with his level of bullshit and issues, but she deserved to know just what a fuckup she'd gotten involved with. Still, he steadied his voice. "K? Did you read it?"

She drew in a shaky breath. "Yeah."

"All of it?" he asked tensely. Good thing his phone was so deeply encrypted thanks to Babs that no one could possibly pick up this conversation, because they were going to get into dangerous territory eventually.

"I skimmed some, but Jay … yeah. I read it." Another deep breath, sounding like she was struggling for words—or maybe not to cry. "Jesus, Jay."

"Pretty much. I love the part where she has my fucking first grade report card." He hid behind flip sarcasm, as always. Besides, he'd rather discuss the report card than the medical records detailing his fractured eye socket and ruptured spleen.

"I … I don't know what to say," Kala admitted. "How did you even _get_ this?"

"After the whole showdown with Bruce and the goddamn Clown, Talia came along and saved me while I was half bleeding out from his fucking Batarang jamming my gun. She had me flown to one of her safe-houses, in London, which is why no one could find me after. I woke up two days later having had almost all my blood volume replaced. Everything that went down…" Jay trailed off, wondering how much she knew. Kala hadn't been part of the scene then, not full-time, even if she _had_ been helping pull Steph off his trail.

After a moment he continued, trusting her to interrupt if he got ahead of her. "Everything that went down between me and Bruce in that last confrontation, it made me think. I mean, really _think_ about what I was doing. In the beginning I only killed people who deserved killing, but by the time I was running Gotham's underworld I was killing anyone who got in my way. That wasn't what I set out to do. It's just … after a while, you get so much blood on your hands, you start thinking another stain or two won't hurt."

Kala made a small, pained noise. "Jay, no. It's not like that. Don't think I don't know what you're thinking. You _aren't_ gone past saving. Don't even start."

Her vehemence brought the ghost of a smile to his lips. "I might just believe that. Now. Back then I didn't. Back then I just wanted a war, and I made Bruce give me one."

"None of what happened was your fault," Kala said, with the implacable strength in her voice that he'd seen from her darker half.

"Oh, some of it is," he told her. "I wasn't just a pawn, K, I made my own decisions, and some pretty shitty ones. But I know what you mean. And … yeah. Anyway, you asked how I got the file."

"I did," she said softly.

"I stayed with Talia for a couple days, and I happened to look over her shoulder and see her computer password. Big mistake on her part, she must've thought I wouldn't be looking for stuff like that. So of course, as soon as she left me alone, I logged in and looked at her recent documents. First thing on the list was my goddamn kill count." He had to stop then, mastering the snarl that had crept into his voice.

Jay remembered too well the stunning weight of betrayal that had dropped on him back then. Talia keeping track of his kills was one thing. When he looked up the folder the document was saved in, and realized she had an entire _database_ on him, titled fucking _Project J_ , it had taken every ounce of self-restraint he possessed to just copy the data and leave. Most of him—that new, savage temper he could thank the Lazarus Pit for—wanted to be waiting with a knife when she got back. Not the gun, no, that was too quick. He'd wanted to carve her beating heart from her chest and hold it up before her eyes before she died.

For a moment, a stupid self-indulgent childish moment, Jay had almost thought Talia _loved_ him. As a surrogate son or a lover, or maybe both, he still didn't quite know. He might've even had some half-baked idea of putting this business with Bruce behind him and convincing her to walk away from her father. The two of them together could've cleaned up a whole lot of the world. And yeah, the sex was really fucking good, too.

"What happened next?" Kala's voice, low and cautious and gentle. This had to be a lot for her to deal with. She was a Super after all, bad shit had happened to her too, but nothing quite like this kind or to his level of darkness.

Jay took a deep breath and sighed. "I found the whole folder. Thought really seriously about killing her. In the end I decided she deserved a break for going against Daddy Dearest to dip me in the Pit—didja see the part in her notes where he damn near strangled her for it, after I got away?" He didn't wait for an answer, plunging onward while he could still tell the tale. "Anyway, I copied the whole thing, drained the account she'd set up for me, and went on the run. Bummed around Europe for a while, took a big fucking chunk out of the human trafficking out there, and eventually found my way home. Talia never tried to contact me again. I guess as soon as she realized I'd been on her computer and seen that I was a goddamned _project_ to her, she knew she'd better stay the fuck away. The next time I saw her, she was sitting in the kitchen at the Manor drinking tea."

Kala took a deep, shaky breath, and Jay steeled himself for _I can't handle this_. He got something very different. "She's a fucking _idiot_."

"What?" he asked, genuinely perplexed.

"Talia. She's a goddamn fucking _idiot_. Bruce, too. Did nobody think even _once_ about, I dunno, calling a _shrink_ and getting you some fucking _treatment_? It's called _post traumatic stress disorder_ , they damn well ought to know what that is, nobody ever put you on some Prozac and got you to _talk_ about what the fuck happened to you?" Kala was fuming by the end.

Jay could only stare at his phone, stunned. Finally, he replied, "You do know that at least _part_ of what's wrong with me is supernatural, right? Lazarus fever isn't something you can treat with group circle-jerks in therapy."

"Has anyone ever fucking _tried_ _?_ " Kala shot back. "Not to mention, Bruce fucked up too. He did the same bullshit, trying to channel your aggression instead of maybe _treating_ it. For the most brilliant crime-solving mind in the world, he never stopped to think that you _might_ need to talk to a goddamn _guidance counselor_ at the least before you jumped right in to being Robin?"

"I _wanted_ to be Robin," he told her. "I didn't want anything else in the world. I wouldn't have talked to a shrink anyway, I just wanted to put things right the best way I knew how. His way."

"Yeah, well, his way is _bullshit_. Isn't that what you told me?" He fell silent at that, not having expected to hear his own words turned against him. "Jesus, Jay, if you wanted it _that_ bad you would've _gone_ to therapy to get it! Personally I'm starting to think the whole damn family needs an intervention."

"You don't know the whole story," Jay said, his voice losing strength.

"I don't know the whole story? Then what's in this file?" she shot back.

"Look, yeah, you … I don't know, Kala. You don't know what went on with Bruce."

"I know he was damn near destroyed by it. I know _my_ dad went to the funeral and came home and wouldn't let us go for an hour. I know when you went after Bruce and had your showdown, my father and Diana went out there in spite of the lockdown on Gotham and _forced_ Bruce to see sense—he and Diana broke up over it."

Jay cradled his head in his hands. He honestly didn't know what to think. Kala was only seeing his side of it; if she got a glimpse of Bruce's file, or Babs', her attitude might change. No telling what was in those that he didn't know about. He'd given her what he wanted her to know, what he thought was the worst of himself, and she was _furious_ —but not at him.

And she wasn't done yet. "You know, this explains so much about you. You're more than a soldier. You're more than a fuck-up. And you're more than an angry little boy. You know that, don't you? You never had a fair shot _anywhere_."

 _A good soldier_ , engraved on his memorial in his father's Batcave. _My father was right. I have unleashed a curse upon this world,_ written by the woman who shared his bed. Jay had let himself believe them both.

When he didn't reply, Kala kept on. "Jay, your own _birth mother_ didn't stand up for you. Do you know what my mom would've done? Gotten herself killed, maybe. More likely put two bullets in Joker's fucking head."

He broke in there, his voice rough. "Yeah, well, the community knows not to screw with _your_ mom. I joke about Big Blue, but it's Lois Lane we really have to worry about. She's the original Mama Bear, she'd kill for you in a heartbeat."

"Yeah, Jay, she's tried more than once to put down Luthor. But she'd've killed for _you_ , too. It's what moms do, even for kids that aren't theirs, and she's a damn good one." A pause, and then she added, "It's what dads should do, too."

That was all he'd wanted from Bruce—but Bruce was all about drawing a line that could never be crossed. It was who he was, in the same way that barreling across the lines in pursuit of justice was who Jay was. Everything else aside, that was why he still somewhat kept his distance. He might not have felt the need to cap anybody lately, but Jay would still do if he had to. And Bruce was probably telling himself otherwise.

Thinking that, Jay finally said to Kala, "Look, I understand if…"

"Stop it right now, Jay. Shut up. Shut up before I come over there and _smack_ you. _No._ Why do you keep trying to run me off?" If she'd been furious before, she was past that into wrathful now.

"I dunno," he muttered. "Maybe I don't deserve you."

"Maybe you don't get a choice in that," she spat. "Seriously, you act like you don't wanna lose me but you keep trying to push me away. Forget it, Jay. We're partners, remember? World's Finest 2.0, remember? And I'm not getting into this right now, but you know I've seen my share of darkness. You just don't know how deep _I've_ been in it. So stop trying to shield me from this shit, and stop trying to scare me with it."

"What makes you think that's what I'm trying to do?" he replied, trying to sound gruff.

She only laughed. "Why else would you sneak a bomb like this into my _pants_ where you know I'll read it once I'm home? Seriously, Jay, I can see right through you."

He had to give her that one. Anything else he might've said, though, was overridden by his comm beeping. "Aw, hell, I think Babs is calling me in," he groaned.

"Go. I'll be here when you get back. And Jay? I mean that. I'm not going anywhere."

Jay took a deep breath, hearing that. He didn't really hear it enough, even now. "You better not," he said at last. "I'm still trying to figure out how to pay you back for the damn rat."

He ended the call on Kala's silvery laughter, and got to his feet. Back to real life – which weirdly was a tiny bit steadier, now that Kala knew.


	58. Think There's a Flaw in My Code

**Author's Note:** One of our guest reviewers commented on Talia's motives, last chapter. Just remember that so far we've only seen Jay's side of the story. Talia is definitely a complicated character, and you really shouldn't trust conclusions made about her by any other character. Which only becomes more apparent in this chapter.

* * *

Cooling his heels in jail had done nothing to sweeten Black Mask's temper. The news that _Superboy_ had been spotted again just spiked his blood pressure a little higher. Ever since that one hit the stage, he'd been coming to Gotham occasionally, working with Red Robin or that ridiculous showboat Nightwing. Sionis hadn't met him yet, but like any sensible entrepreneur on the wrong side of the law, he'd kept insurance.

Insurance which the fucking GCPD had seized as _evidence_ , when his operation got shut down by the Bat. Again.

Now he needed to get more kryptonite, so his first call was to Lex Luthor. His bail was set too high and most of his accounts were momentarily frozen, but Ms. Li managed to get him a cell phone, at least. There were still _some_ perks to his position, and some loyalty among his people.

The call hadn't been good for his blood pressure, either. Luthor wanted to up the price to _forty million_ , citing market pressure; with Superboy around and working well outside of Metropolis, more people wanted kryptonite now than the last time he'd bought some, years ago. That asshole Red Hood had wanted fifty for the kryptonite he'd stolen, a ridiculous sum considering Sionis had paid thirty for that first shipment. Kryptonite cost more than plutonium already, and fifty had been outrageous. Calculatedly so, since the little fucker had just turned it over to the Bat in the end. Bet he didn't make Batman pay fifty million. Hell, maybe that had been the price of getting the Bat off his back. Who knew.

Worse, Luthor used that as justification for a further price hike. "Add another five million. You're the one who gave the League access to the red," he'd said in that sneering holier-than-thou tone that made Mask want to strangle him. Elitist intellectual fucker, he was just another bastard with a hate-on for a vigilante, so far as Sionis was concerned.

So Sionis had hung up in his face, fumed, paced, worked out in the jail gym until his muscles shook and his shirt dripped sweat, then called Ms. Li and told her to get him another phone number. They all knew someone _else_ had kryptonite, and not the paltry couple grams Penguin had sold him and which were now locked up in GCPD headquarters.

Getting the number took _days_ , and Ms. Li looked distinctly displeased handing it over. Sionis called early in the morning, too early by his standards, but the person on the other end was probably at least five hours ahead of Eastern Standard Time.

"Yes?" The voice that answered was female, as dry and cool and free of accent as Ms. Li's. Still a voice he recognized from recordings and the occasional calls that were made between people with common interests in defying the Bat, though Talia al Ghul did that less often than the rest of them.

"This is Roman Sionis," he said. "I heard you might be in possession of some … flying insect repellent I could use. The crystallized kind. I'm looking to buy five kilos."

"Five kilos is a significant amount. You are aware that the substance in question is quite light compared to most other commodities?" she said, without ever confirming who she was. Fucking assassins and their obsession with secrets.

Sionis bared his teeth and did _not_ growl into the phone. This one didn't take kindly to intimidation. "I know how much five kilos is. I've got a lot of bugs in my city all of a sudden, and they're bad for business. Are you selling, or not?"

"I cannot meet the quantity you've requested," she told him. "Three kilograms should be sufficient for your needs, unless you intend to move to a more infested location."

"Fine. Three kilograms. How much?" His temples were throbbing with an incoming migraine from all this dancing around.

"Twenty-five million," Talia said crisply.

Mask barked laughter. "Are you fucking _kidding_ me? That's more than Luthor's charging! You people are all insane."

"Luthor is _producing_ the substance in question, and each batch drops in quality," she informed him. "I am offering you crystal mined directly from the first island. It is much more potent than anything else on the market. And all green, not adulterated with other colors of varying effects."

Sionis paused; if that was _true_ , it explained a lot. The varying kinds of kryptonite, and the reports that Superboy hadn't seemed to be as badly effected by it these days as the original Super had been to the stuff Luthor had at first. "Tempting, but twenty-five is still outrageous. How about twenty?"

"The price is not negotiable," she said, and hung up on _him_. Which resulted in Sionis throwing the damn phone across the cell, and when he realized it cracked on impact, he flew into a rage, jumping on it and stamping it to splinters.

Which only meant that he needed to wait two days for Ms. Li to get him another fucking phone, and when he called the same number, it went to a bar in Malta. Sionis swore and raged, calling Ms. Li when he calmed down a little. "I need another number, for the same person," he growled.

"Sir, it took the better part of a week and a nontrivial amount of bribe money to get the first phone number," she cautioned.

He just rubbed his aching temples and sighed. "Yeah, you're _really_ gonna hate what it'll cost to get the rock. Get me the damn number."

Ms. Li signed off with polite assurances, and a few days later, he had the number he needed. Sionis didn't bother to be polite, this time, and called when he felt like it – when it would be the middle of the night in Europe.

She answered in the same tone, and he growled without preamble, "Three kilos, twenty-five million, and it had damn well be the quality you say it is, Ms. _Head_." He didn't bother to pronounce it British-style, either; she was the daughter of the Head of the Demon, she might as well own it.

"I have neither reason nor inclination to dissemble, Roman," she replied without taking apparent offense. "Very well, let us make the arrangements. And do be careful this time. Your competition in Gotham, and his organization, already have plenty of these crystals. No need for us to give them more."

"Last I checked, my 'competition' was your Batty boyfriend," Sionis shot back. "Were you the one supplying him? 'Cause we all know he keeps it in stock, just in case his good buddy goes bad on him."

She actually chuckled. "I do believe the Icon surrendered it to him. Roman, if you spoke so to Luthor, he would add a surcharge to teach you manners."

"But _you_ won't do that," he chided. "You people just _love_ to haggle over prices, but once a deal's set you won't break it. That'd be _rude_ , and you have an imagine to maintain."

"On the contrary, I already know that you are quite capable of behaving with some degree of class," Talia replied. He wondered what it cost her not to rise to the 'you people' bait there, and knew he was on thin ice – but goddamn, the fucking _pretension_ of it all! It drove him fucking crazy. She continued urbanely, "You simply choose not to. It is no concern of mine how you conduct yourself, and not my responsibility to curb your so-colorful mode of expression."

"How very kind of you," he ground out.

"That is the mark of class, Roman. Forbearance in the face of uncouth individuals," she replied. "Now, let us speak of logistics. Fifteen before, the balance after, and when and where would you like it delivered?"

Sionis gritted his teeth and forced himself to negotiate. At least it wasn't Joker; after one go-round with _that_ freak, he'd put up with all the pretentiousness in the world.

…

A night _off_ , in Gotham no less, and even though they all had to be on the bus tomorrow morning to head for the next show, Kala intended to take this night for herself. She wanted to see Jay – she _needed_ to see Jay, after the revelations of that file. Having seen those medical records, knowing exactly what he'd gone through, Kala needed to see him whole and alive. The nap she'd managed to take had been unsatisfying, her sleep thin and broken by images of Jay scarred and bleeding.

She hopped through a shower and was just about to take her uniform out of its hiding place when the hotel room door opened. Kala put the garment bag back and put on civilian clothes instead, as if she'd been getting ready to go out the entire time.

Sebast, of course, was the one who'd just gotten in. He strolled her way, and Kala tensed. _He saw that last night. This is the first chance he's had to shake me down about it. Goddammit, I will_ _ **not**_ _be ashamed of this!_ "Hey, Chupi," was all she said. "You're in early."

"And you're out early," he replied. "Can't blame you for going back for seconds, he _was_ gorgeous."

Kala sighed heavily. "Don't be like this, Sebast. _Please_."

He came over and sat on the bed, looking up at her. "Don't be like what? _Mi_ Kala, who am I to tell you who you can or can't screw?"

Oh, _that_ was a loaded question. She sidestepped it by saying, "I've never commented on your hookups."

He just grinned at her. "You never swiped my pick of the groupies, either. I was watching him from _For Your Entertainment_. He doesn't have a brother, does he?"

She managed not to choke. _Yeah, he has two, and you were obsessed with one of them as soon as you saw Dick Grayson._ "We didn't exactly talk about it," Kala said. "And I didn't know you were eyeing him, Sebast. I was doing my job up there, not planning my next conquest."

" _Mamita_ , if I really thought you were low-down petty enough to steal a man out from under me just to prove the power of your _tatas_ , I wouldn't be working with you," he said dismissively. "But see, you're the woman, you're supposed to be the one who knows how to multitask. And don't tell me I'm developing womanly multitasking skills because I'm gay, or I'll have to whip my dick out and show you what a man I am." He grinned mock-salaciously at her with that ridiculous threat.

That was more like their old banter, from before things had gone completely sideways – from before she'd slipped up and fallen into bed with him, and from before this last summer that had turned her world on its ear. Kala sighed, dropping into the chair to tug her boots on. "I've seen your dick, Chupi, I know fully damn well you're not a girl," she replied, with the ghost of a smile.

A beat of silence, unusual when they were teasing each other, and Kala looked up to catch a speculative look in his eye. She tensed; what if he said something like, _You've ridden my dick, too_? Just what would she say then? _Yeah, and it was too good to forget when it's just us, so I ran to Gotham and fell into something complicated with Red Hood, of all people_?

Her life was a fucking _mess_. Worrying about Jay, beginning to worry about her boys – just who was Robb talking to all night, anyway? - and lying to Sebast.

But he just smiled, even though his eyes didn't follow it, and said, "As a singer and songwriter, _mi_ Kala, I'm disappointed that you came so close to making that rhyme, and failed. Shame and dishonor upon you."

"Dishonor on your cow," she laughed back, and they'd skirted around thin ice yet again.

Sebast got his own laughter under control to reply, "Ay, leave Robb out of this, he might finally be getting some if his phone obsession isn't catfishing him."

"Don't be rude," Kala scolded. "The only thing wrong with Robb is he doesn't have enough self-confidence. Maybe you can lend him some of yours; God knows you have enough for ten men."

"Yeah, just not in the same night," Sebast laughed, and she rolled her eyes. "I'm not that big of a whore, yet."

Kala turned to him and met his gaze seriously. "Okay, no bullshit, Chupi. _Please_ tell me you're being safe. Because you _have_ picked up the pace lately, and I'm not gonna lose you. Not to something you could prevent."

His mouth quirked up in a wry grin. "Kala. I'm always safe. But since you're worried, _mi amor_ , lemme ask you. Are _you_ being careful? Fucking groupies was never your style, and it's a little different for a woman going home with a stranger than it is for a man."

She debated telling him last night – and tonight – wasn't a groupie, but then she'd have to explain _something_ about who Jay was, and Kala wasn't as good a liar as she needed to be to sell _that_. Someday pretty soon she was going to have to come up with a cover story … but not today.

Smiling, Kala told him, "Yes, I'm being safe. And don't forget, I'm a blue belt. If he got out of line, I'd kick his ass." File that under another thing Sebast didn't know – between training and superpowers, Kala was far more likely to be the person beating someone up in a dark alley than the one in danger.

He knew just enough about what happened when she was sixteen, that Luthor's goons had threatened her intimately. If he'd also known the whole truth of what she was, Sebast would've known Kala wouldn't let herself be put in _that_ situation again. Any man who put unwanted hands on her was risking serious injury.

"As long as you're taking care of yourself," he said, almost wistful. Sebast got up, closing the distance between them, and cupped her face in his hands. "Because all the bullshit aside, _te amo con todo mi alma_. You make me a better man, _querida_." And saying that, he kissed the bridge of her nose.

Kala was glad she had to close her eyes for that, so he wouldn't see the pain in her expression. If Sebast could've said that to her six months ago, and meant it the way her heart wanted him to mean it, then she would've gone to Gotham in a very different frame of mind.

Too late for that. He didn't need to know he was killing her with this; that would just hurt him. But everyone who'd ever given them the side-eye was right, they were just a little too close, too many lines getting blurred. Kala put on a smile as he drew back, and told him in the language of the city of her birth, " _Moi aussi, je t'aimerai pour toujours._ I don't know what I'd do without you, Sebast."

A fraught pause hung between them, and Sebast just stared into her eyes as if searching for something there. Kala held her breath, wondering almost unwillingly. If he meant more than the intensity of their friendship … but no. He couldn't. It ran against everything Sebast _was_ , and she wasn't going to take any more advantage of their closeness than she already had. Still, those words she'd wanted to hear burned with a little spark of what could someday become hate. Why now, after so long, why _now_ when she finally had something serious with someone who knew all the darkest corners of her mind? Someone who knew her as well as Sebast did, if in different ways? Why did he have to confuse the hell out of her _now_?

Both of their cell phones chirped at the same time, fracturing the moment, and Sebast laughed, kissing her forehead. "Probably you'd get more calls from hot fanboys. I'm not a good wingman, I'm too jealous."

"Shut up, I wouldn't be a rock star without you," Kala said, giving him a gentle shove.

"Yeah, you would," Sebast replied, taking out his phone even as she reached for hers. "You had that planned before you met me, _mamita,_ and nothing in the world stops you when you want something. I'm just glad you brought me along for the ride."

Kala glanced at her phone, and the text _was_ from Jay. She managed to smirk at Sebast. "Oh, you're too pretty _not_ to be famous somehow, Gomez. And you're lucky I did bring you along for the ride – after you didn't show up to my very first performance."

He winced, looking sternly at her. "It's been seven years, Kala. I haven't forgotten that _I'm_ the reason you ended up making out with Nick and getting grounded. Or that my dumb ass believing Giselle was the reason you ran away and got kidnapped. You don't hafta to whack me over the head with it, still."

That tone carried the same weight as a blow in their current circumstance. _Ouch_. Kala wilted, staring up at him. "I don't… Sebast, I didn't mean it like _that!_ I was just teasing. It wasn't _your_ fault, it was mine, I was the stupid melodramatic little girl who ran right into the trap. And if I hadn't, they would've gotten Jase or me some other time – Luthor was _planning_ that shit. Sebast, I _never_ blamed you. It wasn't your fault."

He sighed, raking a hand through his hair, and ignored his phone chirping again. "But it _was_. At least part of it was. If I'd been there…"

"Your grandmother broke her hip, _querido_ , you couldn't have been there," Kala reminded him, grabbing his hands and willing him to understand.

"Still, because I wasn't…" he began.

" _No,_ " Kala told him forcefully. "Because I was vain, and stupid, and hot-headed. Not because of you, Sebastiáno. Because of me. You got that? _It wasn't. Your. Fault._ Not even a little bit. I mean it."

She could tell he didn't believe her, not entirely, but that stony look of grief lessened. "If you insist," Sebast said, giving her hands a gentle squeeze. "Now answer your phone, _mamita,_ before he comes looking for you and gets intimidated by me."

First she kissed the back of his hand. "Yeah, answer yours, too. I don't wanna chase off any of _your_ boys."

"Most of my boys are scared of your girl cooties," he laughed, and they stepped apart.

Her text message from Jay was simple: _Wanna find some trouble?_ Kala laughed softly.

Meanwhile Sebast swore. "Shit, he wants to reschedule. Good thing I have backup." He scrolled to the next text and grinned. "Oh yeah, backup is good to go."

"Did you _really_ schedule two dates for the same night?" Kala asked, horrified.

"No, I asked _four_ guys on Grindr what they were doing tonight, and two answered. The other two probably don't think I'm real. I get that, you know. They expect me not to look like my picture." Sebast smirked evilly. "Someday I'm gonna send Robb out, and see what they do."

Kala punched him in the shoulder, gently, mock-scowling. Once he headed into the bathroom to shower and prepare for the evening's debauchery, she grabbed her uniform. With one text to Jay that simply read, _Hell yes_ , and another to Babs saying, _Put me in, coach, I'm ready to rumble,_ she headed out of the room. Minutes later she was in the air, leaving the mess of her daily life behind for a different kind of crazy.

…

"Jay's being _weird_ ," Tim complained as he and Dick surveyed a quiet corner of the Diamond District. There was supposed to be a break-in tonight, which they were trying to foil, but so far it seemed the thieves had gotten cold feet.

"That's normal, for him," Dick quipped.

"No, I mean he's acting normal, which is weird when he does it," Tim groused. "You _know_ what I mean. He's not being defensive _all_ the time, he's actually civil most of the time, he's almost pleasant to be around when he's at the Manor."

Dick sat back, thinking. Jay _had_ been unusually calm and amiable for the past couple weeks. Maybe it was some weird side effect of the Joker venom? Nah, not likely.

Another possible interpretation occurred, and he scoffed. "Well, he _did_ finally get laid. That'll do wonders for your mental state."

Tim scowled at him. "Was that a _pun_? Because if it was, you're disgusting."

Blinking, Dick ran the sentence back through his mind, and burst out laughing. "Sorry, sorry. You're the only one in the family doing a Wonder, last I checked. Donna's _way_ over that with Jay."

"You're all animals," Tim muttered.

Dick rumpled his hair affectionately, making Tim swat at him. "Anyway, he's been a little easier to be around since before that. Maybe it's just that K came back, and the two of them sorted out their whatever-it-is. Been a long time since Jay worked with a partner."

Tim frowned. "I would've thought we'd hear them 'sorting it out' across town. If he ever finally tried to make a move on her, she would've swatted him into low-earth orbit."

Deciding right then _not_ to tell his little brother that Jay had actually _kissed_ Kala at the airport, Dick just smiled. "She's not as mean as you think. K actually does like him." At least the angry kind of tension between them was gone, no matter how late he'd left it.

"Not like that," Tim replied, certain of it.

Babs' voice sounded in their ears then. "If you two are done gossiping, it looks like our jewelry thieves are scouting out Cartier."

"Finally, some action," Dick sighed. "Hey, O? Why do _you_ think Jay's been so nice lately? Is he seeing that debutante on the side?"

"He probably ran afoul of a concussion grenade," Babs snarked. "Minor brain injury, change in personality. Debutantes really aren't his thing. Most of the time, anyway."

"Tell that to the glitter all over the garage," Tim grumbled.

Babs sighed at them both. "I'm inclined to agree with you, Wing. Having good backup will sweeten anyone's temper."

"That's why we're all such lovely people," Dick laughed. "We have _you_ as the angel on all our shoulders."

"Angel? Really?" she scoffed.

And Tim, in one of his rare displays of humor, said utterly deadpan, "Lucifer was an angel."

Dick and Tim headed out to intercept the jewel thieves with Babs' laughter in their ears.

…

One last little ingredient, and Harley and Ivy were back in business. It had been relatively easy to get hold of nail polish remover; concentrating it was a little harder, but they managed. The hydrogen peroxide, Harley managed to wheedle from one of the guards, claiming she wanted to dye her hair. A little batting her eyelashes and asking nicely – and a lot of leg and cleavage on display – convinced the idiot to pick up a bottle of what she was very careful to call 'developer' from the beauty supply store. Getting the acid was the most difficult bit, but thanks to a disturbance caused by the other 'patients', Harley was left unattended for all of twenty seconds near the janitorial storage, and snatched a small bottle of drain cleaner. That was all they needed.

In a well-run facility, they never would've had the time or the privacy to go creating something like this, but Arkham was understaffed – and the administration believed it had the pair of them under control. That was always their downfall, honestly. They'd come up with a fancy new containment solution, and forget that the inmates here were pretty damn smart. And totally dedicated to getting _out_ again. Few things were as enduring as the human hunger for liberty.

They weren't able to make a _lot_ of acetone peroxide, but then, it didn't take much. Acetone peroxide was known in some terrorist circles as 'the mother of Satan' for its propensity to explode before the bomber in question wanted it to. Harley didn't care, she'd taken worse risks in her life, and gone to bed with someone even more volatile. It was Ivy who insisted they barricade themselves behind the mattresses before they set it off.

It was a one-and-done deal, Harley knew that going in, so she planted the explosive at one of the joints in the plexiglass panels. Setting it off was easy, it'd blow on its own in time, but really all it needed was a slight impact. A coin filched from the clinician's desk, fired from an improvised slingshot made of paper and rubber bands, was just enough.

The resulting _boom_ was very satisfying, and left them a jagged hole in both layers of plexiglass, big enough to step through. The breach triggered the freeze-spray from the ceiling, but with the blankets thrown over them, they managed to get through it, Harley pulling Pam along when the cold started to get to her. Once they were loose, the guards were no match for them – and since Joker was already out, they didn't even need to slow down on their way to the wall. Harley armed up with a riot shield, a collapsible baton, and a shotgun; Ivy grabbed guards and compelled them into service.

 _Free_ again, breathing air that wasn't filtered past moldering stone and half a dozen kinds of antiseptics, free to drink in the Gotham night with all its smog and danger, and Harley laughed deliciously. She'd emptied the shotgun getting out – it made a very effective lock-pick even on electronic locks – and now she twirled the baton gleefully, thinking of where she had weapons stashed around the city.

And how to find Mistah J, of course.

First things first, though, they had to _disappear_ , and Ivy had that covered. She'd taken the rude guard whose arm Harley had almost broken, and he drove them away in a haze of toxic mind-control. "You got a safehouse, Pam-a-lamb?" Harley asked.

Ivy rolled her eyes at the nickname. "I always do. We need to deal with this one – I'm sure my babies could use a little bone meal." She reached out and ruffled the guard's hair as he continued to drive with zombie-like detachment.

Harley chortled. "We gotta swing by the zoo and get _my_ babies out, too. Quick, before Batsy beats us there. They miss me, y'know."

"Of course they do," Ivy said. "We'll go and get them. Before we do _anything else_ , Harley, we need some research. The game is changing, with Hood cooperating with the Bats and this new one working with him. I won't be caught out by some meta with more powers than sense, especially not when no one even knows what kind of meta she _is_."

Harley thought about reminding her that she _was_ technically metahuman, but figured Pammy would argue about the human part of that statement. "We really do gotta do something about Batsy and all his pals. Bad enough the Red Robin brings a Wonder and a Super out to play, but now we got other metas who just about live here? Yikes. Really bringin' down the _tone_ of the neighborhood."

That at least earned her a chuckle, and the pair of them set about making plans.

…

Kala and Jay had the Bowery, as ever, when the call came in, Oracle's voice in their ears. "Blur, Hood, you're the closest to Arkham. Get on the move; Harley and Ivy just broke out."

Jay swore pungently, and Kala took his arm. "Where are we headed?" she asked, lifting into a hover. He grabbed her arm in a way that she'd never tell him was quite adorable, as Babs read off coordinates.

"Be careful," she also warned. "I have the rest of the team en route. Just keep them in sight, if you pick up their trail. They stole a guard's car, but they already ditched it for another vehicle. Coordinates are where they left the guard's car."

"Yes, fearless leader," Kala said, hearing a wordless grumble over the line.

"Seriously, K, watch your ass," Jay snapped, hanging on as she soared up above the city, plummeting back down again to the spot Babs had read off to them.

"That's what I have you for, Jay," she laughed, her blood up now that the hunt was on.

Harley and Ivy had stolen a car, obviously, the ditched vehicle already cordoned off by GCPD and an empty parking spot at the curb nearby. Jay glanced up, and Kala followed the line of his gaze, but there were no convenient cameras for Babs to hack. "Shit, no use asking bystanders," Jay growled. "Where would they be headed? Ivy usually hangs out in the park, but they're going the wrong way."

Kala circled around the uneasy police officers securing the car, staring at it intently. "That's blood on the driver's side window," she announced, which got their attention. "Hood, either one of them is hurt, or they have a hostage."

"This is Ivy. Any hostage is gonna be hostile," he said, and when the cops looked at him suspiciously, he raised his hands slightly in a conciliatory gesture. "Relax, boys, you'd rather us take 'em down. Right?"

Kala glanced at him, thinking about his question. Where _would_ they be going? This was Bruce's forte, but he wasn't on the comm line yet. Incommunicado somewhere, maybe not even in the city, and dammit, she didn't have to rely on Bruce for everything. Why bother getting trained if someone had to hold her hand every step of the way?

A voice in her memory, a tired and cynical young woman: _'_ _Harley doesn't bother us unless we try to stop her, and quite frankly, I don't get paid enough to mess with that.'_ She took a breath, turning to Jay. "I know where they're going. C'mon."

She suited action to words, sweeping Jay up, and he cursed again as she soared toward the city zoo. Kala picked a vantage point, a cell tower half a mile away, and landed them both there. "Fucking _warn_ a guy!" Jay spat, gripping the metal struts. "Jesus fuck on fighter jet, K, I think my stomach's still back in the goddamn Bowery!"

"Don't be such a wuss, I wouldn't drop you," she laughed, even as she looked for any car moving toward the zoo. Tapping her comm, she spoke up. "O, I think they might be coming to pick up Harley's hyenas. I don't see them yet, but they were headed this direction."

"Sounds like the smart bet," Jay groused. "Got anything coming our way, O?"

Kala could hear the clicking of keys and then Babs' fierce voice. "There's three cars plausibly en route to the zoo from where they ditched the guard's car. I'm tracking all of them. A white SUV, a red hatchback, and a dark blue or gray sedan."

"My money's on the SUV," Kala said. "Those hyenas are pretty big. O, did you hear us earlier? They might have a hostage."

"Probably the guard whose car they stole," Babs said grimly. "There was an incident in Arkham recently with a guard being slightly injured during a patient transfer. Harley was the patient. This might be revenge."

"And why are they getting revenge on someone they hurt?" Kala asked, frowning.

Babs' digitized chuckle was even drier than the live version. "Arkham's guards are … not the best. It's a hazardous occupation. And she's an attractive woman. I wouldn't be surprised that she hurt one of them for reason more complicated than boredom, but if they went this far, bringing a guard along, then that's Ivy's work, not Harley's. Ivy takes hostages at random if she needs help, but they didn't need this man, just his car. It seems premeditated. And even if it's not, they'll kill him before they're done."

"I see the hatchback," Jay announced, and Kala perked up, wishing for more of the x-ray vision. Hers was closer-range and didn't penetrate most metals, but she could see through the windshield of the hatchback just fine. Two men in the front, both of them rocking out … to one of _her_ songs playing on the radio, and Kala felt a chill as her worlds collided.

Fucking hell, the boys were out on the town tonight, _Sebast_ was out there somewhere, and fucking Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn were running loose. Frost crept over her, making her shudder, and Jay glanced at her. "K?" he asked.

She licked her dry lips and tried to smile. "If they'd been a day earlier, we coulda given them tickets to my show," she whispered.

"Get your shit together," he snapped harshly. "You're on Blur's time now, and as much as those two'd probably appreciate the corsets, that won't stop 'em from killing a whole lot of people if we don't bring them down. Don't fuck this up, K."

"Eat me, Jay," she spat, then realized what he'd done. "You _asshole_. I see what you did there. Thanks, nice to know the Blur's most useful when she's pissed."

"You're a lot less likely to _die_ when you're pissed," he retorted. "I'm not your friend in uniform, K, I'm your partner, and I need you on your game."

"Children, the dark sedan's coming up," Babs said.

"Got it," Kala said, focusing. "Remind me not to strangle my trainer when he's being a dick, but he's right about it."

"You haven't done it yet," Babs commented. "The car?"

"Packed," Jay said, looking through a scope.

"A woman and four kids," Kala added. "It's the SUV or nothing."

"I hope we didn't guess wrong," Jay fretted.

"I've got coverage checking out other avenues," Babs said. "Here comes the SUV."

All of them went silent, Jay tracking with the scope, Kala peering through the distance. They both spoke in unison, seeing the driver's uniform shirt and the redhead in the front seat. "It's them."

…

"Do not engage," Babs said sternly, even as she fed coordinates and priority requests to the other comms. Jay and Kala both affirmed, watching the SUV drive past them and up to the zoo. It had to be hard for them to hold back, but they'd learned a little patience.

She hated having the pair of them on the front line again, so soon after Joker's last escapade. No one had mentioned it aloud yet, but if Joker wanted to meet up with Harley, he'd be hanging around the zoo. She eventually went to get the damn hyenas every time; this early was unusual, but she was evidently trying to get the jump on the Bats. At least it made her somewhat predictable. Every ounce of predictability from anyone associated with Joker was welcome. He was too often pure chaos.

"They're at the zoo," Jay said over the comm. "In the gate already. She must know where they are."

Kala added, "I met the keeper who takes care of them. She said Harley always comes to get them, and the zoo doesn't get in her way. Above her pay grade. Wouldn't surprise me if they were getting updates to Harley. She seems to actually care about them."

Babs could _hear_ Jay's frown. "When did you meet the zookeeper?"

"When I came back for my checkup. Night of your birthday, Hood. Good thing I washed my hands after I petted them." Babs managed not to laugh at that answer; she knew that Kala loved animals, and she'd been gentle with the hyenas despite the fact that they would've tried to kill her.

"You _petted_ those things? The fuck you think you are, some kinda Disney princess?"

"Shut it, asshole, they're _animals_. It's not their fault. I like bats, too, and they like me."

Jay scoffed. "Yeah, and bats carry rabies."

"Oh, is that _your_ excuse?" Babs asked politely, and heard Kala dissolve into laughter. "Eyes and minds on the job, people. You can banter later."

"Yes, Mother Hen," Kala laughed.

Jay had a distance viewer, and reported, "They pulled up to one of the buildings. It's just three in the car, Ivy, Harley, and a guard from Arkham. The guard has to be under compulsion. How long 'til the rest get here? I don't wanna get my ass chewed off. I don't have K's Disney princess powers."

"Bite me, you jackass," Kala spat, and Babs heard Jay snap his teeth teasingly. Those two … if they wanted to keep their affair discreet, she'd have to keep them on a separate channel every time they worked. The sexual tension clearly wasn't fully resolved yet.

"Five minutes," Babs said evenly. "You have tranqs, right? Use them. The only reason I'm not sending you in right now is Ivy. I prefer backup for her."

"Speaking of which, put your filters in, K," Jay replied. His helmet already offered some protection, but he took it off momentarily to clip a set of small filters to his septum. They made his voice slightly nasal as he continued, "Don't get too close. We know her phermones'll work on you since they've worked on your dad. O, I can't see too well inside the building, but they must be breaking into the cage or whatever. No other movement."

"I'll play it safe," Kala reassured him, putting her own filters in, and Babs checked the others' tracking information. With a little luck, they could pull this off clean…

"A light just came on inside," Jay said.

"Shit, it's the keeper," Kala said. Babs could hear her alertness spiking up, see Kala in her mind's eye tensing as she looked across the distance. "Wait, what's … _gun!"_

The next thing Babs heard was a sound like a bang, and Jay cursing. "Fuck, she bolted! I'm going in, O."

"She said 'gun'," Babs said, sending urgent updates to everyone else. "They must've aimed at the zookeeper. At least Blur's faster than bullets. Still, _hurry_ , Hood."

"The fuck you think I'm doing?" he snapped irritably, while Babs pulled up the stats on Kala's comm. Trouble again, and Babs took a deep breath to center herself, ready to do everything she could to bring them all back safe.


	59. Meaner Than My Demons

Kala saw the light come on, her vision focusing tighter. She saw Harley working on the lock, the hyenas wagging their short tails ecstatically, Poison Ivy watching the door, the Arkham guard beside her. And at the end of the room, the same keeper Kala had met, opening the door and freezing in place. Despite her casual tone earlier, the woman looked very young and very nervous.

She was safe, Kala told herself, she'd dealt with Harley before, and in fact Harley barely glanced up. But the guard … the guard was drawing his gun, and Kala saw the keeper's eyes go wide.

 _Half a mile versus a bullet traveling twenty feet,_ she thought, and shouted, " _Gun!"_ to warn Babs and Jay. She couldn't bring him along, didn't know if her invulnerability would protect him at the speed she had to hit, and couldn't risk breaking his neck as she drove herself to accelerate as hard as she could. The sonic boom was almost instantaneous, the air slamming back together in her wake.

The guard had pulled the trigger before she crashed through the window, and Kala raced the bullets toward the startled keeper. At this speed, they were no threat to her, just small bits of lead hanging in the air. She swatted them toward the wooden back wall, away from everyone, even the hyenas. Not like this. No one needed to die today.

Slowing down wasn't easy, and she couldn't quite do it in that space, landing with her boots against the far wall hard enough to crack it. Kala sprang back, disarming the guard faster than he could see, putting him down with a quick combination of joint strikes.

Her next priority was the zookeeper, and Kala turned toward her, snapping, _"Run!"_ The woman was smart enough to already be turning to flee, and Kala let herself pause for a second, hearing Jay and Babs in her comm, knowing backup was coming.

It was a second too long.

Something heavy cracked across the back of her skull, hard enough to make her ears ring – hard enough to have fractured anyone who wasn't gifted with partial invulnerability. "Welcome to Gotham!" Harley sang out, drawing back for another swing.

Kala was seeing stars, but it didn't matter. No time. The danger level was too high to let it register. Jay had taught her how to fight without needing to see. She came up inside Harley's range, catching her with a body blow that flung her across the room. Her vision was clearing, and she oriented on Ivy, who was moving around the perimeter of the fight. Staying back for now, and that was good, it bought Kala time to recover from the blow to her head.

The hyenas were already loose when she'd come in, and suddenly they were on her. Their tame behavior before was gone; she'd attacked their owner, and the part of Kala's mind that loved watching Animal Planet and National Geographic remembered that spotted hyenas were matriarchal. She'd attacked their clan mother, essentially, and both males would now fight to the death for Harley. The bigger one knocked Kala off her feet, powerful jaws clamped around her arm, and the other grabbed her ankle. Both of them shook their heads, pulling like they were trying to tear her in half.

There was no way they could possibly manage that, not with a Kryptonian, but it was still disorienting. If she'd been willing to harm them, Kala could've gotten loose immediately, but she did not hurt innocents – and animals couldn't make moral judgments. They just acted according to instinct and training; she couldn't blame them. Kala shoved the bigger hyena off, rolling over, and aimed a kick at the one gnawing her leg. The armor in her uniform held up against their teeth, but the pressure still hurt. She grimacing, regretted that 'invulnerable to most harm' didn't overlap with 'insensible to most pain'. But that was just her complaining; she'd live, and somehow she'd get herself out of this before Jay got here. He'd give her unending shit for letting herself get gnawed on.

The big hyena regained his footing, and braced himself, yanking back. Kala was absurdly reminded of playing tug with the beagles. The arch of the spine and the blazing intensity in the expression were the same, whether it was a thirty-pound dog yanking on a rope or a hundred-pound hyena yanking on her _arm_. Kala hauled back, and bopped it over the nose with her other fist. Not as hard as she could, still trying to spare them. They weren't the villains here. Just enough to sting, and hopefully make him let go.

The hyena snarled, wrinkling its muzzle, ending all resemblance to a playful dog. And the other one was circling, snapping its jaws, looking for an opening. Kala surged to her feet, knowing Jay was coming, knowing the rest were on their way as well. She hauled the big hyena up too, and struck its nose again, jerking her arm to lift it off the ground.

She saw Harley coming in, and tried to turn to block her, but the other hyena hit her side, jaws clamping where the uniform wasn't armored. It hurt enough to be distracting, and Harley got her weapon – a police baton, Kala saw with dark humor – under the shelf of her jaw. Kala tried to tuck her chin, but it was too late, Harley yanking back hard enough to cut off her air.

Jay had taught her how to escape a chokehold. Lean back, get her foot behind Harley's, transition to a throw. She even had twice as long as most people before her brain ran out of oxygen and dumped her on the floor. But with two big hyenas trying to rip into her, snarling and throwing their weight against her, Kala couldn't keep her balance enough to manage that.

All four of them went to the ground. Fine, Kala could ground-fight, she let the damn hyena have her arm for now and reached up with her other hand to pry Harley's fingers off the baton. The fall granted her a few precious seconds to gasp air in, whistling past her nasal filters, before Harley ratcheted up the pressure again.

"We weren't properly introduced, last time. So what's your deal anyway, new girl?" Harley asked laughingly, as Kala applied pressure to her wrist. Most people would let go when their bones began to creak in protest; Harley just tightened her grip.

One of the hyenas moved, scrabbling across her midsection looking for a better place to bite, and it drove the air out of Kala's lungs. No more was coming in unless she got loose. She closed her eyes in concentration, fingertips digging in to find the tendons in Harley's wrist and force her to let go. Seconds left before she blacked out, but seconds were all she needed.

Something brushed her face, softly, a sensation Kala _knew_. The feel of a woman's long hair spilling across her cheek wasn't all _that_ far in her past. Her eyes sprang open again, realizing she'd forgotten about the most dangerous foe in the room for too many moments. And Ivy was _way_ too close, green eyes focused and intent, and Kala braced herself to bolt…

Ivy's hand wrapped around her chin, Ivy's soft lips pressed to hers, a heavy dose of narcotics and hallucinogens and stranger compounds delivered right to the vulnerable mucous membranes. Kala's mouth buzzed, a soporific wave sweeping up into her brain, and even as she broke Harley's hold at last, she was already checking out.

…

Half a mile. He could run it in under two minutes. Getting down the damn radio tower ate up precious seconds, and there was no good rooftop approach, Jay had to run at ground level. He wasn't a sprinter, Tim was faster, hell _Dick_ was faster, but it wasn't that far.

It couldn't be too far. He wouldn't let it be.

"Her heart rate just dropped," Babs informed him. "She may have been knocked out. Wing's five minutes behind you."

Jay wanted to snarl at her to tell Dick to hurry, but that was oxygen he could use to run. He vaulted the fence, landing hard, no time for finesse. Into the complex, animal noises in the night around him, heading for the building off the main path where lights were on and a window was shattered. Jay launched through it, not even checking the scene, and damn that was _stupid_. All he could see in his mind's eye was the look on Kala's face when Joker had shot her, and he was _not_ gonna let that happen again.

If they lived through this, he'd break her of jumping ahead of him. Somehow. Even if it killed them both.

The scene was a snapshot: the Arkham guard nearest the door, just getting up. The two hyenas next, both of them focused on Harley, who was standing up, armed with a police baton. And Kala … Kala on her knees, looking up at Ivy who cradled her chin in one hand. Ivy who _smiled_ and brushed the hair out of Kala's eyes.

Oh, hell, maybe he was in time, she'd had her filters in…

Jay was loaded with tranqs, but he'd come in too fast, skidding to a halt before he could start lining up targets. First off, the guard jumped on him, unarmed, just trying to slow him down, and shit, Jay couldn't hurt him. He managed to get loose, hearing the hyenas snarling, but also hearing Harley calling them back.

Just as he dumped the guard on his ass, he heard Ivy's voice, amused and assured. "Stop him." He braced for the guard to launch again, but it wasn't the guard she'd spoken to.

Kala was on him, too fast to block, too fast to _see_ , and he was pinned against the wall and disarmed in a blink. Her pupils were blown, but her nasal filters were still in, and oh shit, Ivy must've kissed her. That meant a larger dose of her chemicals, delivered by a more direct route. How it happened didn't matter, she was under Ivy's control now, and she'd taken everything that might possibly be a weapon, including his belt. He shouldn't have shown her how to get the damn thing off. _Fuck fuck_ _ **fuck**_ _!_ "Easy, Blur, I'm not your enemy," he rasped out, as she held his throat in a too-strong hand.

"Okay, that's _damn_ fast, I see why they call her the Blur. Now I don't feel so bad about her taking me down," Harley said, sounding impressed. She kicked the Arkham guard. "Bring the car, we're gettin' outta here. Red, whatcha wanna do with the heroes?"

"I want to know what she is," Ivy said thoughtfully, and Jay's gut went cold.

"Good luck," he spat, watching Kala's eyes, her gaze gone eerily blank; his girl usually had a hard time masking her expressions, firing on all cylinders all the time. There was nothing there, nothing at all. Jay almost preferred the look of rapt fascination she'd worn before, when she looked up at Ivy worshipfully. "Even compromised, she won't tell you."

Saying that also let the backup know what they were walking into. In his ear, Babs cursed softly. Jay shifted his gaze to Harley. "Backup's coming. Unless you wanna go back while your cell's still warm, you'd better run."

Outside, the car fired up, and Harley paused with her hand on the door. "Red? You wanna get the Hood, too? New girl'll hold him."

"No, he's too unpredictable," Ivy said.

"Thank you," Jay said, grinning. "Dunno if your V8 juice cocktail even works on guys who've been _dead_ and all."

Anger flickered in Ivy's eyes, but she looked at Kala instead. "Blur," she said, with that seductive harmonic, and Jay saw Kala's expression soften then as she turned. That warm, gentle look _he_ was used to getting, and yeah, he'd like to run up against Ivy some night with a couple gallons of Round-Up at his disposal. It was all too telling exactly how far gone Kala was.

Ivy tilted her head, thinking, as Harley went out, whistling the hyenas into the car. Meanwhile Jay said, "Blur, this isn't you. You can break loose of it."

"Oh, I doubt that," Ivy chuckled. "Blur, I don't want him following us. Slow him down a little, would you?"

 _ **FUCK,**_ Jay thought. Kala seemed to ignore it, frozen, but she was holding him by the throat. He only had one weapon that worked on her and she'd snatched the kris away first. If he hit her hard enough, maybe, but it wouldn't stop her for more than a second or two.

Ivy frowned at the lack of reaction. "Blur? A broken leg should do."

Kala drew in a deep, deep breath, her hand shaking just the slightest for some reason, and Jay heard the sizzle as her eyes ignited. "Aw fuck, not that," he groaned.

But then he realized after a beat that Kala wasn't looking at him at all. Her voice – the Empress' voice – came out ringing with outrage. "You _dare_ command me?"

She did look at him then with those terrible fiery eyes, but there was no threat in it, just a grave assessment. With a bare nod, her grip on him loosed and fell away, slowing her touch at the end, almost as if in apology. Kala stepped away from him then, all danger and grace, her body language locked on Ivy, predatory as a hawk sighting a rabbit on the ground. Ivy stepped back, eyes widening.

"You should _run_ , Ivy," Jay snapped. He didn't actually give a fuck if Kala flash-fried her, considering what she'd tried to do, but K'd feel guilty later.

Harley came back to the door and saw the change in the situation. She reacted fast, firing the guard's gun at Kala, who swatted the bullets away negligently. Her lips curled up in a dark smirk, practically daring Harley to make another move. Ivy bolted, catching Harley on the way even as Jay grabbed Kala's arm.

They could stop this, right now, but with the Empress in charge, it'd end with three bodies on the floor. He couldn't let Kala kill them. Harley and Ivy had enough kills to their names, Jay didn't care if they made it out, but the guard? He was just a victim. And the Empress would take him down, too, in righteous fury. "Get us out of here, we don't know what toxins are around," he ordered, hoping the habit of obeying her trainer carried over.

She blinked, the lasers cutting off, and took his command literally. The next thing Jay knew, they were standing on a mile of empty air, his stomach protesting the sudden change in altitude, his ears aching as they popped. And Kala was holding him by the shoulders, looking at him with cold curiosity. Fuck, she didn't even look like the girl he'd been sleeping with, not with _that_ expression on her face. He managed not to reflexively grab at her, stifling a few choice words. "Okay, I said _out_ , not _up_. Jesus fuck, I hate this shit."

"You ought to have been more specific," she told him in that so-proper voice, her accent making her sound almost slightly British, still hovering.

Jay could hear Babs in his ear, calling orders to the rest, telling them he was okay … but that Kala was compromised. Tim didn't even know about the Empress, and now wasn't the time. Jay already knew they probably couldn't even _see_ him up here. It was down to him and Kala, and if he screwed this up, she'd probably drop him and go grind Ivy into paste for having fucked with her head.

If he acted afraid of her, though, she might turn on him. So he did what was natural to him, and pushed. "See, you wouldn't be in the middle of this if you hadn't jumped ahead of me," he told her.

"The girl would not risk your life. Her speed might have broken your neck on launching. Or, in decelerating, pulped all your organs against your body wall with inertia." She said it so flatly, but she was still looking at him way too intensely. "Why did you call me off, when I would have ended them both for the insult?"

"Because your dad would be _really_ pissed at me for letting you kill people," Jay said, trying for the best method of making her fold. And trying not to freak out at the dissociative way she spoke. It was one thing to read in a file, another to hear the Empress speak of Kala in the third person.

It didn't work. A flicker in her eyes, a single flash of dismay, but Kala still wasn't home, and Jay's mind raced, trying to sort out how to salvage this.

…

Kala had been … almost asleep, wrapped up warm and safe and cozy. Ivy was good, Ivy was wise, Ivy would take care of her. All she had to do was obey, and everything would keep being wonderful. There wasn't enough joy in her life, she could drink in that feeling of peace and comfort and happiness for _days_.

Until the Red Hood intruded. Rude of him to interfere, and as Ivy commanded, she halted him. She knew him so very well, knew all his moves, knew how to scan him for weapons and remove them before he could even begin to counter her. So the request was simple to fulfill.

And then … Ivy asked her to hurt him. To break his leg. Nothing fatal, just a wound calculated to stop pursuit.

That stopped her.

She _could_ do such a thing, quite easily. But hurt _this_ man? Her trainer, her friend, her partner, her lover? He who had been so hurt by so many and who still dared to let a damaged thing like her into his circle of trust? _No_. That betrayal was monstrous, so far against her nature that it shattered Poison Ivy's hold on her, sheer outrage burning through the stew of happy chemicals sloshing around her brain.

And rage woke her darker self.

The Empress turned, fuming, on the one who had dared to interfere with her very _mind_. And if not for Jason Todd, she would have killed for the offense. He warned her of the toxins that Ivy could create, and she got them both out of there as quickly as possible.

He protested, of course, and tried to scold her. She arched a sardonic brow at him. There had not been time to bring him along safely; what did it matter? No innocents had died, and even the villains escaped unscathed. Though there would be a reckoning in Poison Ivy's future, she was certain of _that_.

He mentioned her father, and the world wavered around her … but her body and brain still hummed with strange chemicals. This was a situation the Empress could not entrust to her gentler self. "Then you have done as he would have requested; the villains live," she said, still looking intently at him.

Jason Todd cocked his head and looked right back at her with frank blue eyes behind his iconic helmet. "Huh, I thought that'd work. K, what's my favorite swear?"

"Some variety of blasphemous obscenity," she replied, but then continued with a certain fascination. So brave, this one, especially where she and the girl were concerned. How could she help facing him when the opportunity presented itself? He piqued her interest. "You are unafraid of me."

"Should I be afraid?" he asked.

It was an honest question, she realized. "Most are," she admitted.

"I think I know you better than most people," he said easily.

That won him a smile, slow and thoughtful. No, no real fear in this one, knowing too much of the truth of her nature. He had been allowed too close to deny. "Yes, you do."

Beneath his helmet, he grinned. "Wanna head back to my place and I'll show you how well I know you?"

She could hear the digitized voice in his ear hissing, "Careful!" and the Empress chuckled. His implication was heavy-handed, inescapably crude, but still charming.

Jason Todd answered with a laugh of his own. "Ease down, O, she's fine. More curious than anything. And I bet Ivy hit you with a big dose of endorphins, didn't she? You probably just wanna cuddle."

"My kind are not so vulgarly obsessed with touch as yours," the Empress told him, lofting her brows. But the thought certainly was tempting; whatever Ivy had done left her feeling lazy and content, once her outrage at the manipulation had passed. And he _was_ a very handsome specimen. The girl was certainly quite fond of him. Who would know if she dallied just a bit...

"What a shame," he said, and his grin became rakish. "Do I get a chance to change your mind on that?"

The Oracle's voice whispered harshly, "Is that your strategy? Hit on her 'til she drops you in the bay?"

He chuckled again, never breaking eye contact with the Empress. "Nah. More like remind her that I really enjoy a girl who tastes like sunlight."

 _That_ rattled her, memory rising to the surface of her mind, this beautiful man's wicked mouth whispering those words against her skin, and just like that Kala was back in control of herself. It was dizzying how quickly it happened after that. She felt _exhausted_ suddenly, but Jay still managed to make her blush. "Dammit, Jay, don't say that on an open comm!"

"Welcome back," Babs said in her ear. "Don't worry, I isolated that circuit. Your immune system is burning through Ivy's control, so it's probably going to make you feel sleepy soon."

"Already there," Kala admitted. And then remembered, with merciless clarity, how she'd taken Jay down. "Ohhh, shit … Jay, I'm sorry, I didn't…"

He reached up to swat her gently in the temple. "I'm not pissed about you coming at me. Chicks who can kick my ass is basically my kink, remember? I'm a lot more pissed that you took off and left me to run after you."

"I'm sorry, I should have said something. Something more, anyway. There wasn't time. But Jay, I couldn't risk breaking your neck at those speeds. And I had the best chance of intercepting," she complained, frowning at him with a little shrug. A chill ran down her spine, shocked at how blasé he was being. "I really could've hurt you, you know that, when she sicced me on you! I'm amazed that I didn't!"

"We're lucky she did," Babs said. "It let you break her control faster. And K, it proves that you _will not_ harm an ally. That one goes in the notes."

"Yeah, you can put 'aggressive flirting' as a strategy to bring her out of Empress-mode, too, right below making her swear," Jay laughed. "C'mon, K, let's get my crap and see if we can't catch up to Harley and Ivy."

"About that … patching you into the main channel," Babs said.

"They seriously bolted _that_ fast?" Tim was saying angrily.

"Something spooked them," Dick replied.

Kala winced, but Jay chuckled. "Yeah, Ivy thought she could take K. I'll _bet_ they're spooked; it didn't work out so well for the queen of the garden department there. Where's the trail? We're on it."

"No, K's benched and so are you," Babs said sternly. "I want you both at Clock Tower for a quick physical."

"Aww come on, I'm fine," Jay groused. "And those two are getting away! You know close air support's damn handy for shit like this."

Dick broke in. "Jay, go take care of your partner. We got the guard back, and the zookeeper's fine. You both need to get checked out."

"I _need_ to put a boot in Ivy's ass for trying to _steal_ my partner," Jay growled, and Kala realized that all of his joking and flirting had had this edge underneath. He was really shaken by the thought of almost losing her.

"K's not susceptible to Ivy?" Tim asked.

"I wish," Kala said shakily. It had to be the adrenaline dump; too many overriding events in the last hour, traces of the Empress' presence still disorienting her. But if Jay wanted to go, she'd buckle under. God knew they didn't need those two on the loose. Better to have them caught and cuffed before any more mayhem could be dreamed up. Too damned bad this had to be in the middle of the damn night; a recharge on the way would be too welcome. "I'll be fine, guys, just give me a few minutes to even out. Gotta get back on my game."

Jay's attention snapped from the comm to her, and he peered intently at her eyes. "Yeah, no, you're looking a little shocky. Can you get us to Clock Tower, K? Or at least, y'know, land? I don't really wanna splat from this height."

That was when she realized that she really _had_ taken them up, glancing down at the glitter of the Gotham lights below her. Yeah, that had been a little excessive, but she should have expected nothing less from Her Highness. "Yeah, point. Sorry about that, Red. Safer that way," she murmured, adjusting her hold to encircle his waist. God, could the Empress ever do anything that wasn't about the goddamn intimidation? "Let's go."

" _Height?_ Where are you?" Dick asked.

"About a mile up," Kala said wanly. "Jay told me to get out, so I did. A bit too much."

"Yeah, it's nice working with someone who listens," Jay said. He took hold her of her shoulders. "Seriously, K, I can settle with Ivy another day. Let's get you into some sunlight or something, okay?"

Once again, here he was reading her mind, even when it turned his plans sideways. And he was always calling himself a thoughtless bastard. Right. Whatever he had to tell himself. Kala couldn't help a small laugh, quirking her lips up at him in a tired smile. "It's eleven at night, Jay. It'll take a while if I do it, you know, get it evened out now. I'll have to go to the other side of the planet for that. I'll put you behind."

Jay scoffed. "I'll be fine, K. Never mind, just drop me off with the guys – but check back in before you leave, all right? Some of that shit takes a while to work outta your system."

"That sounds like a good plan," Babs cut in. "You two sort it out. D, R, I'm trying to trace them but not having any luck. The car's just gone."

Jay tapped his comm, cutting them out of the shared line, and raised his eyebrows 'til Kala did the same. "Are you really all right, K? 'Cause we can go back to the bunker and wait it out. The fabulous duo down there can keep up the hunt."

Her heart turned over at that, trying not to let it show as clearly as she felt it. "No, really, just a little out-of-sorts. Tired. She tends to do that when she shows up and flexes her muscles. But, forget that. Are _you_ okay?" she asked plaintively.

Jay leaned toward her until his helmet rested against her forehead. "One, I asked you first. Two, I'm not the one who actually fought them and got mind-controlled. The worst thing that's happened to _me_ tonight was you flying like I drive. So yeah, K, I'm fine. Now answer me, dammit."

"Like I said, just … tired," she murmured reassuringly, then paused. Best to tell him what was actually on her mind. Might be the best thing, making sure he knew. Jay had earned that. "And worried. Seems like we're seeing a lot of _her_ lately. That worries me; she tends to stay down for months and years at a time."

"It's Gotham. Brings out the dark stuff," Jay said. "And you just went after one of our nastier villains. How'd she get you, anyway?"

Kala gave a laugh, knowing the distraction for what it was and taking it gratefully. "I took out the guard before he could shoot the zookeeper. Then Harley and the hyenas were on me. Harley was trying to choke me out, I was prying her off, and Ivy leaned in and laid a kiss on me." She paused, thinking, and scowled. "I bet that was Harley's plan all along, to restrain me just long enough for that. Ivy was saying she wanted to know what I am."

"Well congrats, if you come by my place after, you can make out with two of Gotham's scariest villains in the same night," Jay teased. Kala narrowed her eyes at him, recognizing his humor as a defense tactic. "Seriously, they didn't have time to interrogate you, and it's not likely you'll be in the same situation again. We're all good. You're just hitting adrenaline dump right now."

He was right; she knew he was right, but it didn't make her feel any better about cutting out. "Yeah, you're right," Kala sighed. "I hate to be such a fucking flake. Especially when you could really use me. I'm part of the reason we're tracking to another location."

Jay swatted her upside the head, not so gently that time. "Knock it off. Most people would still be swooning around waiting for her to tell 'em what to do. Most of us take a day to burn it out, even with antidotes. You're just lucky, K."

"I feel real lucky," she said dryly.

"Don't be an ass. Put me down, go get some sun, then come by the apartment later. Who knows, maybe I'll make you dinner. I actually have food in the fridge, thanks to someone trying to watch out for my ass. All I can do is return the favor." He must've realized how that sounded, because Jay added, "And if I get my way, you'll need the energy for after dinner."

That put a smile on her face, Kala cocking her head at him, the curiosity this time warm and amused. Well, that was unexpected and too welcome, startling a laugh out of her. "You're going to _cook_? I have to be in my final hours and you're just not telling me I'm dying. The kiss is fatal, isn't it? You have to be honest with me, Red. Will I live to see tomorrow?"

"Keep giving me shit, you might not," he shot back, but he was grinning. "I don't fucking _cook_ , K, but I can follow directions on a package if it's just throwing stuff in the oven or the microwave for however long. I never had time to learn to cook. When'd you go to culinary school, since you're picking at me?"

She smirked. "The Kents cook. You forget the Kansas connection; Dad and Jase and I can all cook. I can even do pancakes from scratch – I think Alfred's secret might be a dash of apple cider vinegar instead of lemon juice. A little mild acid plus baking soda makes them extra fluffy."

"Well excuse me, chef," Jay laughed. "Drop me by the action, go get sunned up, and then get in my kitchen and make supper."

She arched a brow, recognizing the sarcasm – Jay would never _seriously_ tell a woman to go make him a sandwich. But he always called up the playful part of her, that loved a challenge. "If you're lucky, I just might."

Smiling, he replied, "That's settled then. Now put me down, flygirl, and let me get to work."

"If you're sure," she said, taking a moment to be serious.

Jay laughed and shook his head. "K. Fucking _go_. Come back when you feel like telling me I'm an asshole again, all right?"

"If you insist. Just remember it was your idea," she finally said, and flew them both down.

…

Only once Jay had retrieved his stuff – nice of Kala not to damage anything, and she'd even remembered the catch on the belt this time – she insisted on taking him to where Dick and Tim were trying to pick up the trail again. She finally flew off, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Jay had demanded that she spend at least an hour in the sun, wanting her to have every chance of burning Ivy's toxins out of her system, and she'd argued but finally agreed.

Which just left him with two of Arkham's problem children to help his brothers find. Dick was glaring at the SUV they'd finally located. Harley had probably been the one to hide it, and she'd done so by the simple expedient of driving it through a plate-glass store window. On this side of town, Babs didn't have many cameras to hack into, and the store had been shuttered for months if not years, so no alarm went off. "Well great," Jay said, glaring at it. "They ran off on foot, so they can't be far."

Tim was looking over the guard, who'd been dosed with antitoxins and cuffed to the shop's door handle to keep him still. The guy looked out of it, and he was scraped up, but Jay figured at a glance that he'd live. Tim glanced up at Jay, and left the guard. "How's K?"

"She'll be fine. Off to get some sun and burn the rest of it out," he replied.

Tim just frowned. "How did Ivy get her? We put filters in her kit."

Jay sighed, because he was still annoyed. "She saw the guard pull a gun on the zookeeper, and jumped ahead. Seriously, I see why metas drive B nuts. You can't stop 'em from doing their thing. Anyway, she had the filters in, but Ivy kissed her."

Dick turned around at that. "And we're letting her go off _alone_ to recuperate? That's risky."

Jay shrugged. "She already broke the control. Ivy shouldn't have asked her to break my leg, is all. Speaking of which, I own the queen o' green an ass-kicking. So let's find her, all right?"

Tim just tapped his comm. "O, you're monitoring Blur?"

They all heard the answer. "She's recovering. Remember, D, none of you are ever _truly_ alone. Not with me around."

That got the desired response, Dick laughing. "Thanks, O. I'll remember that. Should I put on the Magic Mike soundtrack on my way into the shower?"

"Could you _not_?" Tim groaned, shaking his head.

Jay, meanwhile, had been casting around, finding no immediate traces of their quarry. So he made a guess. "If I was trying to run and had two people and two hyenas to hide, I'd get out of sight. Where's the nearest sewer grate? And what's Killer Croc been up to lately?"

Dick nodded. "That'd be my bet, too."

At that, Tim groaned. "Wonderful. I swear the smell never really comes out of the uniforms."

"Hey, if we're lucky, Croc'll eat the damn hyenas for us," Jay laughed. "C'mon, Timbo, time to get your boots wet. O? Find us a way in?"

The nearest manhole access turned out to only be a block away, and it had recently been opened. Jay smirked at the way the other two looked down at the noisome dark. "Don't worry, guys, the big bad Hood'll protect you from sewer rats."

"Well aren't you chipper," Tim grumbled, as Dick took point. "Are you always like this when you almost get killed?"

"Always," Jay replied. "But then, for me, almost getting killed is like, a Tuesday."

He sure wasn't going to tell either of his brothers why he was in a good mood. Hell, he wasn't entirely sure which of the last half-hour's events were primarily responsible. The relief of getting Kala back from Ivy's control? The wicked joy of seeing the Empress looking at him like she wanted to start breaking some Kryptonian taboos? Or just the knowledge that Kala would be coming over later?

Yeah, that last one probably had a lot to do with it. Still laughing, Jay dropped down the ladder.

…

An hour in the sun over the Pacific, and Kala felt like herself again. Golden warmth tingled over her skin, and the last shreds of fog were gone from her mind. She'd kept track of the boys as they headed into the sewer, and listened in enough to know they weren't in danger.

Of course, she'd now had enough time to get really _angry_ about the mind control, and that distracted her from eavesdropping on the mission. Poison Ivy had better be real damn careful, the next time they crossed paths. Kala still couldn't see any other way she could've handled the situation, except for not looking to see if the keeper was okay. Or not going gently on the hyenas and the guard. She couldn't change that, and still be herself. It had ended all right, anyway – despite everything, she had training and backup, she survived and so did her team.

And Jay, impossibly stubborn arrogant man that he was, had figured out one more way to downshift her from Empress mode.

Kala shivered at that thought. He _really_ didn't need to be playing around with the shadow in the back of her brain, but as was typical, the more dangerous something was, the more he couldn't resist.

For now, she needed to get herself back on track. And her little jest to him was the perfect way to do that. Chuckling, Kala headed back to Jay's apartment, letting herself in. He'd kept it clean since she was here last, although there were dishes in the sink. She glanced through the fridge and pantry, thinking. As much as she wanted to show off, he might turn his nose up at anything fancy. She'd heard him talk about comfort food, so something like a casserole would probably hit the spot. But still, something far enough off the beaten path that she wouldn't be competing with Alfred.

And she was going to need to make a grocery run, Kala decided. At least, with a quick shower and one of his shirts and a pair of jeans she'd left in the bunker after a quick-change last week, she could stop in a grocery store without drawing attention. The uniform really wasn't practical for shopping, even in Gotham – too much leather. All she needed was some spices, a rotisserie chicken, and a can of pumpkin. He had the bacon and the mozzarella cheese and the pasta.

Oh, and a convection oven to cook it in, because all Jay had was a stovetop and a microwave.

By the time Jay came home another hour later, it was almost done. And any cute sarcastic welcome she would've given him was stopped by the wave of fug that followed him in the apartment. "Ew! Gross, Jay, take a shower! You reek!"

"I already took a shower in the bunker," he complained from the doorway.

"I have super-senses, go take another," Kala shot back. She stepped away from the new convection oven to look at him, and frowned. "Seriously, Jaybird, you're the hottest thing I've ever seen, but Jesus Christ you _smell_. Like ass and week-old garbage." A pause, and her stomach churned. "Oh _no_. That's right, you had to go into the sewers. Did you at least find something?"

"Nope, nothing useful. They gave us the slip, and B-man came into it too late to pull a save out of thin air. Don't worry, it's Harley. She'll do something fucking crazy that'll give her away; she always does." He moved past her to the bathroom, throwing a salacious grin her way. "Thanks for the 'hottest thing you've ever seen', but it can't be true unless you've never heard of a mirror."

Kala laughed at that. Why the hell couldn't it be a little _less_ true? "Cute. Just go get showered. Again."

In ten minutes he was back, smelling like something citrusy, and she must've raised her eyebrows because he shrugged. "Look, in this job, you learn real quick which soaps actually take the funk off. So what's the latest culinary creation from Chef Kala?"

She poked him in the chest. "First off, if you're a douche about it, you can eat microwave meals and cheap takeout for the rest of your life."

"Yes, ma'am," Jay said. He paused, and looked at her sideways. "Shit, K, you know how weird this is? Literally only three times in my life I've come home to actual food being cooked: when I was at home before Mom got sick, when I was at the Manor and Alfred cooked, and when I was with Donna."

That made her stiffen, just a little. Shit, she hadn't even thought about that. Yeah, that was the absolute _last_ impression she wanted to make on him. Especially with how awkward things were with Donna. "Okay, hold up. Not trying to spook you, Jay. You _did_ kinda dare me. You should know by now I don't pass up a challenge."

He took hold of her shoulders. "I did. It's just … I don't have a baseline for normal shit. So yeah. Food that someone actually gave enough of a shit to put together for me, that's not from a restaurant. It _smells_ good. What's on the menu?"

"Just some chicken and pasta casserole," she finally said with a shrug, leaning into him. "With bacon and pumpkin sauce."

" _Pumpkin_ sauce?" he asked, curious.

 _I should have known._ "Just shut up and try it, asshole," she muttered, elbowing him. She gave him a teasing glare, still a little wary but willing to play it off. "Pumpkin does good in savory stuff too. That's why you get it in samosas sometimes. Besides, if I was going to go really fancy, I would've done coq au vin but I figured you wouldn't eat it."

"I've had that, actually," Jay said. "Catered from a place in Paris with three Michelin stars. Wasn't bad."

Kala threw her head back and _laughed_. "Doesn't that just figure. I'm glad I didn't make it, then. I couldn't have survived the comparison."

He shrugged. "Too fancy for me. I'd've lived on pizza and burgers and chili dogs, if I could."

"Jay, coq au vin literally started as a way to make an old tough rooster taste good. It's not _that_ fancy, chicken and mushrooms in wine. Restaurants just like to dress things up." Kala shook her head. "I can guess who picked the restaurant. Same person who wore thousand-dollar sandals to breakfast. Not pretentious at _all_."

He leaned back and looked at her skeptically. "You priced her shoes?"

Never mind how petty that made her sound, Kala tossing off the slight rebuke with a nonchalant shrug. "It's a chick thing. I knew what her outfit and her accessories cost. I even knew what message she was sending: that she's rich enough not to need to show off how rich she is." Kala crossed her arms and stared up at him.

"Yeah, well, the al Ghuls fuck around with the global economy. They make Bruce look middle class," Jay said, with a shrug that made it clear how little he cared about that kind of money. "You're better off with casserole. That sounds more like my style, anyway."

"I know," she told him archly. Kala bit her lip, then said, "Okay, look, I just realized something. I cleaned this place up the other week, and now I cooked for you. Don't start thinking I'm trying to do the happy homemaker thing, all right? That's not me. Most of my meals are takeout, because most of the time I'm on the road with the band. It's just, if I want Thai food from actual Thailand, I can get it. I can cook, but it takes less time to go pick it up."

"And see, I like that about you," Jay said earnestly. "Can't mistake you for ordinary. You're a freaking Goth rock star who flies to freaking _Thailand_ for your green papaya salad."

At that, she could only shrug. "Actually, I'm just … me. Sorry if you mistook the fact that you're fucking a rock star."

He glowered at her, and rumpled her hair roughly until she yelped and swatted him. "Knock that shit off, I'm fucking Supergirl. _And_ a rock star. And the chick who thinks she figured out Alfred's secret pancake recipe. I'm just the dumb-lucky asshole who gets to fuck all three at once without having to snort some Viagra first, 'cause they're all the same person."

That dissolved Kala into giggles, and she swatted lightly at him. "Okay, Robin. Enough with the ribald humor. Dinner should be about done."

Jay eyed her for that. "Robin? Really? You don't have any better nicknames?"

Mentally, she winced, realizing only then that she had added that aloud. Oh, _that_ was sure to go over like a lead balloon. But instead of apologizing, she decided to just brazen it out. It wasn't as if he hadn't _been_ Robin, whether he wanted to admit it or not. And it didn't sound as if he wanted to fight about it. "Somehow I just associate crotch-shot Robins with crude humor. Must be all the puns they learned from their big brothers," Kala said archly, pulling away to head for the kitchen. "Besides, you call me Supergirl, I'll call you Robin. At least everyone knows Blur isn't a kid."

Jay smacked her rump as she turned, making Kala yip and swat him. "You're definitely no kid," he laughed. "C'mon, Princess, let's eat. I'm planning on having _you_ for dessert."

"Caveman."


	60. If I Look Deep Enough

**Authors' Note:** We've had a significant lead on this story for much of the time we've been posting, but that lead has gradually evaporated thanks to work and other real-life nuisances. Also several key scenes in the back half of the series weren't written up way back when the three of us started, because they're just too damn painful. (Consider that your warning - there is angst ahead. Here there be dragons.)

So we're moving to a once-per-week publishing schedule, on Monday nights. Hopefully it won't be too much of an inconvenience. Thank you all for reading, and especially for reviewing. And without further ado, the chapter...

* * *

Kala had the strangest sensation; she was _home_ , she knew it, every square inch of the scenery calling out to her … but she didn't know where exactly she was. The ground beneath her feet seemed to accept each stride as if she'd been born to walk upon it, and the buildings around her pleased her eye from every angle. Always the feeling of familiarity, of homecoming, soothed her. It was odd, though, that for all she seemed to recognize her surroundings, she couldn't put a name to any of it. Kala strolled onward, looking around curiously, until a voice spoke from just behind her.

"You _are_ home, Kala Kal-El, Last Daughter of Krypton." It was Dru-Zod's voice, speaking Kryptonese, and she understood then. The crystal buildings, the spotless pavement, these things could belong to no place on Earth.

"Kryptonopolis," she murmured, turning to face Dru-Zod.

But he wasn't there, speaking again from just behind her. "You shall not see me. You would not wish to see me. You know why, Kala Kal-El."

She shuddered. That was right, she'd killed him almost a decade ago; she'd been present when his lead-lined coffin was launched toward the sun. Dru-Zod's remains had been committed to the fires of a star, a fit ending for one who had crossed galaxies. He was not even ash now, a speck of plasma in the heart of the sun.

Kala turned instead to look at the wonder spread out all around her. Above her, great Rao shone on the city, reflecting reddish glints in the crystal structures. Everywhere she saw the same asymmetrical, haunting beauty of the Fortress, the crystals seemingly arranged randomly while actually following a careful plan. When she came closer, her own reflection looked out at her, a thousand Kalas peering curiously from within the many facets.

"You long for the glory of Krypton," Dru-Zod told her. He was not visible in the reflections, but his voice continued to come from right behind her, and her shoulders tightened in anticipation of corpse-cold breath.

"No," she whispered back, the beauty around her tainted by his insinuations.

He spoke scornfully, as to a wayward student – which she had once been. "Do not dissemble with me. This place is in your very blood. You belong here, Kala Kal-El, as you belong nowhere on Earth."

"I am human, too," she insisted, wrapping her arms around herself.

Dru-Zod went on in that determined tone. "Kryptonian genes predominate within you, even as pure crystal will shatter baser stone. Thus should we dominate humans. They are weak and we are strong."

Kala shook her head sharply. She'd fought this battle with him once already, and it ended with him dead and her on the verge of dying. " _No_. Humans are not weak. And I am not one of 'you'. I am both, I am the daughter of two worlds, Heir to the House of El and Daughter of the House of Lane. I have fought too hard to reconcile my selves to let you sway me. I will not deny _either_ half of my heritage."

"Will you not? You have already done so, 'Kala Lane-Kent'." His voice took on a scornful note as he pronounced her human name, his accent flattening the syllables.

"I have never denied Krypton!" she argued hotly.

He laughed at her, his voice bitter. "You deny yourself every day. How many among your friends and acquaintances know what you truly are? _None_. You lie with every breath. Only the so-called heroes know you are a Kryptonian, and they treat you with genial contempt. They see you, and by extension all our people, as a _joke_. And that is to say nothing of your lovers. Those whom you should trust the most know you the least, save one."

She blushed fiercely, every vulnerability in her psyche struck in rapid succession. "I silenced the rumors; they know I am no mere dabbler. As for my loved ones, they know _who_ I am. It does not matter _what_ I am, not to those close to my heart."

He scoffed. "Foolish child. You say you love them and you hide the truest part of yourself from all of them. You are an _alien_ , you are the Last Daughter of Krypton, you are the child of the man they see as their greatest hero. And not one of them knows the truth! Can you honestly say that those aspects of your nature mean _nothing_ _?_ Because if so, then you are denying Krypton in a much more vital manner: you deny it to yourself."

She had no answer for that, whirling to confront Dru-Zod, but as before, he wasn't there. His voice sounded again, closer. "Perhaps it is time you realized that you truly _are_ making yourself human. You have become an entertainer, a base calling; you display yourself on stage in a manner unbefitting a Kryptonian _commoner,_ much less the noble daughter you are. You consider _that_ your work, while you merely play at your true calling. You are, at best, only a part-time hero. Perhaps you are right. Perhaps you are more human than Kryptonian."

" _No_ ," Kala insisted. "I am both, I always will be both. The balance has not been easy to find, but I am finding it. I find it with every life I save, every evildoer I halt, in Gotham City. I will not deny either half of who I am!"

"Is this so? Then why do you debase yourself with not one, but _two_ human men?" It sounded like he was speaking from about six inches behind her left ear, and Kala whirled again to see only empty air. "One is not enough. The one with whom you might have chaste love—honorable love—is not enough. Him you might have told the truth; you have contemplated it already. But he denies you daily, debauching himself with dozens of others who are not worth the dust upon your boots, and yet when night falls you crave nothing more than his embrace…"

" _SILENCE_ _!_ " Kala roared. "You have no right to speak of Sebast! When you had done your best to twist my mind to your warped plan, to make me your tool, he helped to save my soul and sanity! Speak not of him!"

Outrage in Dru-Zod's tone, the words so close she should have felt his breath on her ear, and the lack of it was unnerving because his voice seemed to come from within her. "Very well, then let us consider the other. Disgraced, a pariah among his own clan, a base murderer, a sometime madman. You know his history, you know how low he has sunk in his life. He has sold his very body, he has drenched himself in the blood of slaughter, and you know that everyone you cherish would draw back in horror if they knew how you desire him. _This_ one, this one you sully yourself with, this one you lie with; you _know_ how broken he is and yet you roll in his filth delightedly and rut with all the eagerness of a bitch lusty for a street-cur to cover her!"

Wrath blossomed like a fire-rose in Kala's heart. "You deceitful, murderous _bastard_ _!_ What right have you! Did you not desire me for your own? Would you not have stood by and permitted Luthor to slay my father and brother so that you could have me? You know _nothing_ of Jason Todd, you know nothing of what he has been through, what he has survived! You _dare_ not accuse him!"

"You know what he is and why you shiver at his touch! He makes you feel _human_ , Kala Kal-El; when you burn beneath him you forget what it is to be the last of your kind! Yet I warn you, the stains he leaves upon your honor are permanent…"

"My honor is unstained! I chose him freely as he chose me, and there is no dishonor in taking a lover! And yes, _I love him!"_ Kala screamed. It hurt to admit it here, when she dared not do so aloud, not to Jay or even to herself. Jay would _run_ , love was an invitation to disaster for him, everyone he'd ever dared to love had betrayed him.

"Then why does no one know what you are to each other?" Dru-Zod shot back. "Least of all the other whom you love—least of all your family?"

She flinched at that; she couldn't help it. "He is mine, mine alone—what we have we need not share with others. He alone I can have for myself. I need not share him with the band or with my family or with anyone else. I have shared everything in my life, _everything_ , even the womb! What Jay and I have is _ours_ _."_ Her voice shook with that revelation. Jay was the one treasure she could cherish all to herself, a delicious secret instead of the painful kind to which she was accustomed.

Dru-Zod's voice dripped disdain. "If you treasure him so, then why do you leave his side and fly back to the bed you share with your other lover?"

"I cannot call Sebast my lover!" Kala snapped in furious denial.

He cut her to the bone yet again. "Mere semantics! You need not exchange bodily fluids to be lovers. And indeed, even _that_ line you have crossed for him. Your desire for him makes you weak—and your indulgence with the other makes you even weaker. You cannot admit to the one that you desire his flesh, or to the other that you wish for more than mere flesh."

His voice lowered, its fierce implacability sending chills down her spine. "You know you cannot continue thus, Kala Kal-El. Everything you know is beginning to crumble, and you stand in the midst of it, trying to capture a shifting castle of sand in your hands. Where is the girl who dared strike me down? What have you become, that you would lie to everyone you know, that you would dishonor yourself twice over, that you would relinquish the legacy of Krypton to your brother while you toy with it in your spare time? _What have you become?_ A liar, a coward, a weakling—a fool!"

Then his voice hissed, "To think you have squandered all you could be for _this_. A handful of paltry achievements more fit to amuse the useless idle rich than a noble daughter of Krypton! You have _wasted_ your birthright!"

She whirled on him then, eyes wide, and for the first time saw him. Dru-Zod, whom she had slain, as he had looked in the moments of his death: his skin ashen, his eyes filmed over white. Kala shrieked in desperate fury, "This is _your_ fault, _you_ did this to me, everything I am, everything I fear, is because I know how close I came to following you down into the abyss!"

His blind eyes were fixed on her, and his implacable voice never wavered. "You will fall into darkness in the end, not because of me, but because of the seed of ruin that was in you from the first. You have always been tainted, you have always held the potential for evil, else I could never have led you as far along the path as I did. You try to keep both halves of yourself separate, yet if you ever truly sunder them, they shall turn upon each other like two beasts in a single cage and between them destroy everything that you love."

He turned into ash, blowing apart in the rising wind, and even as the particles of him struck her skin and stuck there in ghastly grittiness, his voice remained strong. "Had you only followed me, you could have _ruled_ , you could have made right everything that you know is wrong with this world, you could have been my queen! _You could have been Kala Dru-Zod, Empress of Earth!_ "

Kala screamed then, a wordless sound of pure horror, screamed until she thought her lungs would burst, and then drew in breath to scream again. This time there were words, though. " _No! Never!_ _ **Never!**_ _I chose to die instead, and take you with me! It wasn't my fault they saved me instead!_ "

As the world went black around her, she sobbed, "You forgave me, I killed you and you forgave me for it, you _forgave_ me with your last breath… Why are you still haunting me? Dear God, will you _never_ stop haunting me?!"

…

On the whole, Jay slept better with Kala beside him. She was warm and soft, for one thing, and for another, her super-hearing was an extra layer of defense beyond his alarms and tripwires. It was also nice to have someone nearby who didn't need to reach for a gun or a knife to take out an intruder. K was always armed.

Of course, a really tasty meal and some extra exercise before sleep might've had something to do with it, too.

Kala normally slept hard, the fierce vitality in her expression smoothing out into a delicate mask of slumber. It made her look younger than she was, impossibly fragile, something he needed to protect. Sometimes he'd wake and just watch her sleep in a way even he found totally maudlin. The sight of her, blissfully trusting him, looking like some kind of angel, just brought him peace.

Not tonight, though. Tonight she woke him up _screaming_ _._ His first reaction was to reach for his gun, but there were no intruders to fight, just Kala thrashing and kicking and shrieking in some language that Jay _knew_ didn't come from this planet. For a moment he was almost afraid to touch her, afraid he'd make it worse somehow, even as she seemed to wake herself up, rolling into a little ball with her arms wrapped around her knees.

She was still muttering in that strange tongue, and it put his teeth on edge. Rocking back and forth, Kala huddled in on herself, and it sounded like she was sobbing. He had seen tears forced from her eyes by pain and even anger, but not this miserable despair. So _this_ was her own nightmare, the one she skirted around, and he shouldn't have been surprised. She'd had a helluva night before this, being mind-controlled by Ivy and waking up the Empress, and that sort of thing always woke up the bad stuff in his own head. He would've thought the way the evening ended would've taken the sting out of it, but then, he knew this kind of hell didn't let go easily. Jay couldn't leave her caught up in this; he reached for her shoulder, trying to comfort her.

But Kala whirled on him, and he saw those hazel eyes flare red—directed squarely at him. _Aw, fuck, not the face, burn scars look like shit!_ he thought in a panic before she blinked, that deadly glow vanishing. "J-Jay?" she whimpered.

"Yup, still me," he said, making himself sound calmer than he felt, and she flung her arms around his neck, weeping.

Completely nonplussed, Jay held her while she cried, her tears hot against his skin. He'd seen her emotions get overclocked before, but always with anger, and she was magnificent when she was angry. He knew how to ride _that_ out, how to bring back her down safely. This hopelessness was completely unprecedented, though, and he wasn't sure how to comfort her. Nothing he could say would help; 'it's gonna be all right' was a false promise and he knew that too well.

In the end he settled for holding her, rubbing slow circles on her back. If he couldn't give her false promises, he could give her the very real proof that she wasn't alone, that he was right here with her. No matter what she was facing, he'd face it with her. She had done the same for him … and come to think of it, he hadn't seen that scarred leering face in his nightmares since. Jay wasn't fool enough to believe he'd never have that dream again, but he sure liked having it _less_.

After a while Kala sniffled loudly and sat up, looking ashamed, her self-control fragile. "Sorry," she mumbled in a tiny voice, dabbing her eyes with the sleeve of the shirt he'd given her. She couldn't sleep in her uniform, so she always wound up in one of his shirts. "I got you all snotty."

"Snot washes off," Jay said, reaching for tissues and cigarettes. After she'd cleaned up most of it—and he'd never tell her that her mascara was nowhere near waterproof—he lit a smoke for her and handed it over.

"I must look like shit," Kala said shakily, clearly embarrassed. She took a drag off the cigarette mostly to have something to do with her hands, some way to stop them shaking, and that was why he'd pulled them out in the first place.

"Nah, it's not that bad." It really wasn't, all told, her eyes and nose not as swollen as he would've expected after a crying jag. Probably some Kryptonian resistance there. It was just K's expression that looked awful – disheveled, wounded, and far too young. Jay thought he could see the girl she'd been when hell came crashing into her life.

She scoffed; apparently he wasn't as convincing as he thought. "I thought you were supposed to be a good liar."

Jay gave a little shrug. "Well, this look would never make a GQ cover, but I'd still do ya." That actually got a little laugh and a smile, so he figured he was on the right track. Now for the hard part. "You wanna talk about it?"

Kala stared at him for a long moment, and despite that too-young expression, her eyes looked a thousand years old. "Let me ask you something first. Do you ever hear the Joker in the back of your head? Telling you you're worthless, telling you you'll never be good enough, telling you he did you a favor and you were just too stupid to stay dead?"

That hit him like a bullet to the gut, but there was no venom in her voice, just desolation. And Jay knew exactly what she was feeling, to sound like that. "Yeah," was all he could rasp in reply.

She nodded. "I hear Dru-Zod. See, Jay, there's things about me you don't know, even having read the Nevada Protocol."

It seemed like she stalled out on that, so he encouraged her a little. A confession of some kind was coming, and he'd blurted his guts to her. Hell, he'd given her his whole damn file. If she'd stood fast through reading that, then the very least Jay could do was let her tell him what she needed to. And he wasn't in the habit of giving her the least of what he was. So he said firmly, "I know you put him down."

She looked beyond him, her gaze focused somewhere in the past. "It was more than that… Jay, when I was six, Lex Luthor kidnapped me and Jason. He used us as bait to get Mom—he kryptonited us, recorded us screaming, and sent that to Mom's phone. He knew she'd come, even though she was sure it was a trap. Once she heard her kids screaming nothing could keep her away. He wanted her for himself, so he locked her up and then used us to get Dad. He lured Dad to an island he'd made of impure kryptonite, and when Dad would've flown away from it, Luthor showed him the two of us sitting there with our hands zip-tied, helpless. Dad and Luthor fought, and Luthor was winning. He stabbed my father with a kryptonite shiv, Jay. Right in front of me. I saw my father bleeding, unable to stand, and Luthor picked up a chunk of kryptonite to stave his skull in."

Kala paused for another long moment, smoking and thinking. "This probably won't surprise you, but I went for Luthor. Tied up, my ears ringing like someone smacked me in the head with a pair of cymbals, I attacked Luthor. I fucking _bit_ him, as a matter of fact."

"Good for you," Jay said quietly, silently cheering to himself that she'd had the guts to take on that son of a bitch, when the odds had been so clearly stacked against her. No wonder she fit so perfectly at his side. There was just no quit in her.

He had known the island existed and that Big Blue had shoved it into space. That much he'd gathered from news stories later, though it had happened when he was too young to do more than be in awe by Superman. (Jesus fuck, the girl he was working and sleeping with had a father who could lift a budding _continent_.) Bruce had confirmed that some of the kryptonite on the market came from broken-off pieces of that island, but no one had ever mentioned that the _kids_ were on it.

She gave a lopsided grin at his praise. "Yeah, and then Luthor fucking threw me off the side of the island. With my hands tied, remember. You know how cold the ocean is, that far out?" Jay shuddered, and Kala took another long drag off the cigarette, her eyes gone hard in the retelling. "Dad and Jason saved me, obviously, but it took three years to get me into a pool again. And I still won't go out of my depth in the ocean. For years I had nightmares about drowning. Saltwater burns when it goes up your nose, Jay. Stings your eyes, too. And trying to dog-paddle in six-foot waves with your shoes on and your hands tied is pretty fucking ineffective."

Maybe this was what had drawn him to her from the start; Kala had faced evil, too. And she'd just been _six_ , for fuck's sake, just a tiny little thing. Jay hadn't dealt with more than domestic, banal bullshit until he was at least ten or so. Luthor was a whole other class of evil. The kind of person who could send a little kid to her death like that, who'd toss a kid into the ocean like she was a piece of trash … that was just as psychotic as any of the lunatics here in Gotham.

"So yeah," she went on, her voice terribly dry. "You understand why, when I tried to run away from home at sixteen and got my stupid ass kidnapped _again_ , it almost broke my mind to come face to face with Luthor again. Especially since he was doing this Uncle Creepy 'hey you look a lot like your mom' routine. Oh, and I forgot to mention that he had me brought into his underground lab unconscious, so he figured it'd be cool to have a bunch of ex-cons carry me in. I woke up to some big, mean guys groping me and talking about how I shouldn't struggle, that someone might get hurt." Her eyes narrowed at the memory, her lip curling in a snarl. "Apparently gang-rape is Luthor's idea of a welcome party."

"Jesus fucking Christ," Jay managed to say. No wonder she hadn't turned from him. Did anyone even _know_ —? And she said _he_ needed therapy!

"They didn't get away with it," she continued flatly, and that much was a relief to Jay. Just the idea, the threat, was twisted enough, but if that had actually _happened_ … shit, Big Blue would've nuked the fuckers, most likely. "I was still half-drugged, but I fought, and they weren't prepared for my speed. Then one of them took a police baton to me, cracked my wrist, and was about to beat my head in. That's when Dru-Zod showed up."

She'd almost finished the cigarette, and reached for the pack before continuing. Kala rarely smoked more than one at a time, but Jay wouldn't have said a word. He already knew this story wasn't going to have a happy ending. Kala lit up and took a deep drag before she spoke again. "What you have to understand, to get the context of everything that came later, is that Dru-Zod _saved me_. He was Luthor's prisoner, too, not a willing co-conspirator. He saved me from being raped, he saved me from being kryptonited by Luthor, and he saved my _mind_."

"Not that I don't believe you, but it's gotta be a helluva story if that crazy fuck saved your sanity," Jay said when she hesitated.

She nodded slowly. " _I_ was going crazy, Jay. I had a bunch of scientists who wanted to dissect the alien hybrid to see how I worked, a bunch of thugs who couldn't decide if they wanted to beat me up or rape me, and my own personal nightmare hovering around the edges cackling with glee. Underground, with constant lights and no clocks, _no sunlight_ , I couldn't even tell what day it was. Dru-Zod kept me sane. Remember that. He saved me, and next to Luthor, he was a parfit gentle knight."

"Yeah, but a rabid wolverine'd look gentle next to _Luthor,"_ Jay bit out, and she rewarded him with a wan smile.

"This is true. It doesn't diminish the fact that I latched on to Dru-Zod with everything I had. And he wasn't a good guy. He started brainwashing me right away. I can tell, looking back on it, how every single fucking word was scripted to turn me into what he wanted me to be. At the time, I fell for it hook, line, and sinker."

"You were just a kid," Jay told her, knowing that even if that line had never worked on him, he had to at least try. He knew too much about careful manipulation, himself.

"I was sixteen. I should've known better," she countered quickly. "But I've always had this epic princess complex. Fuck, Jay, when I was six I found out I was Superman's kid. 'My daddy is Superman! Wheee! I'm the most special-est there ever was!' God, I was so dumb. Never mind that being Superman's daughter is what made me a target." The snide, biting tone in those words told him a lot about why she hated to be called Princess, even now, and fuck, he could smack himself for ever having done it.

Kala took a deep breath. "Don't get me wrong, I love my father. He's … if I could choose any dad in the world, I'd still choose him. Without question. I'm twenty-three and I'm still daddy's girl, I always will be. But it has its drawbacks, too. "

"I get you," Jay said, because this wasn't what she wanted to tell him. She just felt guilty for not being all sunshine and rainbows about it.

"And anyway, I was arrogant. And good at the Kryptonian stuff. I'd always been better with the language and the history than Jase was, but I never got any of the training he did. Turns out there was a good reason for that—Jase figured out early on that the only way to be sane is to think of ourselves as humans with powers. We were all raised by humans; culturally we're human, biologically we're close enough to interbreed. Sitting around thinking about how we're the last of a dying race is just fucking depressing, and Jase has always known it. His mind is here, on Earth, where his future is. With his human wife and the three-quarters-human kids they're about to have. Only to him it's just his family, just the way he always wanted."

Jay wondered if she knew how wistful she sounded, talking about her brother. Almost as if she understood exactly how he felt about Dick, the love and the hero-worship tainted by the tiny thread of unhappiness. Dick was better than Jay in every way that mattered, and the worst part was, he was too fucking _nice_ to hate.

Kala continued, "It wasn't Dad's fault my head got bigger than all of Kansas. It was mine. Especially at sixteen. I never went through much of an awkward phase—at sixteen I could wrap just about any boy around my finger, and I was fooling around with a college guy because that's where the challenge was."

"Teenage boys are dumbasses," Jay told her. "I know, I was one." And he'd had his own highly inappropriate crush … shit, right around the same time she'd been dealing with this. He'd been eighteen when she was sixteen, learning all the lethal skills, and unable to look Talia in the eyes when she smiled at him. Yeah, he knew about bad adolescent decisions, about getting wrapped up with someone who was too far ahead of you in the game.

"Yeah, Nick grew up to be a doctor. After it all shook out, he stayed around while I got my head together. He was the first, but we both knew it was never gonna last. It shouldn't surprise anyone that Jason met his One True Love in high school when they were both like fourteen, and they hooked up finally at seventeen, and got married at twenty-one. He's gonna be a dad soon, and he's gonna be really good at it. He usually is. While I'm still trying to figure out my life. I've always been the fuck-up."

That just burned it. "You're not a fuck-up, Kala," Jay insisted, feeling like he was gazing into a mirror the more she said. It was really fucking surreal, and he knew already there'd be an ass-load of stuff to think about long after this conversation was over. Right now just her tone was killing him, the way she sounded so much like his own voice inside his head, where he kept all the same self-recrimination and resignation. Had _he_ always sounded so … so _fucked?_ And why the hell did _Kala_ have to have suffered so much to sound that way, too? She, of all people, didn't goddamn deserve it. She was too damn _good_ for all this.

She managed a laugh at his protest. "Yeah, by Bat standards I'm fucking golden, but at home? I'm the black sheep, though they never treat me that way. Jesus, Mom is the only one for Dad—think about that for a second, all the women who throw themselves at him, and it's _only_ Mom." Kala heaved a sigh and ran a hand through her sleep-tumbled hair, taking another long drag off the nearly-gone cigarette. Smoke swirled around her face in clouds that nearly hid the way her lips curled downward. "And here I am with a list of lovers. Poor Dad. I know he's disappointed; he wants me to have what he has, what Jason has, love and happiness and all that other stuff. But I'm not even sure if…"

She cut herself off with a head shake, and Jay knew she was holding back, probably to keep herself from going any further and putting her foot in her mouth in a way she couldn't retract. As if he'd judge her for whatever she was about to admit to, jeez. He was too focused on her to think that what she was afraid to say might've been the same words that bubbled under his conscious mind.

"Anyway, never mind, I'm off on a tangent," she finally went on. "What I meant to say is, Dru-Zod locked on to that part of me that not-so-secretly wanted to be the Princess of Krypton, and he fed it, nurtured it, very carefully. I didn't even realize he was turning me away from everything we stand for. I was only down there for like four days, but by the end of it he had me planning to kill Luthor." Jay couldn't object to that plan. From what he'd heard so far, Luthor needed to catch a bullet or three.

Kala straightened, taking a deep breath. "Of course, in the meantime, Luthor had showed me a newspaper article about how my stepmom had been knifed to death, which was another of his lies by the way. He _did_ send someone to kill her, and she got hurt, but Lana lived. And then he brought me my mother's bloody locket and hung the thing around my neck. Luthor told me he'd killed my mom. But Dru-Zod escaped from the lab and found out Mom was alive. Luthor had shot her, and she was in critical condition, but she was still _alive_. For that, for telling me that, I'd have done anything he asked. That was when we started planning how to kill Luthor."

She laughed bitterly. "What I didn't know was that he was planning to let Luthor kill Jase and Dad, and then kill Luthor himself in front of me. He figured Mom wouldn't make it. Without my family, and owing him a huge blood-debt for having avenged them, I'd have been his. And when I say his, I mean his follower, his soldier." Kala paused, took a long drag off the cigarette. "And his queen. He meant for me to rule by his side when he took over the planet."

"Holy fucking shit, Kala," was all Jay could say. The Nevada Protocol had mentioned mental manipulation, but not _this_. In some ways, nothing he'd ever been through could compare to that. Coming out of a Lazarus Pit completely whacked in the head wasn't even in the same league as being groomed to be the future Evil Overlord's consort. Talia had had him, but he'd been her tool for revenge, nothing more. And he'd been willing, at the time. Both of them were really fucking Bruce over, more than they were fucking each other.

"Yeah. That's what woke me up out of that dream," Kala went on, swallowing on a throat gone dry. "He called me by the name I'd have had if I'd married him. _Kala Dru-Zod_. Kryptonians are kinda patriarchal. He would've made me the mother of his legacy. And the _really_ fucked up thing is, I saw how much sense it made. You can't know … or maybe you can. Ra's al Ghul is always trying to save the world by destroying it. He and Dru-Zod would get along really well. The thing is, if he'd had me by his side, Dru-Zod wouldn't have made the same mistakes that screwed him over the first time."

She inhaled deeply, the cigarette's cherry casting red glimmers over her features. "If Dru-Zod had had his way, you and the boys would be fighting _me_ now. And I'm human enough to figure out how to break you like he never could. You don't do a full-frontal assault with humans, we just get more stubborn. You have to come in on the flank and devastate them, then immediately show mercy. Make things run about the same for the common people, maybe even _better_ , make yourself look better than the old way. I mean, can you imagine Gotham without the corruption, without the street crime? Without the theft and rape and murder and abuse? Wouldn't you praise _anyone_ who achieved that, no matter what means they used?"

"Preaching to the choir, K," Jay said dryly. Of course he'd imagined it. But with a hell of a lot less laser-vision involved. "What do you think I have rocket launchers for? They sure as hell weren't for show. And they got used."

She grinned without a trace of humor. "Maybe you're right. Maybe you would've been on our side. I do know this—Dru-Zod would've destroyed the Joker. He couldn't tolerate a wild card like that under his rule. He would've crisped the Clown from a distance—or no. Jay… "

Kala paused, realization dawning, and slowly shook her head, her voice coming hollow. "Oh, God. With me to advise him, I know exactly what he would've done. He'd have to kill Bruce, and Dick and Tim, and Babs and the girls, because they'd never live under him. They'd fight him to the last breath. But _you,_ you're vengeance with purpose, you kill but you never touch the innocent. He'd want you on his side, and to get you, he'd have let _you_ kill Joker. He'd have had them all killed, not directly, something accidental, casualties of war. With no one else to watch over Gotham, he'd give Joker to you, then give you the cowl, along with official sanction to keep the peace by _whatever_ means necessary." Another long drag off the cigarette, her haunted eyes looking up to him, and Kala added, "If I had been by his side, that's what I would've told him to do."

Jay thought about that, really thought about it, and just shook his head, the full implications hitting him hard. With his family crispy-fried, and no anchor to hold him back … suffice it to say that it wasn't a pretty picture. Sure, he'd wanted to clean up Gotham, would've done it at gunpoint—repeatedly—if he'd had the chance, but without the others there as a counterweight? That level of crazy didn't even bear considering.

And here was Kala, telling him the advice she would've given Emperor Zod. It would've fucking _worked_. He looked at her, and saw tears in her eyes. "God, what kind of monster am I that I can even think this way? Especially about you?" she whispered with a painful kind of horror. "I'm sorry, Jay. This is why I don't think about this shit. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_."

Jay caught her hands. "A _practical_ monster," he said roughly. "Like me, but I know that's not reassuring. Like _Bruce_. Or even Timmy. You think they don't plan around shit like this? Bruce has all those strike files for a reason. Hell, even Babs, she wrote most of the Nevada Protocol after hacking your shrink's computer, that makes her pretty goddamn ruthless, too. We're _all_ monsters, in our own way. Knowing how to break someone, how to use someone, isn't evil, K. Bruce and Babs are masters of that. It's only evil if you actually go through with it. You wouldn't have _done_ it without being brainwashed and trapped, with your whole family dead. So you're not the bad guy, okay?"

"But I _could_ have been. All too easily," she said softly, with feeling, squeezing his hands back. "And you're not a monster, either, Jay."

"The fuck I'm not," he laughed. "You killed one very bad man, I don't even remember how many I killed. They're not all in the file."

"Yeah, but even Talia said it – you've mostly killed people who hurt women and children. You're not a monster. You're a protector." And somehow with the shadowed look in her eyes, that faith in him was even more sincere – and more chilling.

Jay just shook his head, not knowing how to process that. "Gimme a sec," he said after a moment, and got up to go look for a drink. Thankfully there was a fresh bottle of scotch in the kitchen, bought to replace the one they'd polished off when Jay had laid all his own cards on the table, and he brought that back to the bed along with a pair of glasses. "I think you were right the first time," he said with a nod. "You made the whole world safer by killing him."

Her voice was very soft when she answered, "But that's not the whole story, not yet. You see…" Kala trailed off, then took the proffered glass and held it up. "Never have I ever tried to kill myself," she said, and downed the shot.

Looking her right in the eyes, Jay upended his shot as well. No point in going into details, but yeah. Been there, done that, got the bloody t-shirt. Even if most of the scars had long since disappeared.

Kala gave him a wry, pained smile, nodding. "You understand. Out of everyone in the world, you understand. The thing is, I shot Dru-Zod with a kryptonite gun. I knew that firing it would probably kill me, but I was okay with that, because I was taking him with me. And I _did_ kill him, I watched him die, Jay. Radiation isn't a pretty way to go."

Her breath hitched, and her eyes were bright with unshed tears. "Only at the end did he tell me he'd meant for me to rule beside him. He hadn't lied to me about anything, he was just really good at presenting the truth in the light he wanted me to see by. And he was sincerely protective of me, he'd have killed anyone who hurt me, he threatened _Luthor_ and Luthor was carrying kryptonite the whole time. In a sick, fucked-up way I kind of loved him. Admired him, at least, trusted him. Dru-Zod was my savior, Jay, and I murdered him." Shuddering now, she could barely get the words out. "And with his last breath, his literal _last breath_ , he forgave me for it! How the fuck does someone do that, Jay?"

Pouring and drinking another round, Jay scowled. He didn't know, couldn't guess, what Zod's motivation had been. Maybe it was sincere forgiveness. Maybe it was some twisted kind of revenge.

None of it mattered. Jay knew what he had to tell Kala. "You said it yourself; the man was a master manipulator. He did that to fuck with your head. You don't need forgiveness for what you did, K. Because what you did was _right._ You took out the singular biggest threat this world has ever faced. And that's coming from someone that's tangled with Gotham's absolute worst, so you know I mean it. Okay?"

When Kala drew in a quick breath, her eyes looking watery again and her chin just barely trembling, he knew he'd struck the right nerve. "Okay," she whispered back. Still, Jay knew the message hadn't sunk all the way in; he'd just scratched the surface.

"Good," he replied. And what he had to tell her next _had_ to be said, regardless of how much it was gonna sting. "Because you and I both know that that fucking psychopath is gonna haunt you, whether you believe you did right or not. Maybe it'll get at you less and less, if you keep on telling yourself you were right. Maybe the nightmares won't suck so much as time goes on. Or maybe some retroactive target practice therapy is in order to drive the reality home, who the fuck knows, but the point is, you just gotta find a way to make yourself believe it for real, that Zod had to be put down. That you saved the entire fucking planet when you took him out. Because that's all that matters. Got me?"

When he finally paused for a breath, the heat of his speech leaving his chest as he got the words out, his mind already trying to apply them to his own stack of issues, Kala looked as though she'd been transformed. That watery sheen over her eyes was gone, the slight tremble stilled, her shoulders back and chin up. It was one hell of a relief to see, even though he knew she'd just reburied the entire mountain of crap from her past. They'd just have to work on their shit collectively, and later, and fucking often. Small price, he reminded himself. Survivor's guilt still means you _survived_.

"Yeah," she said at last, nodding. "Yeah, I got you."

"All right, then. So…" he nodded in return, pouring them each three fingers of scotch and lifting his glass. "To psychopaths and megalomaniacs. May they all die bloody, and by the hands of those they've wronged."

As far as toasts went, he figured it was passable, but when a corner of Kala's mouth lifted in a tiny smile … well, it might as well have been the sun coming out after a hurricane.

Best sight ever.


	61. Made My Window a Door

It had been harder than usual for Kala to leave the next morning, after having unzipped her nightmares on Jay, but she knew the band was leaving at ten in the morning. But somehow, for once, he'd managed to wake with her alarm and had been determined to make her morning memorable. Even as she rounded the corner to the main entrance to their hotel, having landed in the alley behind, Kala couldn't resist a wicked grin. And he had, so very much. Even then, she'd made it back to the hotel by eight, leaving herself two hours to pack and get ready, which was _extremely_ generous when she had never even completely unpacked. Hell, she could manage a shower in there, too, even if she had stayed late; two hours was more than enough in her case.

"Where the _hell_ were you?!" Derek roared as soon as she got off the elevator. "I've been trying to get the guys to pack your stuff!"

And there went all of the dreamy warmth that Jay had called up in her, plummeting her right back into the defensive armor she seemed to live in here of late. _Goddammit_. "Derek, would you back the fuck up?" Kala spat, unable to fight the resentfulness. Amazing how her good mood could be destroyed so quickly. "I _literally_ just got here, we have two hours 'til we're supposed to leave, I have time to pack everything _and_ eat a healthy goddamn breakfast, so slow your fuckin' roll before I have to call the label and tell them to replace your interfering ass! Nobody touches my stuff but _me_ , so settle the fuck down!"

He reeled from that, eyes widening. She has just as surprised by her speech, but had no time to congratulate herself for just letting it all out before Sebast popped his head out of the room. "Thank fucking God, Kala, I know it's only gonna take you fifteen minutes. Get in here before we all kill him." She glared daggers at Derek and stalked past him to Sebast, who shut the door unceremoniously in their manager's face. Thank God for small fucking favors.

And then he was grabbing her close for an unexpected hug, Kala yipping in surprise. Sebast sighed, and sniffed, and leaned back. "You smell like booze and cigarettes, _querida_."

She took a deep breath. There was no way she shouldn't have seen that coming, with how watchful he'd been of late. Difference was, he meant well. "Yeah, I know … nightmare last night. Unexpected. Enough liquor and nicotine keeps it away. You know that, _Chupi_."

Sebast wrinkled his nose. "I'm sorry I wasn't there. Your nightmares are scary, _mi_ Kala. Half the time you come up speaking in tongues and shit; it's almost enough to make me wanna call Tia Gloria and tell her bring some rum and tobacco for the spirits."

That got her laughing, at least, though with a note of bitterness in it. Her own demons weren't so easy to exorcise, considering that the Empress was part of her. And it gave Kala a chill to realize she'd not only woken up speaking Kryptonese – her eyes had been alight. Thank God she'd never done that in front of Sebast. Just the thought turned her stomach violently. She'd never be able to play _that_ down; God, what would Her Highness make of Sebast? She didn't want to even contemplate that one, Kala thought with a shudder.

It did mean the Empress was closer to the surface around Jay, and the knowledge sent a shiver down her spine. He was proving himself capable of rolling with whatever madness she threw at him, but that particular flavor of crazy wasn't one Kala liked to show to _anyone_. There was no telling how far she would let Jay push her and Kala did not want to know her limit.

Kala hugged Sebast back, dragging her mind away from the darkness. He'd been there for almost every one of her night terrors; Sebast deserved to have her full attention in this. Guiltily, she remembered the words that Dru-Zod had spoken about their connection, but refused to pursue it any further. She would happily take the comfort, as she always had. "You're never _not_ there for me, Sebast. I'll be fine, it's just the stress."

He managed a smile, but it was thoughtful. "If it's that bad, maybe we _should_ fire Derek, then."

That brought on a heartfelt sigh, Kala leaning into him as she considered it. Considered it as if she hadn't thought about it so many times in the last month. It really did seem like as soon as one side of her life evened out, the other had it in for her. "Yeah, but realistically, that's a _lot_ of drama to kick up. We'd have to threaten to renege on our contracts. And the label would be _really_ pissed. Do we really want to stick our heads in the lion's mouth already? Let's just survive the rest of the tour, and the next one we'll put in a personality conflict clause or something."

"Fine, we'll be sensible about it. And if he keeps being such a jackass, we'll throw it back at him until he quits," Sebast said threateningly. "I know I can be a bigger asshole, if I just release my full potential. And _you_ can certainly call upon your mother's legacy as Head Bitch in Charge."

"Sounds like a plan," Kala replied with a small smile. It would be okay, it had to be. They were already seven stops in; moving toward mid-point. They just had to get through this, and everything would be all right. It _would_ be. It _had_ to be. "I'd threaten to tell Mom you said that, but we both know she's proud of it. Come on, let's get packed before Derek has a goddamn aneurysm."

"We should be so lucky," Sebast said darkly.

…

Kala had to leave early the next morning – she wasn't on stage again, but the band had to roll out for their next tour stop. Neither of them liked it, but what could you do? Once she headed out, though with an _excellent_ send-off and the laughing reminder from her that he _still_ owed her that diner date, Jay decided to drag himself over to the Manor for breakfast, checking for hickies first. He knew he was a little distracted by everything she'd said last night, and that wasn't a detail he could afford to miss if they wanted to keep things to themselves for a while.

He got there while Bruce was still in bed, but Dick had stayed over. He and Tim were talking about last night's disappointment while they ate. "Harley will find her way back to Joker eventually," Dick was saying as he cut into his pancakes. "She always does. And then, we'll get all three of them."

"Too bad she's too slick to listen to a therapist and actually fucking dump his ass," Jay said as he walked in. "Morning, Alfred!"

"Good morning, Master Jason, I took the liberty of preparing breakfast for you as well," Alfred replied from the kitchen. "Do sit down, I shall bring in the coffee directly."

"Thank you, Alfred," Jay called back with a grin.

Tim just scowled at him. "Harley needs more than therapy. And since when do _you_ suggest going that route?"

Jay shrugged, aware of Dick's eyes on him. Really, he couldn't help a little comparison. Kala had been brainwashed, she still had lingering issues from Luthor and Zod, but he had no doubts that if she were confronted by a similar situation, she'd kick the crap out of whoever tried to control her. Fear didn't make her recoil, it made her push forward, a lot like him. Meanwhile Harley went running back to Joker no matter how many times he put her in the hospital. Some of that was time, Joker had had a lot more opportunities to play around with Harley's mind. Some of it was that Kala had actually had a decent support system, a family who loved her, at least one parent who'd shoot a villain in the head, and yeah, some professional help.

He wasn't going to say any of that, though, because the next thing you knew these assholes would want _him_ to go talk to a shrink. And Jay could just see how that shit would start. 'Hey doc, ever since I came back from the dead it's like not all of my mind functions like it's supposed to. Training as an assassin and learning to kill people in lots of ways didn't help. Now sometimes I feel like I could go out and collect eight heads just to make a point, and the only thing that'd worry me would be whether I'd dull my knife getting through the spines, but sometimes I look at my girlfriend with the sunlight in her hair and I just turn into mush because she's beautiful and she's good and for some dumbass reason she believes in _me_. Way more than I believe in myself, and if someone like her sees something worthwhile in me, maybe she's right and maybe there's something worth saving in here.'

Yeah, no, fuck _that_. "Desperate times, desperate measures, Timbo. If she hadn't _been_ a shrink it might do her some good, but she knows all the tricks. Personally I'm just hoping that one day Ivy'll convince her to slaughter the fucker. Saves me the trouble."

And there it was, the two of them pausing and looking worriedly at him as Alfred came out with a mug of coffee and a plate of piping hot pancakes. Jay thanked him, and then continued with a roll of his eyes. "Guys. He fucking _murdered_ me, or as close as makes no fucking difference. Come on. I am not gonna get over that just because you let me in the house and feed me, for fuck's sake. Just be glad I'm not actively hunting him down."

Dick caught him a steady glare; it was easy to forget, as nice and as friendly as Dickie-Bird often was, that he wouldn't back down from stuff he thought needed to be addressed. "Look, Jay, you can't blame us for worrying whenever you talk about this kinda stuff. We _just_ got you back. I'm not losing you again."

"Yeah, I hear you," Jay muttered, his shoulders tensing. Reminders that he had a family here, that they actually _liked_ him despite the blood on his hands, just made him uncomfortable.

He was saved by the bell, or more accurately the buzz, his phone going off. Jay took it out thinking it might be Kala; she was about the only person who had this number who wasn't in the house. Or Babs, but Babs had everyone's number, there was no sense trying to avoid Big Sister.

Instead it was an international number, and that almost _had_ to be a random wrong number. Jay frowned at it, and decided what the hell, he'd answer. "Sorry, D, gotta take this," he quipped.

And then his puckish humor leapt to the fore as he connected the call. He'd read an article the other day that just seemed ridiculous, and decided it'd be a good prank answer. "Guten Morgen!" he said cheerfully, and continued in German, "Stolen Lager Brewery, we take beer … _seriously_."

Okay, fine, Kala was right to call him Robin, because making stupid puns over something like stolen barrels from prestigious breweries being filled with cheap swill and resold, that was … very Robin. But hell, whoever was calling probably didn't even speak German, the joke was wasted on everyone except Jay, and it made _him_ laugh. Which was what he needed with Dickie-Bird being all serious. Jay took a big sip of coffee, waiting for the inevitable consternation and hang up.

Instead, the reply was in the same language. "Your accent is still terrible," Talia said, and Jay was so taken aback he ended up spitting his coffee.

Tim, who was unfortunately in the splash zone, yelped in disgust and jumped up, swiping at his face. "What the _hell_ , Jay?!" Dick frowned and got up to help him, scowling at Jay.

He was barely paying attention to them. "How the actual fuck did you get this number?" Jay demanded, then shook his head. She wouldn't tell him the truth, but it boiled down to having more money than God and plenty of contacts on the villainous side, and this was her little way of letting him know she was still keeping track.

He should've shot her. Maybe not fatally, but still.

Jay scoffed. "Never mind, I don't wanna know. Good morning, Talia, how's Paris this time of year?" He said her name to let the other two know who was calling, and got the response he expected. Dick dropped the napkin, and he and Tim both stared at Jay.

Meanwhile Talia answered, sounding amused, "Unseasonably warm, but it should cool down by Fashion Week. I trust Wayne Enterprises' agent made his way home safely despite his regrettable fondness for controlled substances?"

"Oh come on, don't bullshit me," Jay groused. Both of his brothers had sat back down, watching him intently, but he couldn't pay attention to them right now. Talia wouldn't call unless she wanted something, and he needed to figure out what that was. "He still hasn't figured out who planted the drugs on him, but we all know it was you. Hey, how's _your_ guy? The one who got called away on a family emergency? Did he make it home safe?"

"I'm afraid we do not tolerate disloyalty in our organization," Talia said casually. "He is no longer one of ours, and as such, where he is and what he does is no concern of mine."

"So you _did_ kill him," Jay replied. "I'd say good technique, since no one in Paris seems to have figured out that he's even dead yet, but you've had plenty of practice. Also, the royal 'we' is goddamn freaky, unless you're referring to you and dear old Dad."

Dick whispered, "I'm amazed she hasn't tried to kill _you_."

Jay bit back his reply, but Talia just chuckled. "I did not call to speak of Guyot-Perrin."

"No, for that you woulda called Bruce," he said, trying to hold on to his stomach and glad he hadn't dug in to the pancakes yet. Hearing from Talia in any way made him antsy these days; she knew too much, and finally he had something in his life worth protecting. "So what's up? You just called for old times' sake?"

A pause, and she answered very quietly, almost as if she knew there were other people in the room on his end of the call. Which, hell, she just might. "Given the manner of your leaving, I rather thought such reminiscing would be ill-received."

"You'd be right," he said, his voice tense and tight. "You got lazy, and I saw your password. I copied my file."

"Trusting, not lazy," Talia said just as sharply. "I suppose I ought to thank you for reinforcing the lesson that _no one_ can be trusted outside my direct line of sight."

Jay couldn't believe she had the gall to be pissed at _him_ , and he growled, "I'm nobody's fucking _science fair project_ , T. You should've known better."

She swore under her breath at that, and Jay bared his teeth in a vicious smile. Rattling her precious poise definitely counted as a victory. Talia mastered her temper to ask, "Just whose eyes do you think that file was written for, Jason?"

"Shit, just yours, I hope," he scoffed. "Unless you really _did_ have me written up for a seminar somewhere. Mitigating negative side effects in resurrected sidekicks, first in a serious of 'oh shit, I fucked up' lectures."

She gave a short laugh, at his tone, he supposed. "I _hoped_ no one save myself would see that file, but I _planned_ for exigencies. As I always do."

Jay blinked. Was she saying the whole Dr. Frankenstein tone of the file was something she'd set up in case it was discovered? By who? But he knew the answer: Ra's, of course. Jay felt a chill up his spine at that.

Instead of questioning it further, he just told her, "You should've planned for _me_ to find it, eventually. I thought _really seriously_ about killing you."

She paused for a freighted second before laughing, this time at _him_. "How fortunate for you that you never tried it," Talia said, in a voice full of threat. "Do you really think I taught you _everything_ I know?"

"Nope, but I never stopped learning, so it's a good thing we're not interested in killing each other now," Jay said, oddly relieved. He was much more comfortable with Talia being the dangerous and deadly assassin everyone knew she was, and not the woman he'd once thought he'd known.

The silence went on just a beat too long before she continued more evenly, "I did not, in fact, call to rehash old business. This is something new, but of interest to you specifically. You _were_ the one who intercepted Black Mask's last large shipment of kryptonite."

"I was trying to push him into a war, and I stole _all_ his shit," Jay said, at first glad to be off the topic of _them_ … and then realizing that oh, fuck, if they were talking kryptonite then Kala might be in danger. Every instinct he had went to red alert then. "What makes you think I care about kryptonite now?" If she had any idea, if she knew he was currently seeing a Super, shit if she even knew Superman's daughter was _in_ Gotham, he was in _deep_ trouble.

Talia sighed. "Superboy does visit your city, and he is on friendly terms with Drake and Grayson. Surely you would be motivated to protect your brothers' friend. And if you would deny such noble motives, then thwarting Sionis ought to be reason enough to stop him from buying more."

"Yeah, all right, no one needs that shit, especially not a psycho like Mask," Jay said with a shrug. He glanced up to check on his brothers; Dick's eyes were bugging out, but at least he and Tim were keeping quiet and letting him play this one. "Wait, his ass is in jail, his accounts are frozen, and I wiped out his ready cash when we locked him up last time. How the fuck is he buying k?"

"Men like Sionis will always find a way to finance what they believe they need," Talia said, with disdain dripping from every syllable. "If you are still concerned with large quantities of kryptonite moving into Gotham, then I have information of value to you."

"Shit, what we _really_ need to do is bust Luthor and take away his supply. Then we wouldn't need to worry about stopping it from coming in," Jay said, rubbing his temples. He didn't want to seem _too_ eager for the information she claimed to have.

"Sionis was not buying from Luthor this time. It seems Luthor has increased his prices prohibitively. Bold of him, considering the kryptonite he's selling is diminishing in potency. Still, Luthor _is_ primarily concerned with profit." She spoke with dry contempt.

"Says probably the richest woman on the planet," Jay pointed out. "If Mask's not buying from Luthor, who's the supplier? Your Pops? He's the only other one with enough of the stuff to be on the radar as a seller, but last I checked your strategy is buy and hold."

"Sionis negotiated with me, not my father," Talia told him.

"So _you're_ selling kryptonite now," Jay said, and tried to keep the growl out of his voice. She didn't need to have the slightest hint of how personal this was to him. "What, you need to raise money to buy a new jet or something?"

"I am by no means in the trade; Sionis contacted me," Talia replied. "He knows as you do that we have it, and I suppose he thought I would be willing to sell to such as him. Unfortunately for him, and fortunately for you, I have no particular desire to see him resell kryptonite of this purity in Gotham, which he will undoubtedly attempt to do in order to recoup some of the cost of buying three kilos at my prices. I will tell you _when_ the shipment is arriving; you and the rest ought to be able to work out _where_."

"Wow, you _really_ don't like Roman, do you?" Jay laughed. "Okay, fine, I suppose I'll ignore the fact that you're fucking _selling kryptonite_ in the first place, no matter who called who first, since you're helping us stop it from hitting the street. Of course, if you really wanted to convince me you're on the side of the angels, you'll tell me exactly where you're dropping it off."

"And deprive all of you of the opportunity to exercise your vaunted detective skills?" Talia said archly. "I think not. I do not wish to make it _obvious_ that I betrayed Roman – if he is going to continue trying to buy large quantities of kryptonite, I would prefer that he approach me instead of Luthor."

"Yeah, 'cause you're all about regulating the trade in kryptonite for the safety of Kryptonians in general," Jay scoffed. "Have you even met Big Blue? Maybe on a double-date with Bruce or something?"

"If his people had taken better care of their world, he would not now be among us," Talia pointed out. "Were he not so sentimental, he might side with Father to prevent another such cataclysm. No, Jason, we keep kryptonite strictly for _insurance_ against him, or others like him. It has been many years since other Kryptonians came to Earth, but if three survived, more could have."

And given what he'd talked about with Kala in the middle of last night, that put the hair up on the back of Jay's neck. The absolute last goddamn thing they all needed was another Kryptonian like General Zod – and Talia probably didn't even know _that_ asshole had lived longer than the world thought. For a moment, he considered telling her that Zod had faked his death and been Luthor's pawn … but then he'd have to explain how he knew, and that was a whole other can of worms he didn't want to open. "All right, fine. Tell me when the kryptonite's coming in. And just for fun, tell me why you didn't call the house line with this intel?"

Tim slid him a notepad, and she gave him the date and time, pointedly _not_ answering his other question. Jay looked up, wondering if there was any point in needling her further … and saw Bruce standing in the doorway.

Well, hell. "Oh, hey, look who finally woke up. Talia, you wanna say hi to Bruce while you're on the line?"

"You may give him my regards," she replied smoothly. And apparently talking to him with Bruce in the room was just as awkward for her as for it was for him, because she cut the connection after those words. Jay snorted laughter at that.

Bruce just stared at him, so he took pity and clued the Bat in. "Good morning! I dropped in for breakfast, and Talia dropped some news on us. Black Mask just bought three kilos of kryptonite from her, and she _really_ hates his ass, because she told us when it's coming in. Also, I don't know what you did to piss her off, but I bet it starts with 'C' and rhymes with 'Atwoman'."

He didn't dignify that with a response. "How long have you had her number?"

Jay rolled his eyes. "Jesus fuck on a motorcycle, Bruce. I don't _have_ her number, and I didn't know she had _mine_ until she called. I asked her why she called me and not the house, but she didn't answer. Even odds she figures I don't have call tracing on my phone, or she just wanted me to know she can find my number. Or both, it could always be both."

Bruce looked at the dropoff time, frowning. "Give me a copy of that, I want to run it through the Bat-computer. And send it to Barbara, too. We may as well work it from multiple angles."

Tim stared at them. "So we're going to assume this is legit and she's actually double-crossing Mask? Also, what's this about a file?"

Jay shrugged. "She has all my information going back to my grade-school report cards. I was pissed. As why she'd screw over Sionis, I told you guys, he's a class traitor. Talia's half high-class pretension and half murder, so she can't stand him. It's like none of you ever pay attention. Besides, dangerous as she is, she wouldn't set us up without a _really_ good motive. She gave us the info on Mask's financials, remember, and it was legit."

"Great, so we're trusting Talia now," Dick said with an aggrieved sigh.

"Not entirely," Bruce said. "I haven't forgotten that she had multiple opportunities to tell me she was training and financing you, Jason. She never did."

He rolled his eyes at that. "Because I was still planning to _kill your ass_ and she was trying to stop me. And yes, that's logic only an al Ghul could follow, teach a guy to be a better killer so he won't kill someone. Besides, Bruce, you can sound all nobly pissed if you want, but it didn't keep you out of Talia's bed when she was in Gotham last."

Oh, _shit_ , he'd forgotten the other two didn't know that, as Tim and Dick both sat bolt upright and stared. And okay, he was probably overcompensating for his own guilt at what he knew that none of them did, because even Bruce was looking speculatively at him.

"How the hell could you possibly know that?" Dick asked, perplexed.

"Because we're supposed to be fucking _detectives_ , Dickie-Bird, detect something once in a while!" Jay shot back. "Bruce walked by me when he finally rolled in that night, and he smelled like amber. Selina wears vanilla and some kind of mint. Either he decided to tempt fate and roll in the hay with some rando who wears the same exact _custom_ scent, or Selina had a reason to be pissed when she brought us the jump drive the next morning."

"And how exactly do you recognize Talia's perfume from a secondhand whiff?" Tim asked, frowning.

Shit, shit, _shit_ , Jay tried to play it cool, rolling his eyes. "Same way I know she drinks her coffee black with sugar, or that she always has a weapon within arm's reach, or that all her cars are manual. Talia financed me and arranged all my 'dark arts' training for _years_ , guys. Not to mention when I wasn't in my right mind, I fucking _lived_ with her and Ra's. I know how these people work."

"It's amber, clove, and persimmon," Bruce finally said. "Selina's perfume is custom, too – she wears vanilla and catnip. It's in the mint family, easily mistaken. The custom blends tend to last longer than many store-bought perfumes."

Jay just stared at him with his eyes widening. He wasn't denying it… Was he _really_ that dumb? "Jesus fuck, Bruce, did you hit both of them in the same night? It's a wonder they haven't killed you, it really is. Or each other."

Bruce just arched a brow at him. "Are _you_ trying to give _me_ relationship advice?"

That got Dick laughing. "Yeah, you kinda can't talk, Jay. At least you and K are working together again."

But something about Bruce's expression when Dick said it made Jay clamp down on his reaction to that. _Shit, does he know about me and K? And if he does, why hasn't her father shown up to punch me into orbit?_ For the moment, he decided to play dumb and hunker down over his breakfast. "Whatever, we have a lead, and a few days to stop the kryptonite from coming in. I'd change my number but it's not like it'd stop her from finding the new one if she wanted to." _Besides,_ _ **K**_ _has this number._

…

They settled onto the bus a little early, despite Derek having vapors about it. The manager went up to talk to the driver, while Sebast flopped down in the loft. Kala got herself a bottled water and drank it down, swaying unconsciously with the turns, and then she came up to join him.

He wasn't sure what to say to her about the past two days. Kala was keeping everything locked down, which was _really_ weird for her. Normally he could see her emotional weather rolling in from miles away, like thunderstorms over the Kansas plains where her dad was from. But lately she'd been more like the mountains her family visited on vacation, where it could be breezy and cool one minute, and then a cold front might crest the ridge and drop the temperature twenty degrees the next.

So Sebast said nothing, which was becoming his own favorite unhealthy coping mechanism lately. He wasn't even giving a voice to the disquieting thoughts in his own mind. With all of Derek's bullshit and the tour schedule stress, it was best to just suck it up, say nothing, and deal with whatever was going on between him and Kala later.

Like maybe next year. Or when they turned thirty. Thirty would be good.

He made room for her in the loft, slipped an arm around her waist as she snuggled down beside him, and tried not to think about anything except the fact that they were living the dream. Back in high school they'd both talked about becoming singers and having a band and touring the country, and they were doing that, right? Everything had to be okay, they'd made it, despite steep odds they were successful. Anyone in the vocal department at Stalmaster would've _killed_ to be where he was right now, so Sebast had no right to complain.

They'd been on the road for almost an hour when Robb suddenly ran up to the front of the bus. "We gotta go back to the hotel!" he yelped.

Kala poked her head out of the loft, scowling, and Sebast did the same beside her. Derek stared at Robb like he'd grown another head. "We're barely on schedule as it is," the manager snapped. "And now you want to turn around? What's wrong with you?!"

"I forgot something," Robb replied. "You were rushing us too much, and yelling at Kala, so it's _your_ fault I forgot."

"It's not _my_ fault none of you know what a deadline is," Derek shot back. "No, we're not going back, we can call the hotel and have them mail it to our next stop, whatever it is."

Robb scowled. "That's not gonna work. I left my phone charger and my phone's about to die. We need to go get it now!"

Before Derek could answer, Kala spoke up. "Robb, we can buy a charging cord when we stop for gas. It'll be fine."

"No, this is my ten-foot cord and the actual charger, too," he explained, looking up at her nervously. "I need it so I can charge my phone in bed even if I roll over."

"Just leave it on the nightstand like everyone else," Derek said with a frown.

"That won't work. I talk to her every night until I fall asleep, I need the longer cord," Robb protested. "And my phone's gonna die before we stop for gas, we gotta turn around."

Sebast plucked his own charger from the power port on the wall and held it out to Robb. "Here, borrow mine until we stop, and we'll buy another charger somewhere."

He took it gratefully, but Kala had propped herself up on her elbows and was staring at him worriedly. "Robb, who are you talking to, anyway?" she asked.

The bassist blushed, and Ned helpfully called out, "His girlfriend!" from the back.

Robb whirled on him. "Shut up!"

Sebast scrubbed a hand over his face. More drama was _just_ what they all needed right now. "So who's the lucky girl?" he asked.

To his surprise, Robb glowered at him. The bassist was normally on the shy side, playing backup to stronger and bolder personalities in the band, and this was the first time Sebast could recall seeing him really angry. "You guys always pick on me," he complained. "What's so weird about me having a girlfriend, huh? You think just 'cause I'm fat no woman's ever gonna look at me?"

"Whoa, whoa, everybody take a step back," Kala said then. "First of all, Robb, you're not that fat. And even if you were, nobody cares what you weigh except you and your doctor, okay? We only care about how you play, and whether or not you're happy, because contrary to popular belief artists don't have to be miserable and depressed to do our thing. You're a good guy, any woman would be lucky to have you."

Robb blinked, evidently not expecting support from that quarter, but Kala went on. "What _does_ worry me is that you're talking to some girl, and none of us have seen her or even know her name, but you're on with her enough that you need a ten-foot phone cord and leaving it behind is major freakout. Robb, how do you know her, anyway?"

He glowered at her and retorted, "How did _you_ know the guy you went home with, night before last? And last night too, unless that was a different guy."

Sebast felt Kala recoil at that, and then she spoke through gritted teeth. "Okay, _look_. I am a grown-ass woman, goddammit, and none of you are my brother or my dad. And I'd tell my brother the same thing I'm telling you – I wouldn't have to tell my _dad_ , because he knows I'm an adult and he's not that nosy. I can sleep with _whoever_ I want, _whenever_ I want. I'm only worried about _you_ because you're spending all this time on the phone with someone we've never met."

Robb crossed his arms and stared. "Yeah, and we've known you for _years_ and you never picked up a groupie. I've _met_ your brother and your dad, and Sebast's known you since school, and you don't _do_ one-night stands. All of us know _that_. So maybe we have a right to be worried, too."

Sebast kept his mouth shut, because anything he could say would make it worse or cause Kala to go off on him. She was close enough that he felt her draw in breath to just lambaste Robb … and then she let it out in a gusty sigh, instead. "Look, he's someone I met in Gotham over the summer, okay?"

"I knew it!" Sebast crowed, seizing on those words. "Have you been banging Dick Grayson all this time, you lucky bitch? Bring him the fuck home and share!"

Kala smacked his shoulder. "Oh, for God's sake, Sebast, knock it off! You _saw_ him at the arena, dumbass, that wasn't Dick! If you really have to know, he was the guy from the bad side of town who helped me work on my self-defense, all right? I didn't sleep with a total stranger, but I wasn't sleeping with him over the summer, either."

Sebast rubbed his shoulder and grimaced. At least he knew a little bit more about the summer, now. "All right, forgive me, _querida_. I've been jealous of you being that close to Grayson since you said you were going to Gotham."

"He doesn't even live there anymore," she groaned, rolling her eyes. "I didn't expect him to stay at Wayne Manor for the summer, but it was a nice surprise. And despite the fact that we both were really thinking it at least once,especially in the limo the first day, we both decided it wasn't a good idea. We're still friends, but that is _not_ happening."

Sebast's jaw dropped, Robb made an undignified squeaking noise, and Ned and Morgan both sat up at _that_ revelation. Derek rolled his eyes so hard Sebast was surprised they didn't fall out, but he was too busy staring at Kala. "You had a shot at that and _passed_?" he finally exclaimed. "Dammit, woman, I told you I shoulda come to Gotham with you! You coulda rode up front with the driver and I woulda sucked his soul out through his dick!"

Kala just stared at him. "Sebast! Do you _have_ to be sub-human?"

"What? I would," he shot back.

"I _know_!" she said, half mournfully and half laughing. "God, you're incorrigible! Anyway, Robb, since now the _whole bus_ knows I banged my martial arts trainer last night, thank you for that by the way. Who's your girlfriend?"

He sighed, and dropped into the seat by the window, still looking up at her and Sebast in the loft. "Jennifer Jinwright," he finally said, looking miserable.

Sebast arched an eyebrow. "Should I know that name?"

Robb sighed again, and covered his face. "No. And you wouldn't know her stage name, either. But she goes by Jenny Jiggles."

Kala was as nonplussed as Sebast, but Morgan made a strangled noise and Ned yelped, "Jenny Jiggles the _porn star?!_ "

"They call it 'adult performer' now," Robb shot back, and that was it, Sebast was done. He tried not to laugh out loud, because he didn't want Robb to think he was laughing at him … even if he kind of was, a little bit. He wheezed and held his sides while Kala kicked his shins repeatedly.

"Ha ha, real funny," Robb said morosely. "No one thinks a guy like me can get a girl like her. Laugh it up."

"It's not that," Sebast managed to say between snickers. "It's the way you said 'adult performer'. Dude, you're like a vegan saying 'it's not _salad_ , it's a mix of organic spring herbs and baby lettuces'. Rose by any other name, Robb."

Kala sighed heavily. "Okay. Robb, how'd you meet her?"

"How'd you meet your martial arts guy?" he countered.

She narrowed her eyes at him, but Sebast was just glad he wasn't the one asking questions. "The Waynes do charity stuff down in the Bowery, the worst side of Gotham. He's one of their connections down there. Long story short, he tried to tell me I was too soft and pretty to be running around down there, and I broke his fucking nose. Pretty sure that's not how you met Jenny."

"Jesus Christ," Derek interrupted. "You broke someone's _nose_? You _do_ realize he could prosecute for that, right?"

Kala looked at him like he was something she needed to scrape off her boot. "For fuck's sake! I doubt he's gonna sue, since we _slept together_ and all. Also pretty sure he cracked some of my ribs in training, but that happens. Not the first time I got hurt sparring, won't be the last."

"What is _wrong_ with you?" Derek whispered, staring at her in increasing horror. "I used to hate working with those female leads who're all hung up on their wardrobes and having catfights on Twitter with other singers, but you… You're out there breaking guys' noses and threatening to kick _my_ ass and God knows whatever else you're doing."

"Subvert the stereotype, bitch," Kala spat, and Sebast gave her a quick high-five. She turned back to Robb then, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

"I met her online," he began, and held both hands out. "Wait, shut up, I know how it sounds, let me finish. I follow her official Twitter account, okay, and she has like three hundred thousand followers. Some trolls started saying some nasty shit and I reported them, but the assholes doxxed her real account first, so I sent her a message there saying she might want to change it or shut it down since it was posted on 4chan and Reddit and everywhere else. And she thanked me, and that was it for a while, until I got a Facebook request from an account with her same real name, and she said she liked the band."

"Great," Derek muttered. "Just the kind of fan we want."

"Shut up," Kala said. "It's legal and it's not an easy job. And we can't talk shit about porn stars when the cover of the last album has me in a corset and Sebast with his shirt off."

Encouraged, Robb sat up a little straighter. "Anyway we started talking about Twitter and creating a brand and stage fright and how the industry – both our industries – are changing because of social media. I mean, almost all porn stars are on Twitter now, that's how they build a fan base, and it's how people like Kayden Kross and Misty Mundae are transferring across to mainstream stuff. Because you can't do porn forever, you gotta have a backup plan, and Jennifer went back to college for media relations. She's planning to handle other celebrities' accounts as a full-time job, and use her own as a reference basically."

Sebast exchanged glances with Morgan and Ned; once they'd finally gotten Robb talking about this girl, he was more animated and excited than they'd ever seen him about anything that wasn't music. He continued, "So we started talking regularly and she added me on her new personal Twitter, and we just … became friends, you know? One time she messed up and DM'd me from her stage Twitter so I gave her my number, and now we mostly just text. Like she follows our tour schedule and she always sends me a message saying 'break a leg' right before showtime and asks how it went afterward, and I always ask her how her shoot's gone and tell her not to freak out when they're doing public appearances and stuff. She's actually really shy about doing that stuff, like the AVN Awards."

Ned broke in then. "Um, how is a _porn star_ shy about anything?"

"It's different, man," Robb protested. "That's just _work_. None of us care about shooting the music videos anymore even if a guy with a camera is hanging over my shoulder and breathing down my neck. That's just doing our job, with a few extra people around. But awards shows and shit, that's like the after-show meet-and-greets, and I _hate_ those because I don't want our fans to realize I'm just a weird nerd who's good on the bass."

"Robb," Kala said softly, and when he looked at her she continued, "we're _all_ just weird nerds who are good at our instruments. The fans might not realize that, but it won't hurt them to find out that we're real people, too. I mean, they might get mad at first, because they put us all on pedestals, but at the end of the day we're not any different from anyone else. And if you think you're the weirdest, nerdiest person in this band, someday I'll show you the report I did in middle school that was basically just five pages of me explaining why I should be allowed to own a meerkat."

He chuckled a little at that, and Sebast spoke up. "You're cool, Robb. I am the coolest motherfucker on this bus, and I say so, therefore you're good, all right? But that said … damn, I don't even wanna say this. I can't even tell you how much I love seeing you all happy and bouncy and shit, and you _deserve_ to be happy. But … if you've only ever talked to her online, are you sure she's really Jennifer and not her publicist?"

"Video chat," Robb said dryly. "Yeah I know, I thought she was catfishing me at first. And she thought I was just trying to play the 'nice guy' card, waiting for me to start sending dick pics like a creeper. But it's not like that. I really like her as a person. She likes me, too. When we get back out to California, Jennifer and I are gonna meet up for lunch, and see how it goes from there."

Ned laughed, but not cruelly. "Dude, you talk to her for literally hours every day. It's gonna go just fine. Just let me know so I don't come back to the hotel for like, two days."

"You can't date a porn star," Derek said, and all of them swiveled their heads to stare at him. "She's a _porn star_ , that's not the image we're going for her, and why would you want to, anyway? Literally hundreds of people have slept with this girl, and thousands have seen her naked."

Kala took a deep, deep breath, but her voice came out level and strained. "Derek. Shut the actual fuck up, right now. _Right. Fucking. Now._ Before I come down there and kick your ass out the door while we're doing seventy miles an hour. Robb can date whoever the _fuck_ he wants to date. We're not some teen-pop band; why the hell should the label care who Robb sees on his own time? Don't you fucking _dare_ shame him, or her. It's just a goddamn _job_ , you sanctimonious prick."

Sebast wondered where the hell that venom was coming from. Kala was pretty laissez-faire about a lot of things, but he'd never heard her defend porn so vigorously. Maybe it was just Derek being an asshole, as usual. Or maybe it was that Robb finally met a girl he was halfway serious about.

He chimed in before Derek could think of replying. "Dude, we sell our voices. And we shake our asses onstage at these concerts. There's not really _that_ much difference in what she's doing, so back the fuck off."

"You people are impossible," Derek muttered.

"Fucking get laid when we stop for the night," Kala spat. "You need the attitude adjustment. Robb, tell Jennifer your band wants to meet her, too. If you get serious with her, she might end up coming on tour with us someday."

Robb stared at her in amazement. "You'd be okay with that?"

Kala just shrugged. "Why not? We brought Dustin along, and you guys were cool with him."

Ned chuckled again. "Dustin can come hang with us anytime. He's cool. It was worth it to do a Goth version of that 'Gunpowder and Lead' song he said was written about your mom."

"Maybe when we're close to Kansas, I'll call him up," Kala laughed.

Sebast smirked. "Is he seeing anybody?"

She glared at him. "Hey! I meant call him up as a _friend_ , you jerk. And yes, according to Jason he _is_ seeing somebody, and no, it's not the bitch from Possum Trot that I ran out of his apartment last year."

All the boys burst out laughing, Morgan managing to say, "Who needs enemies with an ex-girlfriend like you!"

"She was just using him for money, _most_ of which was going to straight to her wardrobe," Kala growled. "She's one of those girls who like to get someone else to pay for _everything_. Pretty, she acts sweet, but she's run up all her credit cards and Daddy cut her off, so she needed someone to take care of her."

"Oh, man, those are the _worst,_ " Morgan groaned. "I dated a girl like that. I paid for dates, but then she'd ask me to pay her light bill or her car note. I'm not rich enough to be a sugar daddy!"

"Guys do it too," Sebast put in. "My cousin Dolores has this useless sack of shit boyfriend who can't keep a job, he just sponges off her and sits home all day playing video games because he's gonna hit it big as a Twitch streamer, y'know?"

"Gamers don't suck," Kala put in. "But it's not easy getting famous that way."

"No, _he_ sucks," Sebast said. "He's home every day but he expects her to cook and clean and shit. She'd rather have a useless man than be single, though, so what I can say?"

Kala sighed and shook her head. "Did I ever tell you guys she tried to report Dustin for domestic violence the night I threw her shit out into the street? If he hadn't gone over to Jase's that night, all pissed off at me, he could've gone to jail because of that fake bitch. Luckily Jase and Elise gave him an alibi."

All four boys echoed some variation of 'Damn!' at that, and Ned added, "So where'd you bury the body, Kala?"

She laughed at that – but it had an edge Sebast didn't like. "You know my brother has a huge farm, right?"

The boys laughed with her, but Sebast thought that was blacker humor than usual for Kala. Maybe the martial arts guy was the source of it; working on the bad side of town _did_ tend to give people weird senses of humor.

And wasn't it odd, that Kala kept going missing all the time, and she'd just _happened_ to bump into her trainer at the concert?

…

Harley was pacing, which meant the hyenas were pacing, which meant Ivy couldn't relax or concentrate in the slightest. She was trying to catch up on the professional news she'd missed in Arkham, but that was impossible with the blonde and two hyenas nearly tripping over one another in the next room.

And really, that wasn't even the reason. Nor was narrowly escaping Red Hood and Blur, who turned out to be _very_ interesting but too dangerous to play with. What got under Ivy's skin like blistering rot and made her want to snarl was _why_ Harley was pacing.

She came to the door then, as she had three times already, and started to say, "You're _sure_ …" and Ivy had had _enough_.

" _No one has seen him,_ " she thundered, glowering at Harley. "None of my contacts _or yours_ has reached out to us. Whatever Joker's up to this time, he's playing it _very_ close to the chest, and no, I have no idea what his game is either! We've done everything short of repaint a _billboard_ asking him to call, and haven't heard anything. Give it a _rest_. _**Please.**_ "

Harley crumpled then, as she always did, and the part of Ivy that was still soft and human wilted at the sight. Worse, she heard _his_ voice whispering in her mind when that wounded look crossed Harley's face. _You use her, too,_ he'd murmured to her once. _You hurt her, too. The only difference, my dear Pam, is that I'm_ _ **honest**_ _about it. She's always known_ _ **exactly**_ _who I was. You're a bigger monster than I am, because you pretend to love her._

She gritted her teeth, because even then she could've killed him … at the cost of losing Harley for good. But that meant she lost Harley a dozen, a hundred times, small losses over and over again, and didn't all three of them know someday it was going to be the last time? Someday he was going to go over the top, and not loosen up while he strangled her, not pull the last punch, not point the knife someplace she could heal up with another scar to proclaim her love.

Someday he was going to kill Harley, and if Ivy _really_ loved her, she'd kill the bastard first, even if she lost the one human being on the planet she actually cared for in the process. Even if the woman she loved killed _her_ for it, that would still be better than letting Harley limp along and crawl back to him, time and time again.

As if she didn't know why Harley had gone missing for six months last year, left Gotham completely and dropped off everyone's radar. Joker hadn't even _noticed_. He only noticed Harley when she was in front of him, and even then, he only cared about what she could do for him, or if she was in his way. Ivy should have killed him then, while Harley was in Brooklyn, she'd gotten _very_ close to doing it … but at the last second she'd realized that Harley would _know_ it was her. So she let the bastard live, weak sentimental fool that she was. He lived, and Harley suffered for it, and Pam regretted every breath he drew.

"'m sorry, Pammy," Harley whispered, looking like a beaten dog, and oh Joker was _right,_ she was a worse monster than he was, because that look on her face made Ivy wild with anger, made her want to shake the blonde until her teeth rattled.

Not because she liked seeing pain and fear in her eyes. Because she _hated_ it. And watching Harley react like this, the way she'd been _trained_ to, made Ivy want to scream until her ears bled sap. She clenched her jaw, holding in all the things she wanted so badly to say.

 _You don't have to apologize for existing._ _ **He**_ _taught you that._

 _You're better than him, why do you let him do this to you?_

 _What will it take for you to see him as he really is, and_ _ **run**_ _? Or blow his brains out like you should've the first time he hit you?_

 _How can you stand up to the worst of the thugs in this city, how can you go toe-to-toe with Batman, and still crumble when that arrogant jackass clown snaps his fingers?_

Instead, Ivy ground out, "Harley, come here."

Worse and worse, she did as she was told, dragging her feet, the hyenas whining behind her. But she did as ordered, and she looked at Ivy with blue eyes swimming with hurt, awaiting her punishment. He'd taught her that, too. Harley never ran from someone she trusted, just stood there and took the worst of whatever they dished out. Rationalizing so it was all her own fault the whole time. Ivy knew that, she'd learned to be very careful in what she said and when and how she said it, because just now if she told Harley to get lost she would literally go do that, blindfold herself and run through unfamiliar parts of town, and tell herself she deserved Ivy's scorn and dismissal.

It would be better, for everyone, if she just killed Harley right now. Cleanly, quickly, painlessly. She could do it, no toxin would touch her but a knife to the throat would work and she'd never see it coming. Even if it was a mess, even if it took too long, it'd still be better than whatever death Joker had in store for her. Everyone knew about the Robin he'd killed. The thought of something so blunt and horrific as a crowbar applied to Harley – _her_ Harley – made her nauseous to even think about.

The worst of it was, the crowbar was probably too direct, and too quick, for Harley. He'd come up with something worse. Slow submersion in acid. Cheese graters and lemon juice. Or worse, things not even Ivy wanted to think about; his twisted genius for horrible suffering knew no limits.

She couldn't do that, either, even if it was merciful. Ivy clung to the selfish hope that someday, some way, Harley would _realize_ she didn't need Joker. And then maybe, just maybe, they'd kill him together. It was foolish, she knew, but that tiny gossamer thread of hope was all that kept her from just murdering them both and taking out half the city along the way.

Ivy bit her lip, and counted to ten, and took Harley's hands. "I'm not angry with you," she said, the lie bitter on her tongue, but the blonde would accept it like she'd accepted so many other lies. "We have to be patient, Harley. We'll find out what he's up to, but you know when he wants to disappear, not even the Bat can find him."

"And we don't have Batsy's fancy toys," Harley finished, sounding disappointed, but she nodded. She brightened then, without the shadow of judgment over her. "Y'know, maybe that's a good idea. Paintin' a billboard, I mean."

She had to bite her tongue not to scream; that was _not_ the point, but of course Harley was fixed on him like a compass pointing to a magnet. Not even realizing that what she'd found wasn't what she'd sought, too overwhelmed by the attraction to see truth.

Still, if Harley went out and painted a billboard or two, that would at least get her out from underfoot and let her feel like she was _doing_ something. "If you really want to, Harley, go ahead. Just don't give away our location.".

The sunny smile she got in response was worth every second of frustration.


	62. Deeper than the Truth

Every spare moment, Jay hunted Joker, but the sonofabitch was laying low. Not even Harley could find him, and yeah, Jay was watching her too. He had a rough idea of where she and Ivy were holed up, but at the moment they weren't causing trouble, so he didn't take the time to hunt them down and bring them in. He had bigger problems.

One of them was Dent, and talking to Kala about all his issues reminded him that he maybe should've been pissed off at Two-Face. The guy _did_ kill his dad … but Willis was no damn prize, anyway. Jay had enough to be mad about without worrying about that. Maybe if he ever had the opportunity to put a boot in Dent's fucked-up face, he'd think of his father when he did that, but really, Willis Todd wasn't much of a dad.

No, the saddest and most hilariously fucked-up part was, Bruce with all of _his_ issues had been more of a dad than his actual father. That was why the 'soldier' epitaph hurt so fucking much.

Jay shook himself; thinking about that crap on patrol was a good way to get splattered. He focused back on the task at hand, narrowing his eyes at the street below him. Jay murmured into his comm, "O, what the hell am I looking at? These guys act like they don't know if they're here to fight or negotiate or fuckin' square-dance."

"Your guess is as good as mine, Hood," Babs replied. "Facial recognition says some of them are from Mask's organization, and some are from Two-Face's. Most aren't in the database, so they're new, or low enough level I haven't got good data on them."

"If they don't do something soon, I'm gonna bounce down there and start some trouble of my own," he muttered.

"Let me send someone to mind you, then," Babs told him, laughing.

"Fuck you, O, I don't need a babysitter," he groused, and then heard a new voice on the line, full of warm amusement.

"How about close air support, Mr. Fractious?" Kala taunted, though she seemed somewhat distracted; he could heard the crooked grin from here.

Jay grinned. "Close air support I can do. Where are you, Blur?"

"Half a mile over your head, tracking the guys on the street. Unfortunately, I haven't picked up on a pattern either. They're not talking much, it's like they're waiting for someone. Or for something to happen."

"Give it fifteen minutes, then we're gonna make something happen," he muttered.

"If we're waiting that long, I'm coming down," she replied. "At least you can entertain me with conversation while these guys are figuring themselves out."

Jay looked around, but he didn't see her descend. That was good though, it meant the uniform he designed was doing its job. He _did_ see her coming; apparently Kala had landed a little distance away, and had made her way over the rooftops to him.

He made space for her, turning his attention back to the men. A dozen men sat in cars, and several more lounged against a building, behind a defunct warehouse. Most of them weren't making eye contact with each other, just stealing little apprehensive glances. He kept monitoring them, but asked Kala, "How's the tour? You guys just pulled out of Philly, so Baltimore's next, right?"

"Yeah, we're on again tomorrow, so tonight's a breather. They think this is retail therapy since my nerves are so frayed," she replied with a heavy sigh, rubbing her temples. "They're not wrong, though. Sebast and I are thinking seriously about firing our manager, but that's a whole shit-show in and of itself. We basically have to threaten to renege on our contracts, and it could cost us money. If it really comes down to it, I have a back-up, I'll probably be fine, but it's not like the boys can really brazen out things if we're put in that position. Even if it would make life more livable." The situation was clearly weighing on her, with the way she was worrying her lip.

"Oh, shit, I forgot you were a trust fund baby," Jay remarked, trying to tease her out of her funk. "No wonder you and Tim get along!"

The fiery look he got was absolutely what he expected from his girl, complete with scowl. Then he got a contemptuous little grin from her, Kala giving a little snort. "Fuck you, you were too."

"Was not," he growled.

"I've seen your file, Jay. You were the only one of the boys that Bruce formally adopted. As far as the law is concerned, you're actually more of an heir than both Dick and Tim. So, with that logic, sir, you were and are a Wayne, therefore you had money," Kala said, in her best long-suffering teacher voice. "I bet if you asked Bruce, he set up a trust fund for you a million years ago."

"Yeah, doesn't do me any good if I don't know about it or have access," Jay pointed out, but he filed that thought away. It was possible that Bruce _had_ set up an account for him, and he really ought to ask.

Kala sat back, turned off her comm, and said archly, "Check into it. It's better than running around on al Ghul money."

He sneered at her … but he'd checked, and Talia had topped up that account again after he drained it the last time. Which, given his recent conversation with her, brought up a whole bunch of questions he was _never_ gonna ask. "Speaking of the Demon, you wanna make sure you stay out of Gotham this weekend," he said.

"Oh, she's coming to visit?" Kala asked, raising her eyebrows. And if she thought she was being subtle with that queenly look and the way she bristled, well, he wasn't gonna tell her she was wrong.

Jay just elbowed her lightly. "No, fucking Black Mask bought three kilos of kryptonite off her. Talia double-crossed him and told us when it's coming in. This is stronger shit that Luthor's been selling; it's from the island. I don't want you anywhere around until we have it all locked down, you got me?"

It looked like that was enough to defrost that decidedly chilly look, K giving that a grudging chuckle. "Aww, aren't you sweet, being so protective."

He didn't miss that little smile she'd quickly hidden. At least he'd made her laugh. "No sense in letting you get hurt when I'm counting on you to save my ass anytime things go sideways," Jay told her.

"You assume I like you that much, Red." She scoffed at him for that, before giving a little sigh that spoke of relief. "Seriously, though. I'm glad you're getting it off the street. _Not_ so glad she's doing business in Gotham."

"Me, neither," he said. "Pretty pissed she sold the kryptonite in the first place, but I see her point. Doing it this way keeps it off the market, screws over someone she doesn't like, and keeps her in Bruce's good books for a while. Speaking of _that_ whole situation – Bruce slept with _both_ of them when she was in town last. And they both know it. He's gonna be real lucky if Talia and Selina don't compare notes and decide to Bobbitt him."

That had Kala shaking her head. "Talk about a man that likes to take his life in his hands. Holy God, he's crazier than I thought. I knew Uncle Bruce had issues, but _damn_. I'm just glad _you're_ staying out of her sphere this time around. _Very_ glad."

Jay was suddenly _very_ glad he hadn't mentioned that Talia had called _him_. Or what she'd implied about the file. It didn't change anything, anyway. "Yeah, no, I'm done with the femme fatale thing. Now I'm strictly interested in chicks with superpowers who can cook."

He caught her by surprise with that one. "Asshole," Kala laughed, her eyes dancing when she elbowed him this time.

Still no movement below, and Jay checked the time. He'd give them another few minutes. "You got any _good_ news, K?"

Kala stifled laughter, swinging her legs a bit. She was probably getting antsy by the lack of activity, too. "Yeah, the closest thing I have to _good_ news is my bassist found a girl he likes. They're gonna meet up when we get to California."

"Good for him," Jay said. "How's that _not_ good news? What is she, one of those crunchy-granola yoga-posing vegetarian hippies?"

"Watch it, Big Bad. I've been a very-frustrated vegetarian," Kala scolded, lightly smacking his side, and then sighed. "No, it's just … he's only spoken to her online. I want it to work out for him, I really do, I just hope she hasn't been playing him."

"Every guy gets played by someone someday," Jay said philosophically. "He'll live, if she does. Just don't let him get all wrapped up in her if she turns out to be fake."

"Oh, no worries on that," she said darkly. "I've become something of a veteran in that position. I've run off a good share of them in my time, I'll do it again if I have to. I'm not watching someone I care about get played."

Jay nodded sagely. "Update that; I'm only interested in chicks with superpowers who can cook and who will kick ass to keep their dumb guy friends outta trouble."

"Yeah, especially dumb guys who are too ridiculously handsome for their own good," Kala snarked, and Jay just groaned. He'd walked _right_ into that one.

Something changed on the street belong, a new car pulling up, and they both went on the alert. Jay tapped his comm. "O, you seeing this?" he murmured.

"I am," she replied. "Nothing coming back on the plate. The windows are tinted."

Kala leaned forward, flipping up the lenses in her domino and narrowing her eyes. "I don't recognize anyone in the car, but it's three guys."

Jay focused the optics in his helmet, peering down. For a moment he just saw the tops of guys' heads as they got out; looked like one boss and two bodyguards, one of whom was also the driver. The boss kept his back to Jay, moving purposefully toward the gathered men. "O, you got a camera in place?"

"Not with enough resolution to run facial recognition," she muttered in annoyance. "You'll have to get eyes on him."

"K, stay here," Jay said, wanting this approach covered. "I might recognize him, or upload the feed from the helmet if I don't. Watch my ass, okay?"

Kala didn't argue it for once, nodding her understanding. "How could I not, when it's such a lovely view?" she replied, grinning, that one dark brow arched teasingly. Babs didn't even bother to mute her mic while she laughed at them both.

Jay rolled his eyes and set out to move unseen to a better vantage point.

…

Left on her own, Kala bounced on her heels, waiting and watching. She heard Jay's voice with a slight echo, coming from her comm and also across the open air, her ears tuned to even his slightest whisper. "I know this guy from somewhere," he said, and must have transmitted the image because he asked, "O, ringing any bells? I can't place him."

"He works with Scarecrow," Babs replied. "Let's see what they're up to – this is an odd mix to be meeting with one of Crane's men."

"Crane having a _team_ is blowing my mind," Jay growled. "He's always gone solo or worked for someone else; all the rogues know who he is and what he does, so they use him. Is this scrap with Dent him finally making a real play?"

"Don't forget, some of those men used to work for Mask, and he's contracted Scarecrow before," Babs said. "Maybe it's not Crane's meeting."

Kala half-closed her eyes, listening intently. "They're going to have some kind of demonstration inside the warehouse. We'd better follow."

"Agreed. Come to me, we'll figure a way in," Jay said, and Kala made her way across to him silently as the men below filed into the building.

They got inside thanks to a window near the roof, and Kala's flight meant Jay didn't have to risk even the slight noise of a grapnel. There were catwalks up above, and they found a perch that let them see the the men. And a large screen television that had been set up, power running to it from a long extension cord.

The guy everyone had waited for stepped up and addressed the rest. "You all know who I work for," he began. "Some of you may have worked with him in the past. And you know his specialty: _fear_. But your employers – or your _former_ employer, in the case of those of you waiting for Black Mask to make bail – have never truly capitalized on the power of fear. You think you know what fear is if you've been afraid of getting shot, or arrested, or killed. You may have even been exposed to fear toxin in the past, and seen your nightmares come to life."

The man grinned at them all, and Kala felt Jay shift uneasily beside her. She didn't like the tone of the conversation below. Scarecrow's spokesman continued, "The problem with older formulations of fear toxin was that its effect was _too_ intense. Observe." He took a remote from his pocket, pressed a button, and the television came to life.

On the screen were three men sitting in a room, filling out forms. A little puff of smoke came from a vent in the wall, which none of them noticed, but lettering on the screen gave a timestamp and the note 'toxin introduced'. Kala gritted her teeth as the men began to look around, increasingly nervous, until one looked at his neighbor and screamed. Within seconds all three men huddled in different corners, whimpering and moaning.

The leader of this meeting paused the video. "While it's certainly effective in removing one's opposition, this degree of fear is counterproductive. Subjects cannot function in such a state. And then there is the inverse reaction, rarely seen but quite dramatic. Some subjects' adrenal response is not _flight_ , but _fight_. Any of you who have seen the Batman exposed to fear toxin are familiar with _that_ unpleasant outcome."

A scattering of ironic chuckles met that remark, and Kala saw Jay grin beneath the helmet. Yeah, Uncle Bruce didn't run from things he feared, for the most part. He just punched them. A lot. And many of the men below had felt the weight of his fists before.

"My employer has been refining his formula," the man continued. "The current version still induces overwhelming fear, but not the generalized horrors of past attempts. This version will make subjects view the next person they encounter as their greatest fear. It's much more difficult to break out of the fear-state, since the hallucinations are not as widespread. Observe."

He pressed another button on the remote, and this time they saw a cage full of white rats. "The application is simpler to explain with lower-order animals, as they don't make as many troubling associations as humans," Scarecrow's pawn explained. "Rats naturally fear cats, of course, but for this group their fear has been intensified by classical conditioning, in this case by pairing the sight and scent of the cat with a series of randomized electric shocks." As he spoke, one wall of the cage lifted up, exposing a set of bars beyond which a bored-looking cat sat grooming its paws. All of the rats ran to the back of the cage, squeaking and trying to burrow under one another.

Kala scowled, but the video continued to play, and the wall came back down, closing the rats away from the cat. They gradually recovered, the screen faded to black, and the spokesman continued, "These rats were then separated, and individually exposed to fear toxin. While under its influence, they were shown another test rat." The video played, showing small cages of nervous-looking rats. They could all see out of the front of their cages, and a different rat – this one black and white – was placed on a table in view of them all. Every rat in the cages ran to the back and scrabbled in a futile attempt to hide.

One of the other men spoke up. "Fascinating. You can make an animal, and I guess a man too, see his worst fear. What _use_ is it?"

"Ah, but the key is in _timing_ ," the spokesman replied. "Unlike generalized fear, this specific hallucination elicits a much more predictable reaction. Some people instinctively react with violence to random fear, but they will always flee their _worst_ fear. And this preparation causes them to see the next being they encounter _as that fear_. In this case, they see the piebald rat as the sum of all terrors. Now watch."

He fast-forwarded a bit, and they all saw the big cage again, with presumably the same white rats. One wall was lifted up, revealing the piebald rat, and the white ones fled it the same way they'd fled from the cat. Only this time, the opposite wall also lifted up, revealing the actual cat. And there were no bars separating the test rats from the cat.

They fled into the cat's chamber, some of them burrowing under it to escape the sight of the piebald rat. The poor cat looked entirely nonplussed, standing up and trying to get away from the rats, but they continued trying to hide under it. The spokesman let them watch for a few seconds before pointing out, "As you see, the fear toxin has made these rats more frightened of the test rat than they are of the cat, which they fear both instinctively and because they've been conditioned to associate it with painful stimuli. The toxin-induced fear is stronger than the actual object they feared."

The gathered men seemed suitably impressed. Kala, meanwhile, gritted her teeth. The possible applications were deeply worrisome, as was the experiment itself.

"So, gentlemen," the spokesman said, pausing the video. "The most _interesting_ aspect of this particular formulation is that the test subjects behave otherwise normally. There is no pervasive, generalized, crippling fear, as you saw in the original formula. They can conduct their lives as normal, until presented with the proper stimulus, whereupon the fear state is activated. We expect this will be particularly effective for authority figures."

"Has it been tested on humans?" one of the men asked.

"Not yet, and that is where _you_ come in," the spokesman said. "We require test subjects – and you gentlemen know how to acquire them. Particularly those of you who were involved in Black Mask's operation."

At that, Jay shifted beside her, and once he had her attention he pointed toward the window they'd entered by. Kala took them both outside, and he murmured, "I'm calling it in. We could do a lot of good just busting all their heads, but we'd lose Crane. I wanna stop him before he can get into whatever he has in mind. This authority figures shit, I don't like."

"That sounded like a sales pitch," Kala told him, frowning. "Like he's planning to market this. Can you imagine all the world's tinpot dictators with access to something like what he's brewing?"

"Yeah, a little too well," Jay said, shaking his head. Kala stood by while he called it in to Babs, splitting her attention between Jay and the men still inside the building. The situation certainly bore watching, and the sooner they could get Scarecrow back off the street, the better.

…

When Ivy turned the key in the lock and _didn't_ hear the chattering whoops of two excited hyenas, she froze, all senses on the alert. But nothing seemed out of place in their safehouse. She stepped inside cautiously, scrutinizing every square inch and listening for the slightest sound.

No. _Everything_ was out of place, because _nothing_ was what greeted her. No claws scraping and clicking on the tiled floor. No pacing or humming or singing from Harley. No scent of cooking food; Harley did something she called stress-baking, and when she was nervous the place filled up with cookies and muffins and pastries, far more than they could eat.

No scent of cordite, no Bat-faced target pasted to the wall and stuck full of darts, knives, or bullet holes, either, which was the _other_ way Harley dealt with stress. And as Ivy looked closer, no tangle of shoes in the foyer, no jacket flung carelessly over a chair, and of course, the continued absence of Bud and Lou, who in the normal course of things would be sniffing her hands about now. And she'd scold them, demand that Harley keep them on a leash, and somehow accidentally manage to scratch the one spot behind Lou's ear that made him make that silly face.

Ivy knew that if she looked in the bathroom, Harley's makeup wouldn't be taking over her counter space. Harley's three different shampoos wouldn't be jostling her custom-blended soap for space by the tub. And in the living room, she wouldn't find issues of the Lancet and the Journal of Clinical Psychiatry and Psychiatric Research crowding out her botany journals on the coffee table. She wouldn't stumble across an issue of Vogue or Marie Claire hidden inside the serious stuff, and wouldn't be able to tease Harley about slumming it with _popular_ periodicals.

Worse and worse, Harley's clothes wouldn't be piled atop her bed, and Harley's perfume wouldn't linger on her pillow for more than a few days. Ivy stood staring for long moments, and then finally dropped into the old armchair closest to the door.

Harley was gone. Again.

A black thought twisted around her heart like a thorny vine – had it been the stupid billboard? Had her throwaway idea _worked_? Could life be that cruel? – and Ivy forced it aside brutally. It didn't matter. If Harley didn't go to Joker, he'd eventually show up looking for her. And she'd skip right out the door and into his arms again.

Every.

Single.

Time.

"I should've killed her. It would've been kinder," Ivy murmured, remembering the sad waiting-to-be-beaten look in Harley's eyes.

And then, remembering the feel of her ribs under Ivy's hand later that night, the knotted places where old breaks had healed wrong, Ivy gripped the arms of the chair and snarled, "I should've killed _him_."

Oh, she should've, but she _hadn't_ , so now they were all back to the same old dance again. Harley shared her home and her life and her bed … for a while. Until she found her way back to her favorite addiction. Joker was just as destructive as any drug, and even more difficult for Harley to give up.

As if she'd ever even _try_.

There were plants scattered through this safehouse, and Harley had been diligent in keeping the hyenas from nibbling on them, so they thrived. A potted castor tree, beautiful nightshade, and less dangerous plants all grew vigorously under Ivy's care. But it was a humble philodendron which had come with this place, forgotten in a pot beside the door, that rustled and grew toward her now. As Ivy sat staring at everything that wasn't there, the most common houseplant in the world twined itself around her forearm, the green world reaching out with what comfort it could offer.

Unfortunately, it was cold. And for once in her life, Pam wanted warmth. Not Ivy the villain, the avatar of the Green, the May Queen; Poison Ivy didn't crave warmth, for she was at home in the cool green shade she created. It was Pam who missed Harley, Pam the woman she'd once been and who lived still in the secret spaces of her soul. Pam wanted the bright buzz of caffeine on her lips and the flash of mischievous fire in Harley's blue eyes and the heat of Harley's skin when she twined around her. Pam yearned for life in the red-blooded world, running leaping laughing fighting kissing, all of it too fast for reflection or serenity or even breath, a kaleidoscope of moving life, singing its joy at simply _existing_ with every cell and fiber of its being … and only Harley brought her there.

Only Harley left her, alone, to cold comfort and silence and too much time to remember and regret.

She'd come back, she always came back … as long as she was alive. And she always came back with new bruises, new scars, new excuses. Ivy sighed, letting out a breath, and wished she could be one thing or the other – animal enough to go throttle the Joker and damn the cost, or plant enough to let go and stop caring.

…

Jay hated leaving those scumbags loose, but he thought of them as bait. Fish too small for him to bother with, but if he let 'em keep swimming – with a few carefully placed trackers on several of their coats, and Kala's speed kept coming in useful – if he let them go, they'd bring in much bigger fish. The kind he _really_ wanted to fry.

And there the analogy broke down, because he wasn't gonna describe anyone in the rogues' gallery as _tasty_ , but there were some he wanted to bust more than others. It'd be nice to track this back to Dent, sure, but it seemed Scarecrow was flying solo, and Jay would settle for him. They could always snatch up Two-Face later, it wasn't like any of these fuckers were retiring or anything.

Kala flew them out of range, and they settled in to patrol their sector while Jay mulled over options. At this hour, that mostly meant going from rooftop to rooftop, looking for trouble, and not finding _too_ much of it. Word had gotten out that Red Hood and Blur worked together, and that tended to suppress a certain amount of crime. Jay didn't need to consciously _look_ at the street anymore, he took it all in with a glance and trusted his instincts to alert him.

"I'm gonna have to go undercover," he sighed at last. "Deep cover. Big Tommy could get in on this, and I've already got a safehouse."

Kala had been quartering a little distance away, but at his voice she checked and returned to his side. "We've got tracking on six of them," she said.

He didn't like it either. Being undercover meant being cold and hungry, it meant running with bad people and probably getting smacked around by 'bigger' bad guys. Worse, it meant not seeing Kala. "Yeah, but we need somebody inside. We need to get a sample of the formula. And we need to know where Crane's holding his 'test subjects'. Fuckin' mad science, it's bad enough we have Joker and Harley and Ivy running loose again, now _that_ asshole decides to stir up shit."

He could hear in her voice just how she felt about it, too. The timing was shit for both of them. "Such is our luck," Kala sighed, pulling her hair down for a moment, running a hand through it. Another tell. Yeah, she was just as damn disappointed as he was. "If it has to be done, it has to be. At least, you can't go under just yet. You've got to intercept the kryptonite first."

He rounded on her then, swiftly enough to make her eyes go wide. Jesus fuck, that doe-eyed expression, she looked just like the tender bit of sweetness he'd thought she was when he first laid eyes on her, ridiculous costume and all. If Jay hadn't seen those eyes go first steely-cold, then murderous red with flame, he might even think she was still too soft for this job.

Not his girl, though. K was only soft on the outside, kissable skin and tempting curves. The inside of her was made of steel, just stronger, and God help any idiot that thought she was weak. Any idiot like him, a few months ago, and he grinned fleetingly to remember the sound of his nose breaking. Yep, he was one sick puppy.

He couldn't grin too much, though, because he had to be serious enough to make her _listen_ for once. "Yeah, about that. You keep your sweet Kryptonian ass outta Gotham while we handle that, you hear me? I mean it, no last-minute heroics, no jumping in front of the gun, no taking point when I tell you to back the fuck off, no running off and getting smooched by Poison Ivy when O tells us to sit tight. All that other shit we got through thanks to luck and backup and you being pretty durable after all, but you are _not_ getting kryptonited again. Not on my watch. Got it?"

She bit her lip, looking up at him – shit, he usually forgot she was a little shorter even with the rise in the boots, until a moment like this – and asked in a subdued voice, "I haven't screwed up _that_ many times, have I?"

Jay sighed and smacked his helmet lightly. Last thing he needed to do was give her a goddamn complex. "No, K – fuck. See, this is why B-man doesn't want metas in Gotham, we can't train you right. You're not doing anything _wrong_ , you're just doing what we _can't_. If I could see someone about to get shot and just _be there_ fast enough to slap the bullets aside, you think I wouldn't? Of course I would. Anybody would. Problem is, I can't be there with you, I can't watch your back when you're too far ahead of me. But I know it's futile asking you not to jump ahead, because what were you gonna do? Let that zookeeper get shot? Not fuckin' likely. If I order you to stay behind and something like that happens again, you're just gonna feel like shit when you disobey orders to save someone's life."

Kala blinked, still looking dubious. "Yeah, but the night we went after Joker, that was different."

He scoffed. "Yeah, that was you getting out in front because you were trying to protect _me_. And much as I fuckin' _hate_ to say it, you were right. This is _exactly_ why Batman doesn't train metas, you do what we tell you not to do and you turn out to be _right_. I can admit that, he can't because he's got a giant Bat-stick up his ass."

"I _do_ listen to you, Jay. I really do, actually," she insisted. "You have way more experience in this than I do, I know. I _know_ that. I _respect_ that. The thing is … I know what I can do, and I can be fucking _useful_. I'm not helping if I'm hanging back because you're trying to protect the newbie."

He cupped her face in gloved hands, searching her gaze. For anyone else he'd take the helmet off, but K could see right through him. "I know you do. But you're _good_ at this. Too good to let you get killed. So when we're looking at _three fucking kilos_ of green k, the purest shit on the market anywhere in the world, I'd be a shitty trainer and an even shittier partner if I _didn't_ protect you. The only way I can do that is keep you the fuck outta Gotham, because if you're here, you'll be in it. You can't be _you_ and not try to cover my ass. Just … not this time, K, not with this stuff. I can't let my partner get killed, not on my watch."

She sighed, leaning into his touch, those gorgeous eyes of hers earnest in a way she usually wasn't. "I get it. I do. Just … Jay, I can't let _my_ partner get killed when I'm not even here to save him, okay? That's part of my job now. So be careful. Please."

"K, I've been doing dumb shit for _years_ and mostly survived it," he told her, watching with amusement as she scowled. "I'll have backup, it's gonna be fine. I'll just be a lot happier knowing _you_ aren't in range of this stuff."

"And I'd be a lot happier if I could keep an eye on you," she said firmly, but she sighed. "I get it. I'll stay away. You call me the _second_ that's over, though. I need to know you're all right – and I need to see you, before you go undercover. God, I wish I could follow you there, too, but I know I can't."

"Yeah, your tour manager would shit bricks if you were spotted living like a homeless person in the Bowery," Jay laughed. "Also, with your senses I don't think you wanna smell me when I haven't had a shower in a week."

"Oh, Derek's already shitting bricks," she grumbled. "The little prick already accused me of having a drug problem since I've been gone so much. As if."

Jay barked a laugh at that. "Shit, if that even _works_ on you, if any drug can affect you long enough to get you addicted, I'd be the first one throwing your ass in rehab. But I guess he's half right. You're pretty hooked on the vigilante life."

"Yeah, and whose fault is that?" Kala shot back, challenging him.

"Well I do take you to the nicest places and introduce you to the nicest people," Jay teased.

"And then we kick their asses and turn them over to the cops," she finished, playfully. Her expression grew serious, and she told him, "Does it make me sound like a chump if I say I don't really relish the fact that I'm not gonna see you while you're undercover?"

"Not unless it makes me a chump, too. I'm gonna miss you." That was about as real as Jay could stand to be, and he clapped her shoulder. "Hey, at least you're not gonna be eating out of dumpsters. A couple months of real food reset my taste buds. It's gonna be weird living on the street again."

"I wish you didn't have to. And you're feeding those kids, right?" Kala's eyes were full of concern again.

"Yeah, but I'm not gonna be able to stay with them the whole time. It'll be a jumping-off point. God only knows what I'll be doing once I wiggle my way in with Scarecrow's boys," Jay said, trailing off absently, then he focused on Kala again. "The kryponite's coming in late Saturday night. Once it's all squared away, and assuming Scarecrow doesn't make a move that forces me to jump in early, how's about we get Sunday brunch together? I still owe you a real date."

And oh, the smile that lit up her face then! Best of all, that was a look of honest surprise. "Now _that_ I can get with," Kala replied with a laugh. "I'll find a way to be there."

…

Luthor sighed. Project Scion was doing splendidly, as always, but Uplift was not performing as expected. He stared into the cage, ignoring the steady snarl from the huge white dog. Its blue eyes fixed on him with savage hatred. "Do you have any idea what a fortune in kryptonite is contained in those bars?" he said to Mercy.

"We have more, and we can make more," she replied. "As wealthy as you are, cost isn't a reason to scrap the project and start over, especially when that's our only success."

Luthor shook his head. "They don't belong here. This is just more proof. All the technology, the AI providing assistance, and we've only managed to produce three viable examples of Kryptonian genetics. One of which is fundamentally flawed, one is a child, and one would like to tear my throat out."

Mercy nodded. Bizarro was a failure in terms of cloning, but he was still useful. Scion was their one perfect success, and even he had required blending in a little human DNA. The dog was part of their aborted effort to introduce Kryptonian powers to Earth-based lifeforms. Unfortunately, Uplift was simply too unpredictable, and though some earlier tests had indicated it was much more intelligent than a normal dog, along with the strength and speed and durability, so far Lex hadn't been able to make use of it. That gnawed at him – he despised the waste of time and resources. Anything that was not serving his purpose, he was inclined to discard, and any argument for retaining it was likely to be treated as foolish sentiment. Luthor _despised_ sentiment. It was the thing that clouded his judgment the most. Mercy sometimes wondered if he realized that his hatred of irrational sentiment was itself irrational.

He looked back at the dog, which snapped its jaws. Their tests had shown that it could bite through tempered steel – hence the kryptonite bars on its cage, covered with a thin layer of lead. The dog was smart enough not to try them again after the first few exposures. Mercy said thoughtfully, "Scion could probably control it."

"No. I won't risk Scion being attacked," Luthor replied instantly. "The boy is stronger and faster, he's developing all the powers as he matures, but I won't put him in a situation where he'll feel threatened. The last thing I need is him blaming _me_ for that."

Mercy gave a cold smile; for an instant, he'd almost sounded _paternal_. Of course, it was just self-interest at work, and Luthor was much easier to predict than he even guessed. "Of course not. We'll let _them_ introduce him to the concept of threat."

Luthor chuckled. "And besides, can you _imagine_ the havoc two super-powered creatures could wreak on this place? I'd rather not have the roof fall in around me _again_."

"Once was enough," Mercy agreed, and changed the subject. "Have you seen the news from Guyot-Perrin yet?"

He scowled. "I have. And it looks like _someone_ has been helping their research. It's time, Mercy. We need to destroy the crystals that are resonance-linked to the ones we gave them for testing. I only wish I could see their faces when everything stops working."

The thought made Mercy smile. "Maybe they'll turn to Wayne Enterprises after all. They're the only others out there with samples of Kryptonian crystal that aren't irradiated."

"Well, and the alien himself," Luthor growled. "His kind wasn't meant to exist here, Mercy. It's the only explanation for the difficulties we've faced. This – Uplift, the rest of it – just shows that Kryptonian powers are a dead-end for living beings. Their technology works beautifully; _they_ do not."

Mercy needed to steer him away from the topic before he started in on how Lois Lane managed to create _two_ fully functional Kryptonian hybrids using nothing more technologically advanced than her own uterus. The irony, that she had succeeded by _accident_ and by falling in love with the alien when all of their own attempts to recreate Superman with vastly superior knowledge had failed, drove Luthor to distraction. "They're doomed to extinction," she said with a dismissive shrug. "What we can learn from them – what you can apply from their knowledge – is not. So let's go throw a wrench into the gears at Guyot-Perrin, shall we? I wouldn't want our _'friends'_ to think we can be so easily taken for granted."

As she'd expected, that got him chuckling. "Yes, let's. It's a good day for industrial sabotage."


	63. So Lost in Sunlight

Even knowing the time for the kryptonite drop off, they'd been hard-pressed to find the place before it actually arrived. Jay had been leaning toward aerial delivery, given Black Mask's fondness for rooftops and helicopters, but Babs remotely cracked the encryption on Mask's assistant's tablet and found out it was coming in by ship. Which was why Jay and the rest were at the docks, hidden in various strategic positions, waiting for the hand off. If possible, they were going to bring in whoever delivered it, too. Jay figured Bruce made that choice because he couldn't let anyone get away with trafficking kryptonite in _his_ city. He also figured Talia wouldn't be too pissed, because it gave her plausible deniability to keep Mask from finding out she'd double-crossed him.

And since they were taking down people with more training than the usual Gotham goons, the whole damn flock was on tap tonight. Dinah and Helena were in, Dick was over from Blüdhaven again, Babs was in everyone's ears, and even Selina had been in on the prep. Bruce might've called her in to the fight, but she claimed to have urgent out of town business tonight. She did owe Mask a kick in the teeth, so early this morning she'd placed tracking devices on all six of the potential vehicles Mask might use to transport the kryptonite, just in case he got away. There weren't many people in Gotham or the whole country who could get in and out unseen as smoothly as Catwoman, and Mask had gotten a lot more paranoid since the days when Jay and Bruce had both bugged his desk.

The only one missing was Kala.

She was on stage, anyway, it was a Saturday night and it wasn't like the lead singer could miss a performance. Her thousands of fans would've been highly pissed. And Bruce agreed with Jay, Kala needed to keep out of this entirely.

It was grimmer and quieter without her there. Even despite having the Birds, Dinah often easing the tension, and despite the memory of Selina tweaking the Bat's nose with impunity, the _light_ that Kala brought wasn't there. Jay found he'd grown used to it. She was the kind of woman who'd fly back to check on _Harley's fucking hyenas_. And then not kick the damn things into orbit even when they were chewing on her ass. So fucking hopeful, and not in the stupid naïve way he saw all too often, even in this town. Kala _knew_ the darkness, and held hope close anyway.

Time ticked away, and from where he was crouched Jay saw Mask's men arriving, scoping out the area. He was inside an empty shipping crate which looked exactly like dozens of others stacked up awaiting use or disposal, and which had a convenient knothole to look out from. Mask's guys weren't going to be _that_ careful, they might look in the top two or three crates, but they wouldn't peer into this one on the bottom. Not when they'd had their people watching the approach to this dock for two days, and the notes on _that_ were how Babs had found it, after all.

She'd also found the watchers' schedules and notes, and knew they only did a few walk-throughs, mostly keeping an eye out for any unusual traffic in the area. They were planning to spot any encroaching Bats, but since the Bats were aware of their patrols, they'd all just slipped in around Mask's watchers. Easy as pie. Jay himself had come up _under_ this dock, in fact, swum here and cut a hole through the wood of the dock and the bottom of the crate. He spent his time waiting for the show to start by weakening the boards along one side, the better to burst out when needed.

Most of the others were at roof-level, lying prone behind cover, but Bruce and Dinah were on the ground too. The hardest-hitting members of the extended family were all positioned to strike the first blows.

He almost missed the boat as it approached, no lights, its engine so quiet he could only hear the water as it moved. Very slick, but who would expect less?

Mask's guys _did_ miss it, and Jay laughed silently as they startled when the first man seemed to appear on the dock. The transaction was conducted swiftly, Mask's men scurrying out of their car with a briefcase full of cash and diamonds. Jay waited until the container of kryptonite was out of the boat and on the dock, then tensed to spring. Babs' voice in his ear murmured, _"Go,"_ and all of the Bats and Birds struck at once.

Jay exploded out of the crate, his gun loaded with tranqs, and he dropped six of them before Mask's people even reacted. Talia's people were faster, and they shot back, so Jay focused on them.

Bruce came from the opposite side of the dock, and he was taking control of the kryptonite container. The guys left standing on Mask's side tried to fight him for it, but they had the rest of the family to contend with.

One of Talia's guys jumped back into the boat, leaving two behind, and it reversed quickly. Jay thought about following him aboard, but he didn't really want to fight assassins on a moving boat in the middle of Gotham Harbor, at night, with no lights. They were running a helluva risk just crossing the shipping lanes like that. So he dealt with the two in front of him, and they were both good enough to make him feel a little rusty. Maybe he should spar with Kala more, keep himself on his toes; Gotham didn't have enough highly-trained fighters to challenge him.

Well, except the ones he occasionally ate breakfast with. Bruce was effective as always, Helena was picking off bad guys with more tranq darts from her crossbow, Tim and Dick were cleaning up around the edges, and Dinah landed a roundhouse punch that Jay could almost feel from thirty feet away. They really were a damn good bunch to run with, and with Babs' intel they were well-nigh unstoppable.

It was still a little weird to feel _pride_ , in himself and his family, but Jay figured he could get used to it.

Tim ended up helping him mop up the two assassins, and they got everyone cuffed to the railings in various states of semi-consciousness. "GCPD is on the way, and Harbor Patrol is after the delivery boat," Babs informed them.

"Good," Bruce said, and they moved out of the immediate area. He waited until they were loading the kryptonite container in the Batmobile to examine it closely. It didn't take him long to pop the combination locks and open the lid…

And they all stared at what was revealed inside the heavily-insulated lead-lined box.

"You sneaky triple-crossing _bitch_ ," Jay said aloud, finally.

"What's wrong?" Babs asked.

Dinah barked a short laugh. "It's _empty_ , O. Her people got away with the payment, but the shipping container's empty. She screwed us both."

Jay had to bite his tongue not to say, _She's good at that._ Instead he took out his phone, looked up the call history, and just as Bruce began to ask him what the hell he thought he was doing, he hit the dial button.

Talia answered on the first ring. "It's four in the morning here," she told him, sounding wide awake nonetheless.

"Yeah, and you're real slick, sending us on a wild goose chase," he spat. "There's no goddamn kryptonite in the box, T."

Dinah tilted her head at the nickname, but it was too late for that, too late for trying not to show his familiarity. Talia just sighed. "You would have me ship twenty-five million dollars' worth of kryptonite halfway across the globe only to have it intercepted? I think not."

"That's what you _said_ you were going to do," Jay shot back.

"Hood," Bruce said, holding his hand out for the phone, and Jay ignored him.

Talia answered, "Yes, well, I changed my mind. If Roman's people found out it was empty, I would have made excuses given his past history of ineptitude. If they have not, I would appreciate you maintaining the ruse – but don't trouble yourself on my behalf."

"Your thugs got away with the payment, too," he snapped, ignoring Bruce staring at him. "I know you're not _that_ hard up for cash, you re-upped the account you left for me."

"I will have to refund Sionis, at least in part, to maintain the illusion of a business relationship," Talia replied blandly. "And I never said anything to you about that account being cut off. It's yours to do with as you please."

"Fuck the whole benefactor bullshit," Jay spat, and Bruce moved toward him. "I don't fucking need you."

"Give me the phone, Hood," Bruce said, and Jay took a sidling step away.

"It isn't about what you need, it's about what I promised," Talia told him. "You're on the side of the angels now, aren't you? Playing by _his_ rules. Why would you even check that account these days?"

Ignoring Bruce again, Jay growled into the phone, " _Fuck. You._ "

He heard her take a breath, and a chill ran down his spine. The easy answer was, _You did_. But with the phone held _beside_ his helmet, and audio enhancement in everyone's dominoes or cowls, they'd hear that. And with _that_ information all of the welcome-back-to-the-family stuff would stop dead. Only Kala knew, and she forgave him, but it wasn't personal for her.

Instead Talia said sharply, " _Manners_ , Jason. I taught you better than this."

Which made him bite his tongue inside the helmet, because she _still_ managed to smack him in the face with it in just the right way so that Bruce standing beside him wouldn't figure out exactly what _else_ she'd taught him. "You know what? What matters is that's another three kilos we could've taken off the market, and you played us all for fools. Don't think I'll forget that anytime soon."

"It's three kilos that was never _on_ the market, because I never had any intention of selling to scum like Sionis," Talia replied.

" _Jason_ ," Bruce said, and real names in the field startled him enough that he damn near _dropped_ the phone. "Give me the phone. Please."

He grinned viciously. "Here, T, your _husband_ wants to talk to you," and shoved the phone at Bruce.

"Talia," Bruce – no, that was Batman, his voice gravelly and deep – said in dangerous tones.

The sound was turned up so Jay could hear it through the helmet, and he heard her reply, "Beloved. Surely _you_ understand the risks of shipping something as dangerous as kryptonite, in such large quantities, across such large distances? There is no point in risk without reward."

"If you think we're going to thank you for not bringing kryptonite onto the market, you're wrong," he replied levelly. "This wasn't a show of good faith."

"Oh? Telling you when to expect it and making certain that even if you failed, your enemy would not possess three kilos of something deadlier and more valuable than plutonium, _that_ was not in good faith?" she asked, and Jay could hear her own dangerous tone. "Not to mention, delaying Sionis' plans for vengeance and enabling you to capture more of his men?"

"Turn the kryptonite over to the authorities," Bruce said.

She _laughed_ , and Jay did too, at the sheer absurdity of the demand. "So the United Nations can stockpile it? I think _not_. Even the Icon might not be so sanguine about any governing body possessing so much of the one substance on this planet fatal to him. No, Beloved, we will keep it safely hidden and locked away. As we always have."

"If Sionis contacts you again, call me," Bruce said.

"Well, you _are_ more polite, if even less reasonable," she said lightly. "I have your number, Beloved. Though perhaps I'll deal with Oracle instead. She's rather more pragmatic than either of you – she's trying to trace this call right now. On which note, I shall have to ring off. Do give the boys my regards."

Bruce scowled at the phone, handing it back to Jay, who stared at it before clicking his comm on. "Hold up. O, are you fucking tracing my calls?" He'd already talked to her, and to Bruce, about going undercover once this particular job was done, and Babs had made arrangements for him to be able to contact her quickly. She just hadn't mentioned the fact that she had a back door into his phone.

"Just that one," Babs replied. "Talia's still in France, but we knew that. Also interesting given that something fishy's going down at Guyot-Perrin. And now that she knows I was tracing her, she'll change the number. I hope you said everything you wanted to. It's going to be harder to reach her."

"The rest of it would just be me yelling profanity anyway," Jay growled.

"I can't believe she didn't hang up on you," Dick said wonderingly.

"Yeah, I guess we know which kid is her favorite now," Dinah said flippantly, and Jay damn near choked on that, turning it into laughter.

When she looked at him, Jay pointed at her. "Don't start. Don't even. Remember the last time I was at Clock Tower?"

He heard Babs click over to a private circuit, and murmur, "He has a point, Songbird. You would've been B's stepmother-in-law."

Dinah blanched, but she managed to turn it around in time. "Let's just leave all that aside, shall we? I don't want to argue with anybody over favorite kids, Arrows or Bats."

"Let's wrap this up," Bruce said gruffly, and they did.

…

After getting a late night text from Jay that simply read, _All clear, no casualties, bad guys in jail,_ Kala had fallen asleep in relief. She slept unusually heavy, Sebast's arm flung over her hip and the thought of kryptonite chasing her down further than dreams could reach. She woke up early Sunday, the rest of the band still snoring from their rooms. Dressing quietly, Kala tiptoed out, carrying her boots. She had a brunch date to make. And maybe, if she was quick enough, she could catch her Dad for a little sun.

But on her way out, she heard the unmistakable sound of weeping coming from behind the door of the room across the hall. Frowning, Kala focused on it. It sounded like a man crying, in the hopeless way they sometimes had; many men tried not to cry at all, and whatever moved them to tears had to be _devastating_. This sounded like that kind of despair.

There was only one heartbeat in the room, so Kala sidled up near the door and used her x-ray vision to peak inside. Her band had the whole end of the corridor, but that didn't sound like one of her boys…

It was _Derek_ , sitting on the hotel bed, looking at something in his hand. A picture frame, maybe? And crying, quietly but painfully.

Kala didn't know what to make of _that_ , and felt strangely ashamed to have caught the prickly tour manager in a vulnerable moment. If he had any idea she was up and listening, he'd _definitely_ bawl her out. She hurried out of the hotel, feeling uneasy, and soared up as soon as she was out of sight.

Sunlight made her feel _much_ better, and Kala basked in it for a few minutes before orienting on Metropolis. She flew at a leisurely pace, for her – not breaking the sound barrier. Finding Dad was easy: he was directly above the Daily Planet building, hovering in the light, his cape rippling in the breeze. It never failed to awe her to see him the way anyone else would, as the hero. For a moment, Kala just watched him, standing on a mile of empty air. Part of her would always be that little six-year-old girl, looking up at the sky and feeling a swell of wonder and pride as she thought, then and now, _That's_ _ **my**_ _daddy._

But the observation never lasted long. He heard her, of course; he always did. Kal-El could hear her heartbeat anywhere, and her heart hurt when he turned to smile at her. "Hey, munchkin," he called.

Whenever he did that, the little girl she once was wanted for all the world to run straight to him, to be swept up and swung around while he held her. No, she could never deny that she was her father's daughter from the first moment they'd met. "Hi, Daddy," Kala replied, and closed the distance to hug him. All of a sudden there was a lump in her throat. When she was wrapped up in the tour and the band and Jay and Gotham, she missed her family – but it was a distant kind of yearning. When she saw them again, though, it made her chest ache, immediate and painful. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too," Kal-El told her, kissing her hair. "Your mother's been worried. We actually managed to keep leftover cookies in the house for more than a day."

"I'll make sure to come by and clean out the fridge, then," she chuckled, leaning back to beam up at him. God, she'd missed this, missed him. "This tour is _insane_. Don't get me wrong, I _needed_ the summer in Gotham, but I'm paying for it now. With me not being in on the scheduling, they really f– wrecked us."

He laughed and rumpled her hair. "You might be named for me twice, Kala, but I _do_ know that you're your mother's daughter, too. And spending the summer in Gotham just activated the swearing gene. Especially when you're tired. Burning the candle at both ends, aren't you?"

How did he always know? And why did she always feel horrible for evading the truth when he asked her these things, even as an adult? Kala gave him her best wide-eyed look, as she always did in these instances. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, for one, you _look_ tired. And a little bird told me you've been on patrol in Gotham more nights than off." Kal-El looked at her mock-sternly.

She fought the urge to snort and scowl at her father. Well, she had known he was in regular contact with Dick, not to mention Bruce; it had never been the plan to keep her involvement in Gotham quiet, it was just her _extra_ -extra curricular activities that no one was supposed to know about. In particular, the one that was keeping her from her morning sunbath with the very man who was looking at her expectantly. "Oh, stop. I was off from there last night," she said. "I slept a whole seven hours after the concert, too. Be proud of me."

"Kala, most people need eight or nine hours," Kal-El told her. "Not that heroes or reporters or rock stars are known for sleeping in. And you _still_ look tired, which tells me how little sleep you've been getting lately."

If the scolding had come from Mom, she might have resented it even now, even just a little. But with Dad, it was almost impossible to get crabby about it. It always came from a place that was care and concern; Dad almost never judged, but he did worry. "I'm working on a tour, Daddy, which means I'm mostly nocturnal right now. Which means I haven't gotten as much sun as I need, which I mostly need more than sleep," Kala pointed out. "But I grabbed an hour in the ionosphere within the last week, I promise. " While recovering from Poison Ivy's kiss, but her dad _really_ didn't need to know about that. "I think my patterns are all still wonky from the summer, still. But I'll be fine."

He sighed and shook his head. "It's your life, munchkin. And I know you're living the dream. For you, anyway. Just don't forget to take some time to recharge along the way."

He was holding back from lecturing her further, she knew. Jason, at least, took proper care of himself. Ate three square meals a day, had a fairly predictable day job, and got plenty of sleep. Which wasn't too bad for a half-alien superhero, though. But Kal-El's little girl gave him fits, just like her own mother had years ago. "Well, it's not like Lizardboy is going to get all that much shut-eye in a few months, either, I promise you that, too." She smiled a little crookedly, loving him all the more. "It's a lot harder when you can't keep an eye on me, isn't it?"

"Oh, I still could," he laughed. "I'm just pretty sure I don't _want_ to. Sooner or later, as a parent, you learn that you have to give your kids room to grow. And, on that note, remember that the rest of the family loves and misses you. _All_ of us. Even your mother, who claims that she can finally eat her own gourmet truffles now without your expert help."

That got a laugh out of Kala, both of them grinning at each other. "She's just mad because I eat the Aztec Spice ones out of the assortment for her, " Kala said flippantly, her shrug almost gracious. "I do it for her own good."

"Kala, she's never even gotten the chance to try one because you always get there first!" her father laughed.

"That's because they'd be too hot for her," she protested, not even trying to hide her grin. "I'm doing her a _favor_ , Daddy!"

Kal-El just shook his head at her, the amused doubt written all over his face. "Your mother has been eating things twice as spicy as a Godiva spicy-cinnamon truffle since long before she laid eyes on me. She insisted on Phaal last week, when she knows I won't eat it. Nice try on that, though."

That necessitated a huge dramatic sigh and roll of eyes worthy of the woman herself. "Well, if she's going to be an ingrate about it…" Again, they shared a smile before Kala leaned in to kiss his cheek. "Tell her I miss her, too, and things will even out. The tour'll be over in a few months and things will be back to normal. Normal for us, anyway," Kala promised.

"I'm looking forward to it," Kal-El said with a smile.

There were no more words after that, just the pair of them soaking up the sun the way they used to every morning. All too soon, Kala had to break away with one more hug and kiss on the cheek.

Now for the third man in her life, if he wasn't already pretending to be someone else. She dropped back into cell tower range and texted Jay. _We still on?_

He replied with an address. _Headed there now._

It turned out to be a nondescript diner, but at least it wasn't a chain. Kala landed a few blocks away and walked up, glancing at the faded neon sign that said 'The Capital Diner & Grill'. Normally she shied away from hole-in-the-wall places, but she could smell eggs and bacon and sausage from the sidewalk, and it all smelled _delicious_. Not a hint of overused grease, it all smelled fresh.

Jay turned up right on time, scowling, but at the sight of her his expression brightened. "There's my girl," he said, and Kala wasn't prepared for the way her stomach flip-flopped at those words – but in a good way. It wasn't fair how far he'd gotten under her skin.

That thought in mind, she couldn't help the silly grin on her face when he opened the door for her. "Aww, such a gentleman."

"You know me, Princess. Anything for a lady." He smirked wickedly, and both of them laughed as they walked in.

The place wasn't too terribly busy, but it clearly did a brisk trade, and a middle-aged waitress looked up as the bells on the door chimed. "You again?" she said to Jay.

"Can't get rid of me," he replied lightly.

She wasn't sure why that exchange surprised her, but it did. With how generally anti-social he was, even with his own family, this was a change. "Wait, you have a favorite waitress?" Kala asked as they took a booth. "And you actually let other people see you by daylight? Is this allowed?"

"He shows up at three AM or noon, I didn't know he existed in what normal people call morning," the waitress said, sliding her a menu. "This the girlfriend? She's too good for ya."

Kala was about to protest, not sure how Jay would react to that, but didn't get the chance to speak before he piped up in answer. "I know, Mary," Jay replied, as Kala sat back a bit, before dissolving into shocked laughter. No one had called it that yet and it was kinda weird to hear; hell, they'd only called each other partners up to this point. Jay saw the flush in her cheeks and grinned. "She knows, too, but she likes slumming it on this side of town. This's the reason I came in here with my shirt on inside-out last month. And hey, don't I get a menu?"

" _Jay!_ " Kala hissed in utter disbelief, trying not to let her amazement show. Him acting _normal_ was just completely bizarre.

"If you don't know what we serve by now, you're too dumb to read it anyway," the waitress shot back. "Sweetheart, kick him under the table if he's being an ass. Nobody here'll see anything, I promise."

"No, he's fine, I just didn't know we were going to go there," she managed to say, still laughing a little as she stared at him. "Just … wow, Jay."

He just shrugged. "Yeah, well, partners with benefits sounds kinda crude. And Mary's right, you're too good for that. I'm gonna have the kitchen sink omelette. Wanna split a pot of coffee?"

 _As we venture further and further into the Twilight Zone._ "Sure," Kala said with a slow nod, incredulous and still trying to catch up.

"I'll get ya coffee, let the girl check the menu for a minute, you impatient brat," the waitress replied, and headed off.

Kala could only stare, and Jay tilted his head at her. "You all right?"

God, she could just hit him. Without a word, she snatched up a napkin, balled it up, and threw it at him. "All right? I don't know; I didn't know we were gonna act like … like normal people! What was _that_? Did we just put a _name_ to this?"

"Did you not want to?" he asked.

And he said it so casually, like it was as simple a choice to him as having the toast or pancakes with his omelette. Like it was no big deal, after they'd danced around it so long. That brought down the hilarity, Kala just blinking at him as her brain froze. "I thought _you_ didn't want to."

He leaned toward her and whispered, "I'm fucking _Supergirl_. And a super-hot rockstar called KLK. Fuck _yes_ , I'll put some kind of name on that. I mean, we're _partners_ , that means a helluva lot more than just brunch dates and sex, but you can't say that to civvies and have them understand."

Kala just sat there a moment, shaking her head at him in astonishment before she had to laugh a little, trying to come to grips. Yeah, so _that_ happened. With no warning at all. Like most of her life. "Yeah, okay, point. So … give me a minute to catch up to acting like civilians. And figure out what to eat." Part of her wanted to pay attention to this moment, to everything implied beneath his words. Most of her knew that being overt would start Jay acting nervous and standoffish again. _Just let it be what it is,_ she told herself.

"You're not allergic to anything, are you?" Jay asked. "The kitchen sink omelette's pretty good. It has everything."

Kala chuckled at the memory of macrobiotic shakes. "These days, that really is not a problem, I'm glad to say. Not a fan of onions, though, and I only like bell peppers raw."

"Oh, picky eater," Jay said, nodding.

Yep, should've expected that. He was now two for two on trolling. She stuck her tongue out at him. "That's not _picky_. Picky would be ordering it all on the side and making it myself."

"Good thing you're not picky, they'd probably season it with some floor sauce," he scoffed.

She snorted at that, knowing full well what that meant, finally perusing the menu. Mary returned with two cups and a large pot of coffee. "Sweetheart, did he give you a chance to look over the menu?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna have an omelette, too. I just can't decide between the Billy Goat and the Little Goat," she said apologetically. "I love bacon, but I love portobellos too."

"So get a Billy and add the 'shrooms," Mary said with a shrug. "Hash browns, grits, or fruit?"

"Hash browns. And pancakes for my other side, thanks," Kala said, beaming.

"Your usual, right?" Mary said to Jay, and bustled off when he nodded.

Kala found herself glancing at him for a moment, re-acclimating. He fixed her with a serious, intent stare, and said, "You're blowing your cover, K. No normal person eats _goat cheese_ in an omelette."

"Then why is it on the menu, smartass?" she shot back.

"It's a trap for weirdos, Goth singers, and aliens," Jay murmured, his eyes dancing, and she did kick him under the table then.

…

If Jay had known how entirely nonplussed Kala would be just by interacting in a civilian setting, he would've taken her on a date a long time ago. Shit, probably over the summer.

Nah, scratch that, they were still training then. If he'd brought her here with a black eye, Mary might poison his coffee. He'd known women like Mary from his childhood in the Bowery. Most of them carried a half-brick in their purse to discourage muggers. Generally by walloping the poor bastards upside the head with it. A swung purse was a deadly weapon around here.

He didn't let himself think about how bringing Kala _here_ was bringing her into his world in a fundamental way that no one else ever did. Sure, he and Rose had scarfed down meals in diners, but not in _his_ diner in _his_ neighborhood. There was no way you'd ever catch Donna in a place like this, it just wasn't her deal – she wasn't elitist in that way, but he always wanted to impress her. Crushes were weird like that. And Talia, hell, she'd burn it to the ground while muttering about dysentery. Then again, given the option, Talia would probably burn most of the Bowery to the ground.

Kala just … fit. Here, on the street, in his apartment, and in the Manor. He could imagine her fitting right in someplace with four Michelin stars and a dress code, too. She fit perfectly into the rock star world, living on a tour bus and in hotels, singing her heart out on a stage in front of thousands of fans. Maybe that was the Super in her, that she could stand literally outside the atmosphere and look at the whole damn planet as home.

And she derailed all the deep thinking he was trying not to do by saying, "I'm _dying_ for decent pancakes. I haven't had anything but hotel 'complimentary breakfast' pancakes since Alfred made them. I didn't even get Dopey or Dad to make some while I was home for a week. God, sometimes I forget how much I miss eating real food."

Jay grinned at her. "Could be worse. You could be eating ramen noodles."

"I _do_ ," she shot back. "Fun fact: you can make ramen in a hotel room coffeemaker. Or on a tour bus. The East Coast part of the tour isn't that bad, we're in hotels a lot because the distances aren't too far, but when we go across the middle of the country it gets into long hours on the road. It takes two days to cross Texas."

"I'm happy to admit I've never been to Texas," Jay said. "California, Washington state, the whole northeast practically, not to mention the U.K., Serbia, Pakistan, Hong Kong, fuckin' Siberia. But not Texas."

Kala snorted laughter. "It's not _terrible._ You're thinking it's all cowboy boots and country music. The middle of the state is really pretty. Just stay _way_ away from the oil fields. Ugh. Smells horrible. But Austin is a lot of fun, and Houston's cool too."

"Next you're gonna try to sell me on California, and that ain't happenin'," Jay laughed.

They bantered back and forth until the food arrived, Kala raising her eyebrows at Jay's enormous omelette. "I see you got mushrooms and bacon too," she said.

"No spinach, no goat cheese," he shot back. "Peppers, onions, ham, and cheddar. It's a complete meal."

As they settled in to eat, Jay worked out how to update her. "So, turns out you could've come in on last night's job," he said.

"Oh?" she said, raising her eyebrows. "She faked you out?"

"Kinda," Jay admitted. They both knew who 'she' was in that sentence, and he'd rather not drop too many names in public. "The dropoff went as planned, we got two of her guys and all of Roman's. But when we opened the crate, it was empty."

Kala swore under her breath, those hazel eyes stormy, and Jay couldn't help grinning. "Yeah, pretty much what I said."

"I can't stand people who think in corkscrews," Kala growled. "She made the deal, told you about it, made you guess where it was coming in, and then _never sent it_? That's just … sixteen levels of shady."

Jay shrugged. "It's a black market. That stuff is _always_ shady. And it's everywhere. I can take you to three different places in this town where you can buy guns with the serial numbers filed off. I know where to get rocket launchers, grenades, full-auto rifles, all that good shit. Hell, there's a guy downtown selling plastique and other stuff that goes 'boom' to a very select and trusted clientele."

"Yikes," Kala managed to say, looking as green as her spinach. "I mean, I know that goes on, but I don't think of it happening near me."

"'Cause you have a normal life outside of this crazy shit," Jay told her, pausing to wash down a bite of omelette with coffee. "I grew up watching the drug trade all around me. Trafficking is trafficking, it's all the same hustle, just different products, different jargon. There's not too big a difference between people cooking meth and people cooking acetone peroxide. Speaking of which, your two new friends? The ones with the really scary dogs?"

She looked at him quizzically, then her eyes narrowed. "Still pissed about the one trying to make a move on me. What about them?"

He smirked at her choice of words. "That's how they got out. Managed to scrape together enough of the right chemicals to make acetone peroxide. I could do it, too, it's not hard. Just dangerous as hell. That stuff likes to explode if you look at it wrong. All the movies make you think dynamite's bad; I'd sleep on dynamite before I'd get near acetone peroxide. But those two are nuts enough to try it."

Kala just shook her head. "Any word on finding them?"

"Nope," Jay said, locking down on the urge to grind his teeth. Neither he nor Kala would forgive the attempt at mind control anytime soon. But Harley and Ivy wouldn't lay low forever, they'd step into the limelight and shortly thereafter, both be in custody again. "They won't be in hiding long. I'm more worried about what the rest are brewing up."

"Same," Kala said, poking at her omelette. "Also worried about you going deep-cover. I don't like open-ended stuff."

"Me neither," he said darkly. "I can usually sniff out what I need to in a week or so. If it goes more than two weeks, I'll try something else. These idiots don't realize that any of us can pass for one of them, so it's a damn good tactic."

"And dangerous, Jay," Kala told him softly. "I've patrolled with you, I've seen the statistics become reality. I know, you're gonna tell me that you're the most dangerous thing out there, but dammit, you're not bulletproof."

It was uncanny, sometimes, the way she pulled the words right out of his mouth before he said them. She knew him too damn well, that was all. K could see right through him. Part of Jay still bristled at that thought. Most of him was getting used to it. Liking it, even. There was something to be said for being seen and known and accepted anyway, fucked up as he was.

So instead of arguing, he grinned at her, pointing with his fork. "I'm not the most dangerous thing out there, K. _You_ are."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Riiiiight. Pull the other one, Jay."

"I'm serious," he said, glad to get her off that conversational track. "I might have a longer rap sheet, but you've got more potential. You only think you're safer because you know you _won't_ do most of the things you _could_ do. I'm still counting all the stuff that's possible."

Partly because, if she went Empress and all his new tricks failed, they had to account for that. This was the other reason Bruce didn't like metas in Gotham. They were hard to train, and if they went off the rails, it could get ugly _fast_. Luckily he figured he had three or four ways of handling her dark side, and the Empress herself was curious enough about the Red Hood that he could buy time to find more ways.

Jay thought back to something Babs had told him, about dichotomies. Bruce and the Bat were almost different people, the way Kala and the Empress were. But he was always himself, Hood and Todd. Jay didn't feel a sharp line between the guy scarfing down pancakes and hash browns, and the guy who'd busted Mask's goons last night.

Was it because he'd grown up without really having a civilian life? His dad had been a crook, then he was in the trade, and he'd become Robin at thirteen. No room in there for normality. His only stable relationships had either died on him, like his mom, or he'd mostly died on them, like Alfred and Bruce.

Since he'd come back, it never felt like he was two people. He was just _himself_ , from the top of the helmet to soles of his boots. And everybody he knew well knew him as both. Mary was a nice waitress, sure, but she didn't even know his last name. She didn't count.

Whereas K had a whole family, half of which were civilians, and a civilian band, and civilian _fans_. He'd envy her the normality if he had any idea what it was like to be normal. And if he didn't know she'd also envy him the ability to just be himself, never hide what he was or what he did.

Kala leaned forward and tapped his fork with hers. "You in there, Jay? For a second you got all introspective on me."

"Nah, that's just indigestion," he lied, and Kala kicked him lightly under the table.

…

She didn't believe him in the slightest. Jay was thinking some heavy thoughts, and Kala could only speculate on what they were.

He so casually tossed off comments about her _normal_ life, and part of her wanted to correct that. She only _faked_ normal. Kala had been hearing conversations several rooms – then blocks, then _miles_ – away since she was six. Since she'd hit her teens, she could outrun a car, then outfly a fighter jet. Hell, now in her twenties her invulnerability had developed to where she couldn't even bleach her _hair_ to change its color.

Not once had she ever been _normal_. Sure, her family was a lot healthier and more functional than his, but then, most families were. Healthy functional people didn't put on costumes and go out into the night to beat up bad guys. The only exception were metahumans, and even then, it was hard to be a completely mentally healthy metahuman in a world not made for them.

Everyone in her family loved each other, though. They stuck up for each other. They did their best for each other. Everyone made mistakes, sometimes they fought and things could get ugly, but they always managed to find their way back to each other. In that sense, maybe, she was normal and Jay wasn't. Because despite the powers and the psycho villains, she'd still been able to grow up with all the trappings of normalcy. Saturday morning cartoons and family dinners and rolling her eyes at Mom and Dad making kissy-faces at each other.

In that way, sure, maybe she was normal and he wasn't. It all came down to what mattered most to the person making the comparison, and as was typical, each of them envied what the other had. Kala scoffed under her breath; in school, she'd always looked longingly at girls with pin-straight hair than hung neat and glossy, while her own wavy hair tended to acquire a mind of its own with a little humidity or breeze. It had been a revelation to her to find out those girls envied her the volume and body and curl of her own hair, finding it more beautiful than their own. Maybe she and Jay were both eyeing each other's versions of normalcy – her having a normal family, him _being_ a normal human – and forgetting to appreciate what they each had.

"You're a douche," she finally told him, with a small smile.

"At least you stopped calling me a dick," Jay chortled. "Starting to give me a complex there, K."

"Knock it off, I know which brother I'm dealing with," she shot back. "And last I checked, I call you an asshole more than I call you a dick."

"Yeah, but 'asshole' is like a pet name now," Jay teased.

Kala just shook her head. "Sure, Jay. Only you would take that as an affectionate nickname. Besides, do you _really_ think I can't tell one dark-haired blue-eyed pretty boy from another? I'd be worried about you having issues with me and Lady Sparkle-Hair, if that were the case."

He had to pause to swallow the bite of omelette before replying. "One, I've got like forty pounds of pure muscle on Dickie-Bird. I'm taller, too. He's prettier, though, I'll give him that. Two, you and Donna are about the same height, but she doesn't curse like you do. And you're louder in bed."

That was unexpected enough to have her choking on her hash browns. Kala kicked him under the table again, blushing. " _Really?"_

"Just tellin' the truth," Jay laughed.

They kept to lighter topics while they finished the food in leisurely time, and Kala let herself just enjoy this. A few stolen moments outside the tour, the band, and the mask. All too soon, it was over, and they left a generous tip before heading out. Stepping outside the diner, Kala tipped her head up to the sun. Beside her, Jay just winced, shading his own gaze. "Ow. This is why I don't go out in the daytime."

"And they call _me_ a dramatic Goth girl," she teased, never opening her eyes as the light poured through her.

Jay nudged her arm, chuckling. "Hey. Since this is a date and all. Wanna come back to my place? If you have time, that is."

Oh, it was so dorky, but Kala couldn't resist giving him the most innocent look in her arsenal. "On the first date? Jay, what kind of girl do you think I am?" she replied coquettishly.

"The kind who left glitter all over my bike," he answered with a wolfish grin.

"And whose fault was _that_ , Mr. Impatient?" she shot back, lofting her brows with a twitch of her lips.

"I'm not complaining. Just saying. If I'm goin' undercover and I won't see you for a week or two, I'd like another dent in my apartment wall and some hickies to remember you by."

Kala scoffed, but it was just for show. It was probably much more complicated on her part, leaving her unsettled in a way she didn't like, but she was going to miss him, too. A little reminder would be very welcome. "In the middle of the day?"

He looped his arm around her waist, tugging her close to his side. "Ever heard of a _nooner_?"

"Heathen. Besides, your ass is usually just waking _up_ at noon," she laughed, grinning up at him. "Gimme a break."

"Yeah, and I got up early to take a hot girl to brunch. The least you can do is be dessert."

"Don't say it," she told him hurriedly, her look pointedly exasperated, seeing the mischief in his eyes. Utterly impossible man. If he compared her to sunlight right now…

"Aw, but saying it always ends so well," he laughed, catching her chin. Then he did something surprising; his tone and expression went briefly serious. "C'mon, K. I don't care what time it is, I just want you before I have to let you go for a while."

For a moment, Kala couldn't breathe. The moments, when they came with Jay, were always unexpected and enough to rock her to her foundations. He had all but said it. She gave a small laugh and looked down, sighing heavily. God help her. God freaking help her. "Well, when you put it like that…"

"Keep protesting, I'll throw you over my shoulder and carry you off," he taunted back.

"As if you would ever have to, Big Bad. As if you would ever have to."


	64. I Know I'm a Wolf

**Authors' Note:** Be forewarned, this chapter contains some domestic violence and physical abuse in the final section.

* * *

Unbeknownst to the women themselves, Ms. Li and Mercy Graves were both rolling their eyes in long-suffering impatience at the exact same time, and for similar reasons.

Black Mask was confined to a cell, but rage and adrenaline lent him sufficient strength that he'd managed to rip the cot free from the wall. Since he'd been on the phone with Ms. Li, at the time and she'd just informed him of the seized kryptonite, she got to hear both his subsequent wrathful meltdown … and the guards bursting in to sedate him. On the whole, that was for the best. Once he was calmer, she'd tell him that Talia al Ghul had agreed to a partial refund of the advance payment.

Lex Luthor was somewhat more restrained, having only swept his desk clear before pacing the room in a fine fury. Stanford had of course bolted at the first hint of trouble, but Mercy sat impassively in the chair across his desk and examined her nails while he raged. "Who the _hell_ thinks they can cross me?" Lex snarled.

Unfortunately, Mercy had no concrete information for him. She had suspicions, however, and while those carried no weight with Lex, she privately thought it was _past_ time to cut ties with a certain supposed immortal and his duplicitous daughter.

…

They took Jay's car back to the apartment building's garage, but when Jay would've headed for the elevator, Kala caught his arm. "If you're going undercover, I need to make sure you're gonna be all right without me here to watch you," she said, her eyes sparkling. And then she tugged him toward the training room. "C'mon, show me the Big Bad Hood can hold his own."

"Probably a good idea," Jay said lightly, though his pulse had started beating harder. He let her pull him toward the training room, grinning. "I might've gone all soft, you know, living the good life. I even have a girlfriend now."

That had her beaming that dangerous little smile of hers at him, already ditching her jacket on the way. "Better enjoy the thought now, because your girlfriend's gonna kick your ass in about two minutes," Kala promised, and he laughed.

"See, that's the thing, I'm the sick fuck that looks forward to it," Jay taunted back.

Even her voice was taking on the dark tone that meant he was in for the best kind of trouble. "Definitely twisted. Thankfully it's one of the things I like about you, Mr. Hood."

The minute they crossed the threshold, she sprang away from him, and Jay threw himself to one side. This was nuts, they weren't wearing uniforms or training clothes, and he was lightly armed with only three knives and a gun. Kala was wearing street clothes – but he felt the air pressure change as she strafed the spot where he would've been, and they were _on_.

Jay was going for his weapons rack, but he dropped and rolled again, feeling her pass by overhead. "Missed," he laughed, drawing the gun.

She had it before he could fire, and then she had him by the shirtfront, soaring up to the ceiling. "Don't you dare. No shooting when I'm not in uniform," Kala scolded. "I can't explain bullet holes in my clothes to my tour manager, you jerk."

"Then learn to dodge faster," Jay teased. He didn't have a lot of options for breaking her hold, other than stabbing her, so Jay chose distraction instead. He grabbed Kala's ass with both hands, giving a healthy squeeze that widened her eyes, and then pushed forward into her grip to steal a kiss.

Now _this_ was nice, he'd never done the whole mid-air kiss thing before, and the taste of her lips was a great distraction from the emptiness beneath his feet. And it gave him a couple moments of advantage, as Kala focused on his mouth and nothing else. There was that purring little moan he loved to hear, Kala's hand curling into his hair. He slid one hand up to the small of her back, holding her close, while the other was busy. When she drew back, her eyes wicked, Jay smirked at her. "Put us down and call round one a draw," he told her.

"Why?" she asked, her voice husky. "This quick? We haven't sparred in a while. Just because we're sleeping together doesn't mean I'm gonna take it easy on you, Red."

"Me, neither," Jay chuckled, and let her feel the point of his kris at her back. "You can survive getting stabbed in the spleen, but we'd both hit the floor. So, draw."

The look of shock on her pretty face was worth it. He'd honestly got the drop on her. "Sneaky bastard," Kala laughed, giving in with a roll of her eyes and floating to the ground.

He barely had time to step back before she _pasted_ him, hitting him with super-speed. The kris went flying, Jay landed hard on his back, and Kala grinned fiercely as she pinned him down. He couldn't even be mad about it when she smelled like flowers and candy, and felt like heaven. " _This_ isn't a draw. Round two's for me," she proclaimed.

Laughing, Jay let her hold him down, not even trying to struggle. "Let's be real, K, if you actually wanted to take me down, I'd be a smear. All those damn powers make it pretty uneven. You wanna play, let's _play_. No flying, no speed, just fight. Not much else on the Gotham streets is as badass as you at full power, anyway."

Kala grinned at that, the smile he usually saw beneath her domino right before she lunged into the fray and smacked some thugs around. "Fine by me. We both know I can handle you," she purred.

"I'm counting on you _handling_ me a little later, Princess," Jay replied with a leer. They got up and stepped apart, circling, Jay watching for an opening. Without her powers, Kala wouldn't go for her favorite fancy kicks; he'd knocked that out of her, grabbing her ankles and bonking her against walls when they'd trained. But he still had the advantage of size and weight and reach…

She came in fast, maybe a _touch_ of speed but there were no rules on the streets, and Jay blocked her knife-hand strike at his throat, caught her next punch with his shoulder, then bore in for a sucker punch of his own. Kala barely evaded that, quick sharp kicks at his ankle and knee as she spun past him, and he grabbed for the chokehold. She got the transition _just_ right, her foot hooking behind his and a shift of her weight, then he was smacked flat on the mats as she crowed triumph.

Short-lived, because he grabbed her ankle and just yanked her down; sometimes it sucked being a lightly-built woman. Kala cursed as Jay swarmed up her body, trying to pin her, and then it was all scuffling, knees and elbows on the ground as they struggled for advantage. Growling and laughing at the same time, she smacked him across the face and twisted her hips and got him under her for a brief minute.

Not long enough to pin his hands, though, and Jay grabbed a fistful of her shirt and jerked her down again, first for a kiss, then to roll her under him again. Kala bit his lip and squirmed and bucked, but to be honest, he'd rather lost interest in fighting at that point. Jay rucked up her shirt, and as Kala twisted under him, he dipped down to kiss her belly. Warm and soft with the tension of muscle under her skin, the sense that she could definitely go from tender and ticklish to steel-spring bouncing bullets off in under a second. And damn did he love that.

"Cheater," Kala hissed, grabbing his shoulders and slinging him off of her.

"You, too," Jay laughed. "We said no powers."

" _You_ said no powers," Kala growled, her eyes sparking red, and holy fuck she'd just zapped his shirt at the shoulders, so it fell right off when she grabbed it. Jay never even felt the heat, and for a guy who'd been damn nervous about that heat vision, he was learning to appreciate it pretty damn quick.

Of course, his shirt was wrecked, but that wasn't an issue. He had plenty of shirts. Keeping things evenly matched, now, that _was_ pretty important to him, and even if she'd taken his kris, Jay had plenty of knives that would cut her clothes and not her skin. Jay let her pin him again, let her steal his mouth for a searing kiss, and sliced her shirt from neck to hip in one quick sweep of the blade.

Kala gasped, her eyes going wide, startled by the suddenness of it. Her blouse fell across him, cut wide open, her back bared to the chill air here in the garage. And yet, as much as it surprised her, she leaned into him, skin to skin, hers hotter than his. Always.

"Bastard, I said no bullet holes so you cut the whole damn shirt apart," Kala growled, swatting that knife away and pinning him down, this time with a sense of finality.

Jay just grinned. Her breath was already coming fast, hazel eyes darkening. Oh, he was in for one hell of a ride this time. "Guilty as charged. Whatcha gonna do about it, K?"

She let go of one of his hands just long enough to throw her shirt aside – ripping the other arm all the way through as she did. "Make sure you're a low-down dirty-fighting cheating bastard with a damn good _reason_ to survive going undercover," she proclaimed. And kissed him like she meant to fuck him straight through the mats.

Which Jay was absolutely okay with. Better four months late than never. God damn. If Babs tried to cockblock him this time, he'd shoot the comm link. He managed to think that, remembering the last time he and Kala had gotten rough on these mats, and still somehow didn't remember that Babs still had _cameras_ in here.

…

Babs wasn't paying any attention to Jay at the moment. She was decrypting the emails flying back and forth at Guyot-Perrin. "That's weird," she muttered, reading quickly.

"You've said that five times," Helena remarked, sitting nearby with her crossbow disassembled for an upgrade. "With five different inflections. Which is rather an achievement for two simple syllables."

"Well, it's really strange," Babs said. "They're avoiding saying _what_ the problem is, just that the samples are corrupted. It smells like outright panic. Did she go and shortchange them, too? That makes _no_ sense, she wouldn't fight to get that contract and then sink it…"

"Everyone loves it when you talk to yourself, babe," Dinah called, strolling into the room. "Still analyzing last night's fiasco?"

"I admire a well-executed triple-cross," Helena put in. "I just wish we weren't the ones being fooled by it."

Babs sighed and pushed back from the console. "I've been neglecting Guyot-Perrin in favor of the kryptonite drop. The emails I'm reading are a couple of days old, but whatever this is, it's ongoing. Basically their entire R&D department is going crazy, all the test data is abruptly skewed, and the panic has been spreading up the chain of command to the point where the CEO is planning to divest himself of his own company's stock."

"That's … not good," Dinah said. "Didn't you say some of our people were planning to throw a wrench in their works? Maybe you should check with Bruce."

"Yes, but not so soon. Besides, you know how much I hate having to ask him for information," Babs sighed. "I'd much rather be the one _giving_ him intel."

"Knowledge is power," Helena chuckled, and Babs shot her an arch look.

"All right, you're both right," Babs sighed. She sent a quick coded text to Bruce, guessing he might be at breakfast and not wanting to interrupt with a call.

…

He wasn't at breakfast, though. Bruce had gone over to Park Row, _not_ in uniform, and had knocked on Selina's door instead of picking the lock. She opened it a few moments later, mussed and sleepy-eyed and looking entirely innocent. "Well hello there," she purred, smiling. "I didn't realize I'd signed up for beefcake delivery. Come on in, handsome."

"This is business, Selina," he told her gruffly.

She rolled her eyes, but let him in, locking the door behind him. "If it's business, I won't offer you a drink," she said, padding barefoot past him to the bar in front of her apartment's tiny kitchen. Selina hopped up on a barstool and returned to sipping a tall glass of milk. "So what business are you here on, Mr. Wayne?"

"You said you went out of town last night," he said. "Do you have any proof of that?"

She stopped the cute and charming act abruptly, giving him an imperious glare. Bruce had come to stand in the middle of the living room, arms folded, and he noted the slight movement in his peripheral vision as several of the cats stalked in, all staring at him. Her favorite, the green-eyed black cat she called Miss Kitty, leapt up to the counter by Selina and sat tall like an Egyptian relic come to life, her tail wrapped around her feet, giving Bruce a look that judged him harshly.

When he didn't respond to the rebuke, Selina narrowed her eyes. "As a matter of fact, I do. Ask your bestie. He saw me in Metropolis last night. Good guy, knows not to ask too many prying questions to a woman who's clearly busy shopping."

"At the mall? Or the art museum?" Bruce asked.

Miss Kitty opened her tiny pink mouth and hissed, showing teeth sharp as needles. Selina just smiled coldly. "At the mall. I play games with _you_ , Bat. Supes is nowhere near as much fun – but I like him well enough. Even if he _is_ a dog person. And anyway, he would've _stopped_ me shopping at the museum, or his wife would've. I saw Lois, too. We really should go on another double date, you know? She's fun. Given the right circumstances, I bet I could talk Lois Lane into throwing on some spandex and kicking ass all through this town."

"Absolutely not," Bruce said, imagining the vapors Clark would have. And not mentioning that Lois' _daughter_ was doing enough of that. "We're all very fortunate that Lois is a civilian."

"Yeah, if she was in the game, she'd take it over," Selina chortled. "So why'd you come in all fired up at _me_? I wasn't even in Gotham last night. What went missing?"

"There aren't many people who can break into WayneTech's Research and Development facility," he said. "You're one of the very few."

She shrugged. "I'll take that as a compliment. I _am_ the world's greatest thief, you know. But it's not _impossible_ to get into WayneTech. It's up there with, hmm, not _quite_ Fort Knox. Definitely up there, though. Whoever broke in wasn't an amateur."

Bruce sighed, realization breaking over him. "I have a bad feeling I know who's behind this. Some of their people were in town, anyway. And they can hire professionals."

"Who was it?" Selina asked, and when he didn't answer, she rolled her eyes. "Fine, be mysterious. What'd they take?"

Bruce turned away, not intending to answer either of those questions, but there was a large fluffy black cat sitting right behind him, and it meowed rustily at him. Selina chirruped at it. "C'mere, Captain Morrigan, let the big bad Bat keep his secrets. Not like he owes me a favor for having accused _me_ of stealing from him."

He was about to argue when a still larger cat, this one smooth-coated, darted into the room and _mrrowed_ loudly. Selina laughed. "No, Batty, no one called you."

"You named a cat _Batty_?" Bruce said, turning back with an arch expression.

"Someone has to mock you, darling," Selina laughed. "But no. She was named for her looks. Her father must've been Siamese, she had a head like a fruit bat when she was a kitten. Also she's … _definitely_ different. Aren't you, sweetheart?"

The big cat made her strange rolling meow again, and sprang at Bruce, clawing her way up his slacks without ever pricking his skin. He was taken aback enough that she got to his shoulder and sniffed his face before he could react. "Careful, she licks," Selina said, right before the cat did so, a rough tongue scraping his cheek.

Bruce couldn't help himself, chuckling as he tried to pluck the cat off his jacket. "How many cats do you own, Selina?"

"I don't _own_ any of them," she corrected. "There are a lot of cats who know this is a good place to get fed, to get help if they're hurt, or to have their kittens. Some of them stick around. Miss Kitty, of course, Batty and her sisters, Mouser and the Captain, little Jinx and Smoky, a couple more."

Each paw he gently unhooked from his jacket was replaced by another, the big cat looking more and more nervous, until Selina hopped down and came over to rescue him. "She doesn't like being held," she explained, taking the cat's scruff and supporting her back feet. And the moment she was completely unstuck, Selina let her go, Batty jumping down and indignantly grooming herself everywhere they'd touched her. Selina chuckled, looking at her, and then caught Bruce's gaze. "Most cats only want to be held when it's their idea. If you try to pin them down, at best you'll annoy them. At worst, they'll draw blood. It's really not a good idea to try to make a cat do something it doesn't want to."

"I know," Bruce said. He knew perfectly well the parallel she was drawing; cats didn't like being shut out, either. And then, with a sigh, he told her, "Whoever broke into WayneTech stole some highly controlled samples of Kryptonian solar technology."

Selina froze, her eyes wide. " _Solar_ technology? I mean, I know he gets his powers from the sun, but I didn't know they had _tech_."

Bruce just grinned humorlessly. "Kryptonian crystals can harness and store solar energy. WayneTech was developing it for public release; properly applied, it could lessen the world's dependence on fossil fuels. Luthor's already using the crystals in multiple applications through L-Tech, and we know he's going for solar. We hoped to beat him to market, or at least force him to compete fairly with authorized products."

Selina winced. " _Dammit_. Bat … I wasn't just shopping in Metropolis."

He could only stare. "Selina…?"

"Luthor's one of the bad guys!" she exclaimed, defensive. "Bad guys are fair game. And he's a complete asshole, anyway."

"You stole something from L-Tech?" Bruce asked, keeping his tone tightly controlled.

"Yeah, a solar panel off the roof," she said, looking annoyed. "And some files from his computer. It was a contract job, Bruce. A girl's gotta buy cat food _somehow_. We weren't all born to trust funds and silver spoons and a freakin' family butler."

Bruce took a deep breath. There was no point at all in remonstrating with her; Selina had no remorse for her thefts. She never stole from anyone who could actually be _hurt_ by it, and sometimes gave away her spoils to those less fortunate. So he didn't waste his time or hers by berating her.

Instead he told her the only thing she would regret. "I think Talia was behind both thefts. She and her father are backing a firm that leased crystals from L-Tech to develop them for commercial solar power applications. And she had people in Gotham last night, even though she was in Paris."

Selina arched a brow at him. "She's the one selling kryptonite to Sionis? That's pretty damn bold."

"She cut us in," Bruce replied. "And as it turns out, she never shipped the kryptonite. The crate was empty. We got two of the League's foot soldiers, but they've already made bail. It would've been easy for her to find someone who could get into WayneTech and slip them in at the same time."

Selina nodded. "Smart. I was hired by a man calling himself Adem, but she would know I wouldn't work for her directly. The goods were mailed; I don't keep tracking numbers, it's incriminating."

Bruce sighed. "Then that's a quadruple-cross, I suppose. She stole from me, she used you to steal from Luthor, she delivered Mask's men into our hands, and she kept the kryptonite."

"Yeah, you have to get up real early to put one over on the Demon's Daughter," Selina sighed, strolling back to the bar. Miss Kitty chirped, and Selina picked her up, turning back to Bruce. "Or you just have to be _really_ _good_ at what you do," Selina added, holding her cat, and only then did he see the diamond bracelet Miss Kitty wore as a collar.

Bruce recognized that bracelet too easily. He'd last seen it on Talia's wrist when her arm was draped across his bare chest. "Selina, did you take that from her over the summer?"

"It'll teach her not to make me her errand girl," Selina promised. "Of course, now I have to take something bigger than jewelry, since she had the gall to _hire_ me."

"Selina…" Bruce warned, but she cut him off.

"I'm a big girl, Bruce, I can take care of myself," she said breezily. "Now, if you _really_ want to level the playing field, you could hire me to sneak back into L-Tech and bring you all their research. I might even give you the friends and family discount."

"If Luthor knows that's been stolen, it'll be much more dangerous now," Bruce replied, shaking his head. "Luthor is … not rational about Kryptonians. And he has the means and the will to make his security lethal. I won't risk you, Selina."

She sighed, leaning back against the bar. "Charming sentiment, Bruce, but you never let me have any _fun_."

…

In Paris, Talia sipped good burgundy and listened to Hugo Perrin prattle nervously on as they awaited the last course of a very good meal in one of the city's finest restaurants. She interrupted him when he told her the latest round of tests were going well. " _C'est vraiment?_ That is not what your internal emails have said."

He blinked at her, and then drew in a breath to be outraged. "How did you gain access…?"

"Please do not bother to pretend indignation," she told him. "We both how this game is played. You have people investigating L-Tech and Wayne Industries. I had people investigating your firm – and you can be certain that L-Tech and Wayne Industries are both keeping a careful eye on everything you do. So. The truth?"

The CEO of Guyot-Perrin sighed and straightened his tie. Talia might pity him more, forced to lay all his cards on the table, if she didn't know he had a wife and two children waiting at home while he indulged in such extravagant 'business dinners' to which somehow only _she_ was invited. Perrin finally said, "The samples we leased from L-Tech are … corrupted, somehow. They simply stopped holding a charge. All of them, all at once, just the other morning. Without those proprietary crystals, our research cannot proceed."

Talia nodded, and swirled her glass thoughtfully. "Did L-Tech ever inform you of the origin of those crystals?"

"No," he replied, too quickly, and his gaze bored too intently into hers. A good liar, then, accustomed to falsifying earnestness. Too bad for him that she was an even better liar, one who only told the truth … but carefully selected _which_ truths, and how she shaded them, to lead her target to only the conclusions _she_ wanted.

"They are not of this Earth," Talia told him, and saw his eyes widen. Whoever he'd brokered this deal with at L-Tech had told him that much, at least, but he'd expected it to remain a secret from virtually everyone else. "There are precious few sources of that crystal available. L-Tech computer chips are made from it, and WayneTech has some similar computing applications as well. But the _originals_ … those are hard to find."

"How do you know this?" Perrin asked.

"Did you really think I was just some rich man's daughter?" Talia chuckled, and watched him pale. "You knew what you were dealing with when you saw these crystals' potential. You knew they were stolen from their rightful owner. You may even have known you were dealing with an internationally-wanted criminal who was still blindly arrogant enough to name his company after his initial. So do not attempt to develop a conscience now, m'sieur. You are already in far too deep."

With that, she reached into the briefcase she'd brought and dropped four pages in front of him. One glance, and he snatched them up, folding them while trying to see who around their table might've caught a glimpse of the pages. "I see that you know how strictly France enforces its regulations on insider trading."

"For God's sake, keep your voice down," he hissed, though she'd spoken softly.

"For your own sake, be silent and listen," Talia replied. "And stop trying to sell off your stock in your own company, you fool. You are going to end this a very wealthy man, instead of an imprisoned one, if you only have the courage to stay the course."

His shoulders stiffened at first, defensive pride, but he had little recourse. With a sigh, he leaned forward. "Very well, go on."

Talia smiled. "What Luthor has done is simply the equivalent of the software updates certain very proprietary companies release from time to time. You have adolescent children; have you never heard them discuss the act of 'jailbreaking' an iPhone?"

"Yes, and I informed them it's quite illegal," he said stiffly.

"Exactly. Because no matter how steep the price you paid for one of those phones, you do not _own_ it. Installing software the manufacturer does not want leads to a conflict with future updates, which renders the entire phone useless. That is what Luthor has done to you. He does not actually want you to make any progress on this project; not only does he not care in the slightest whether the world continues burning _coal_ for energy until we shroud the planet entirely in fumes, he also cannot stand for anyone to better him. So, he rendered your samples inoperable."

Perrin scowled. "I cannot say I'm entirely surprised. I was assured that Luthor himself is no longer involved in L-Tech … but I was also told _you_ had entirely legitimate and aboveboard credentials and goals."

She gave him a predatory smile. "And you have been so very aboveboard, have you not, Hugo? Did you ever inform your _wife_ that the liaison with my father's firm was replaced by an attractive woman younger than herself?"

There was no answer to that, except a dull red flush creeping up his neck. Talia let the topic drop, returning to purely business. "As it happens, I also know that Wayne Industries only wanted to delay you. I may currently be the only representative in this little game who wishes to see the technology _used_. It could be an enormous boon for the entire world."

"That is what this firm set out to do, in the beginning," Perrin said at last. "Hydroelectric, geothermal, and wind energy sources all have their limits. Solar is the most direct way of harnessing power; it is the future."

"Thus speaks a visionary," Talia said. He'd been firmly put in his place; to keep him from turning sullen, she would have to indulge his ego a little, even before she showed him the way out of his current predicament. "You were in the midst of a promising avenue of research. The only barrier is the lack of materials. As it so happens, I have samples from two different sources, which are guaranteed _not_ to suddenly turn non-functional at the whim of a man who cannot even show his face at his own company."

He looked utterly shocked. "But this is … _no one_ has this technology! How did you get hold of it?"

 _Very well paid thieves,_ Talia thought. She simply gave him an enigmatic smile. "Better that you do not ask. Your researchers will find the new materials already in their lab. Keep them separate from the corrupted samples; it would be best to store those in a lead-lined container when working with the pristine specimens. We do not know, precisely, how Luthor was able to affect the original samples over such a great distance. But lead seems to put a stop to most interference."

"That could entirely change the game. With samples from multiple sources, we could explore more options." Perrin looked stunned by the turn of his fortunes, and Talia sipped the last of her wine. He lifted the bottle, holding it toward her glass. "Shall we toast to successful business venture, then?"

She held the glass out with a slight smile. "To the _world_ , M'sieur Perrin. Always, the world." And never mind the series of messages on her phone reporting that her Beloved had discovered the theft, or that Luthor had also realized his facility had been breached. Some things had to stand aside for the greater good.

Better still, with _this_ sordid business at last concluded, she could go _home_. Where her son awaited her. His birthday was coming up soon, and she decided to bring him a gift from Paris. Damian had already shown a fondness for art, and this city had some of the finest museums and artworks in the world. Talia made a mental note to look into the next high-end art auction. An original sketch supposedly by da Vinci was on offer.

She'd also need to make sure her swords were properly oiled. Al Ghul birthday traditions tended to be rather more martial than most.

…

Back in Gotham, while the Bats seethed over the revelations about their latest setback, Harley had found her way home again like she always did. No matter what. She and Joker were two halves of the same whole, they were _meant_ to be together. And her world just wasn't the same without him, like the palette was missing a few essential colors. Sepia tones were fine, most of the time, but she needed to see in neon too. She never felt as alive as when she ran with him.

And she'd _finally_ found him. Of course he played his usual jokes, pretending he hadn't missed her at all, acting like he'd forgotten she was even _in_ Arkham when he made his breakout. But he sure knew how to make her feel welcome again, and she giggled when they broke the bed frame in his current hideout. Harley fell right back into place beside him, right where she belonged. Where she felt safe, because he made all the decisions and she just had to make sure she followed her script.

Oh, Mistah J wasn't safe, at _all_ , but being as close to him as she was, that was like riding in the eye of a hurricane. Watching everyone else cower in terror as he swept through, watching the baddest of the bad bow and scrape in his presence, watching even the Bat react with trepidation … and here she stood, _at his side_ , queen of all she surveyed.

At least, until she missed her cue.

The very next day after she came back, Harley laughed at the wrong moment, and she had no warning, not even a scowl from him before his fist caught her in the face. She'd deserved it, of course, in retrospect she could see that he'd been _totally serious_ , not a joke at all, and the only thing Mistah J hated more than people with no sense of humor was people laughing when he was serious.

"Harley, how many times have I told you?" he said in that long-suffering tone, and she started to squeak out an apology but was cut off by his fist in her gut. Then her ribs. Then her face again. Then he wrapped his hands around her throat and squeezed and shook her as she gasped for air, letting go only when her vision began to darken. The rest of his men stood silent, looking anywhere but at her, as he got really tuned up.

Even in this, she was privileged. If any of his goons had screwed up as badly as she always did, they'd be dead, the very first time. Joker let her learn from her mistakes. And pain was a pretty effective teacher. She was just a very slow student.

He hit her again, hard enough that she felt her nose crunch. Harley could only think that she'd have to set that later, herself, because he wouldn't help her with such minor things. And he didn't want her looks altered. Usually he didn't go for the face, but she'd _really_ screwed up this time.

"Harley you idiot," he laughed, not the bright laughter that she heard when she'd been good, this was dark and mocking and cruel. "I swear you're only good for one thing, and you're not even _that_ good at it." Her pride flared up; she _was_ quite goddamn good at that, actually, and had enough other opinions to discount his. For a second, anyway, before she saw the rage in his eyes and her rebellion quailed before it. Then Joker grabbed a fistful of her hair, spun her around, and hit her hard twice in the lower back, Harley yelping in pain. Right in the kidneys, he was always so accurate, and she'd be pissing blood for days.

A treacherous little voice in her mind – Pam's voice – whispered, _Turn around and kill the bastard. You know you can. Kill him before he kills you. One night he's going to get you in the spleen and you'll bleed to death before he thinks to take you to the hospital._

Harley stamped down on the voice. Joker was in control, and he'd never hurt her _that_ bad. She was just provoking him too much, she should've known better, if she just followed the rules and didn't get in his way, none of this would be happening. It was all her fault.

All couples fought, eventually. That was so common there was a whole branch of psychology devoted to counseling them. People in relationships always faced struggles. And as Harley had once heard, hate and love were two sides of the same coin. You didn't _really_ love someone unless you'd seriously thought about how to hide their body.

Besides, she'd been with him for _years_ now. If she turned now, who would believe her? They'd all think she was just a dirty double-crosser, that she'd liked being smacked around since she'd stayed so long.

If she turned on him now, she'd be admitting she was wrong all along, that someone as smart and prepared and familiar with the psyche as Dr. Harleen Quinzel had become just another sad domestic-violence statistic. But Harley wouldn't even let herself _think_ that, it was an undercurrent several layers below her conscious mind, and still, she'd rather be Harley Quinn and glory in the power and the danger that came with running at his side. No one else had _survived_ being with Mistah J. No one else ever _could_. Just her, the Clown Prince's Harlequin, his loyal fool and foil.

She justified every bit of it until he let her go and she fell to the floor, doubled over, her body a seething mass of pain. Blood ran from her nose, her ribs felt cracked, one eye was swollen shut, and her kidneys throbbed like hot stones set in flesh. She struggled to breathe slowly, evenly, so she wouldn't throw up despite the way her gut howled. If she vomited, she'd have to clean up the mess, so Harley tried to hold on until she could throw up in a sink or a toilet or something easier to scrub.

"Look at this," Joker said, flipping her over with an ungentle toe. "You're bleeding all over the carpet, Harley. What is this, you can't even take a punch without wrecking something of mine?" He sounded like an impatient man scolding a puppy for widdling on the rug.

"Sorry," Harley managed to gasp out, staying curled up on her side. That way he couldn't hurt her _too_ badly if he started in again with kicks. Bruises on her thighs and back and arms were easier to ignore than the ones on her face and throat and belly.

Joker bent over. "What was that? I didn't hear you, babe. Must've been the choking."

"I said I'm sorry," she tried to enunciate as best she could. "I'll clean it up. I promise."

"You'd better," he said warningly, and looked up.

Harley peered up through her good eye, feeling his focus shift from her to the men. Joker paced away from her, looking at each of them. "Is there a problem, gentlemen?" he asked in his softest, most reasonable voice. "Does someone take issue with how I manage my personal affairs? Anyone want to give me some advice on how I could handle things better?"

Silence, the men looking down, not meeting his gaze, and Harley started moving, carefully testing each limb. When she got up, she had to be sure not to stagger; if he saw her limping he'd hit her harder for faking or playing for sympathy. She'd grown to loathe the phrase, _If you want to limp, I'll give you a good reason to limp._

Joker stopped and spread his hands expansively. "C'mon, boys, you know I encourage feedback! Tell me what's the matter here."

None of them spoke, and Harley stayed put for the moment, not trusting herself to get up. Not wanting to draw his attention again, not even by breathing loudly. Something else was in the air, something dangerous, and all of the men could sense it, too. Someone might die in the next few minutes.

The thrill of being with Joker was that someone _always_ might die in the next few minutes, but the chance had swung abruptly from 'possible' to 'probable' in the span of a few breaths. And Harley knew down in her bones that she was on the list of potential victims.

Joker sighed, tucked his hands into his pockets, and shook his head gravely. "Or maybe … maybe you agree with me. Right, boys? I mean, you all know Harley. She's weak. She's pathetic. She's entirely too fond of vegetables. And she's not even that funny!" He laughed his expansive laugh then, and the men laughed with him.

Then Joker looked at her, catching her watching, and grinned diabolically. "At least she's good for something, right boys?"

They stuttered on that, not sure if they should laugh or not, and Joker smiled at Harley. His gentlest, kindest smile, the one that Harley would've called beatific if she'd seen it on anyone else. From _him_ , it iced her gut and made her shiver.

He'd worn that smile when he pressed the electrodes to her temples and blasted Dr. Quinzel right out of her brain.

He'd worn that smile when he cut open a traitor's stomach and strangled the man to death with his own large intestine.

She imagined sometimes that he'd worn that smile when he brought the crowbar down on a bloody, broken Robin. That was before her time, but everyone knew about it, Joker made sure _everyone_ heard the story. It was his crowning triumph, the biggest joke he'd ever played on the Bat. And Harley knew her guess had to be right, that Robin had seen that smile as one of the last images before his lights went out.

Joker smiled, and said in his sweetest voice, "Why don't you show her what she's good for, boys? Why don't you _all_ show her? _So she remembers her_ _ **place**_." On the last words it changed, that _other_ tone underscoring them, a snarl that wasn't even human and which Harley had only heard once. In a recording, directed at someone pretending to be the Bat, a bestial roar of frustration and fury that he'd caught his foe and it wasn't even the _right_ Bat, the joke was on _him_ for once and the poor dumb bastard he _did_ catch didn't even have the decency to play along with the game, a cowering pitiful creature who begged not to be hurt.

That also happened way before Harley's time. One of the attending physicians at Arkham, seeing her interest in Joker, had made her read the autopsy report. He'd underlined the stomach contents; the man had been forced to swallow all of his own toes. And the last joints of his fingers. The toes were cut, but the fingers were bitten off. The bite marks matched the man's own teeth, and there were shreds of flesh and sinew between them.

The cause of death had been hanging, via short drop. _After_ all the rest.

She should've run, then, but she was already in too deep, thinking she alone saw the man at the bottom of the abyss of pain and rage and betrayal and more pain. Justifying away the autopsy report even while she read it, thinking that any civilian who dressed up like Batman was asking for trouble, that the poor murdered bastard who'd bitten off and swallowed his own fingers _had_ to have known who he was tempting and what could happen when he put on that cowl. Thinking it was the same as waving a red cape in front of a bull, in a way. And despite everything, still thinking if she stepped into that darkness, just a little, she could reach Joker and bring him out. That she, the black sheep of the family, might succeed where all others failed. Her mother told all her friends how her little girl was a _doctor_ but never what _kind_ of doctor, she spoke of psychiatry in the same way she spoke of Harley's sister's decision to marry a gentile even if he was a lawyer, and for Dr. Harleen Quinzel saving the Joker would be the ultimate validation of everything she chose to become. That, finally, would silence all the backhanded compliments she still heard in her mind, echoes of the same snide remarks she'd had to receive graciously far too often.

On a deep level of Harley's mind where her consciousness dared not tread, she now knew there was nothing left down inside Joker _but_ the abyss itself. The man, whoever he'd been, was long gone. She walked beside the living, breathing dark. And sometimes, like now as it roared from his throat, sometimes it cracked the shell of the man it wore, showing through in little glimpses of blackness so deep they seared the eye like staring into a camera flash. Not mere absence of light, but anti-light.

Such poetic comparisons barely flickered in the depths of her mind, while her surface thoughts buzzed with terror. She knew what Joker was suggesting. They'd played this game before, always with someone who'd displeased him. He made a show of offering her as a reward to some erstwhile ally. If the other accepted, Joker killed him for touching his girl. If he refused, however politely, Harley took offense, and Joker killed him for insulting his girl. Always, any time someone came between them, that person died. But it had always been a game they played together, and this … this was different. She was the pawn, not a partner – or worse, she was just the prize.

He didn't _own_ her, she clung to that, and whatever happened outside of her relationship with him – whether it was Floyd or Pam or someone else – didn't matter, didn't count. She and Joker were _meant to_ _ **be**_.

Mistah J wouldn't hand her over to his goons just to make a point.

Would he?

The silence hung in the air, deadly, and finally one of the men stepped forward, standing over Harley. She could only look up at him, shivering like the pathetic useless creature she was, and his mouth curled up in a sneer of distaste. "He's right, you're pitiful," he said scornfully, and kicked her hard in the belly.

She'd made the mistake of uncurling from her protective ball, and that caught her right in the solar plexus, making the air whoosh out in a lamentable squeak, not unlike a rubber chicken. And Joker _laughed_ , his good-joke laugh, the killing tension suddenly dissipating.

Harley managed to be grateful even as the man who'd kicked her spat in her face and turned his back in contempt. From her current perspective, a little saliva was the least awful ending to this particular moment in her life.


	65. Finally I've Found That I

Everything was already squared away, the apartment and the bunker were locked down tight for an extended absence before he'd gone to brunch. Jay had to leave most of his weapons behind, since Tommy wouldn't have them. Just a switchblade, a cosh, and a Glock with the serial numbers filed off. It hurt to put the kris in the safe – he'd come to rely on that blade and its wicked edge a little too much. It was too exotic for this persona, though, and enough of the bad guys had seen it to immediately connect it to Red Hood.

He kept a few nifty gadgets, of course, because you never knew when a smoke bomb or a hit of knockout gas would come in handy, but all of those were disguised as mundane objects. A burner phone rounded out the kit, though it had only _started_ as a burner. Babs had worked it over for him and essentially built one of their comms into the thing. So it looked like the kind of cheap job anyone could pick up at a drugstore and which ran on prepaid cards, but it had GPS tracking and a panic code that would bring the whole family running.

Which, fuck, he wasn't used to _backup_. Even after months of having it, even after running patrols and missions with his very own close air support, as Kala laughingly called herself, it still gave Jay pause to know that if he just hit the zero button three times, Batman himself would drop whatever he was doing and rush to the rescue. For him. And he'd bring Dickie-Bird and Tim and Dinah and Helena and whoever else was around, too, because they all knew Jay wouldn't call it in unless the situation was dire.

Hell, if the situation was _really_ dire, Babs would alert Kala, and he'd get rescued by a pissed-off girlfriend with super-speed, super-strength, and laser eyes. It was almost worth playing damsel in distress to see _that_.

Jay tucked the phone in the pocket of a frayed pair of jeans he'd picked up at a thrift store, along with the rest of the clothes he'd need. All of his purchases were scuffed, stained, or had a couple small holes, and he'd break them in for a day or so before he let any of Crane's people see them, to take the detergent smell out. Jay drew the line at underwear, though. He wasn't wearing any boxers someone else had worn, no matter how many times he washed them first. He just picked the most worn pairs he had. He had to look broke and desperate enough to work for Crane, yet even he had limits. After wearing the same three pairs for a week or two, they were gonna smell like a sweaty locker room, but at least it'd be his _own_ stink, for fuck's sake.

Then it was time to go see the kids. The thought of them always made Jay's chest tighten up; you couldn't live with somebody and not start to care about them. And fuck, they were likable; none of them were _bad_ kids, just hard luck suckers like he'd been, tough and angry because the world had made them so. If they would've let him, and if he could've done it without fucking it all up worse, he would've scooped up the pack of them and … well, brought them to Manor or something.

Now he finally understood why Bruce had adopted him. Once upon a time, he'd felt insulted, as if Bruce had taken him in like a stray dog. Thinking about Julio's serious eyes and Carl's quick wit and Lenny's goofy sense of humor, Jay wanted to protect them all. But the last thing any of them wanted was to be treated like, well, _kids_ , even if that's what they were. They were all too used to fending for themselves.

The situation he'd set up for them probably wasn't the ideal and would've appalled any decent social worker in the city, but Jay figured it was the best compromise he could make. And so far Selina hadn't taught any of them how to lift wallets, so he wasn't contributing to anyone's delinquency.

He strolled up to the building the kids were in with his shoulders hunched, a ratty duffel bag over his shoulder, and a beat-up ball cap pulled low over his eyes. Jay knocked on the door and waited, looking down so they wouldn't see his face.

No one answered for a while, which was good. Even in broad daylight, they didn't need to advertise this place. He knocked again, longer, and went back to staring at his shoes. Eventually he heard a faint scraping noise, then Julio's voice on the other side. "Whaddya want?"

Delivered with the nervous aggression only a seventeen year old homeless boy could inject into the words, and Jay smiled. "Need somewhere to stay. Heard this was safe. Tommy sent me."

The locks were unbolted, but the chain stayed on as the door cracked up. "Tommy sent you?" Julio asked, holding a golf club ready to swing. "Prove it."

Jay looked up and met his gaze. "I shaved, but is this proof enough?"

"Fuck, man, you coulda said it was you," Julio said, closing the door to take the chain off. And then, much to Jay's surprise, grabbing his hand and shaking it as he pulled him inside. "Shit, it's good to see you."

"Shouldn't be," Jay said gruffly. "I told you all I'm bad news."

"Yeah, bad news for bad people, not so much for us. You send us pizza and laptops and money and hot chicks to teach us how to fight," Julio laughed.

Jay couldn't help a bark of startled laughter, himself. "Shit, you should see the one I'm running with these days."

"Nobody sees the Blur, she never holds still," Julio scoffed. "Think me and Carl ran across her one night. Coulda just been the wind."

"Probably her. She _is_ the wind," Jay said fondly, and shut his mouth before he gave anything away. "Anyway, don't try makin' a move on Dinah _or_ the Cat, okay? Catwoman's boyfriend is a douche. And Dinah's girlfriend is a holy terror. I'd cross him before I'd mess with her."

"Shit, everyone knows about the Cat and Bat," Julio shrugged. "Ain't nobody messin' with that. Dinah, though, who's she dating? Freaking Wonder Woman?"

"Worse," Jay laughed. "I wouldn't get in a fight with her, but she's smarter than anybody else I know. Probably smarter than Batman. Definitely meaner. You won't see her out in spandex, but nobody in the caped crowd will cross her. Also, don't mess with cougars, okay? Just trust me."

"Eh, they're fun to look at, anyway," Julio replied with a shrug. "What're you doin' down here dressed like one of us?"

"Tommy's lookin' for a job," Jay said. "I need to get inside what Crane's doing."

"Good, 'cause it's shady as fuck," Julio said with a scowl. "We called it in like you said, but we've been keeping watch. Me and Carl mostly, the others are scared to go out. Word is Crane's snatching people."

Jay fixed him with a stern glare. "Do _not_ fuck with Crane. He's brewing something new and nasty, all right. I want a sample, and I want to know what his game is so we can head him off at the pass. But I don't want you guys out there sniffing around for trouble."

"Why not?" Carl piped up. He'd snuck up on them quietly, and Jay frowned at his tone. "Also, hi, nice to see ya, thanks for the care packages and all, but how come we gotta hide like nice little kiddies while _you_ go out and risk your neck? We could _help_ you!"

"He's always like this," Julio muttered.

"Fuck you," Carl spat.

"Wait 'til you're like, fifteen at least," Julio shot back, and Carl blushed furiously.

"Yeah, you're cute, invite me to the wedding," Jay sighed. Then he turned to the youngest boy, and crossed his arms, glaring him down. "Carl, you have _any_ idea how long I trained and how hard I worked to do the things I do? And my dumb ass _still_ almost gets killed on a regular basis. Fuck, even with Bat-backup it's still dangerous. I do this shit so people like you guys _don't_ get pasted by these crazy fuckers."

"So let us train like you did," Carl said stubbornly.

Jay scrubbed his hands over his face. "Fuck, now I know how Batman felt. I was your age when I stole the tires off the Batmobile and he took me in. A _year_ of training, gymnastics and martial arts and a bunch of other shit, and I wasn't ready even then but I convinced him to take me out anyway. Don't even get me _started_ on everything I learned after I quote-unquote died and came back. You're like, ten years from being half-assed."

Carl glared right back, chin jutting out. "Yeah? I read somethin' in a book once. 'The best time to plant a tree is twenty years ago. The second-best time is _now_.' So you're like the old tree, good for you, but we could be _doing_ something in this town instead of hiding like mice. Everyone's just treating us with kid gloves!"

 _Because you_ _ **are**_ _kids,_ Jay thought, and didn't say. Not just because he knew the saying came from kid-leather gloves, made of the softer skin of baby goats. "You _can_ do something in this town," Jay insisted. "It doesn't have to be fighting bad guys with your fists. You can do something that matters more, and helps more kids like you."

Carl just frowned. Julio sighed. "Lay off, Carl. If you really wanna be one of the capes, we'll talk Catwoman into teaching you some more moves, and then you can push this guy in a year or so when he can't just say it's a phase."

Jay snorted laughter at that. "Shit, I wish someone would've told _me_ to sit down and shut up, it's just a phase, when _I_ was a kid. My life would've gone a lot different. Point is, we're not doin' this now."

"You're worse than my dad," Carl griped.

Looking at Julio, Jay raised an eyebrow. "Am I gonna be living in a fuckin' family sitcom? 'Cause the street's lookin' real good right now."

Julio laughed and shook his head. "Whatever, you got bigger stuff to worry about than us. All I care about is layin' low 'til I get my GED and can get a job without getting picked up for truant or some shit."

"That's the goal," Jay said reassuringly. "Come on, Carl, don't be pissed. I've seen a lot of kids get hurt or killed out there. Some in plainclothes, some in costume. If you really wanna learn this stuff, we'll work on that. For now, I just need a place to start from. I'm the best in town at getting inside the bad guys' teams. Mostly 'cause I used to be one."

"We can read, y'know," Carl said stubbornly. "You only ever killed like drug dealers and gangsters."

"Still a killer," Jay said, and took a step toward him, letting his gait turn predatory. "I wasn't in my right mind, I'd been trained as a fuckin' _assassin_ by one of the best in that business, and despite everything I tried to do, people still shot each other up and OD'd in the streets. Kids still went hungry and homeless. This fucked-up town is more than any one person can fix, and the only thing I learned from trying to be the best of the worst is that it _still_ doesn't work. Me and the Bat and all of them, we're in it together now."

A pause, and he shrugged, backing off a little. Carl looked nervous, but hadn't stepped back; the kid had guts. "I'm also the best at this part 'cause I'm from the Bowery. Most of them aren't. So you guys are stuck with me for a few days while I sniff my way into whatever Crane's doing."

"What if they find out you're … you, and not one of the bad guys?" Carl asked.

Jay grinned. "Well, that's where the assassin part comes in. I know a whole lotta ways to fuck someone up that don't necessarily involve killing. I'm not too worried about anything that Crane can throw at me."

"What _are_ you worried about?" Julio asked, in something like awe.

Jay looked at him seriously. "Getting people like you caught in the cross-fire," he answered.

Any further discussion was forestalled by Selina's voice coming from upstairs – of course she wouldn't turn up at the front door – and calling out, "Who's hungry? I ordered pizza, it should be here in fifteen!"

"Didja get enough for me?" Jay called back, and heard her laugh.

…

Kala didn't regret a moment of brunch _or_ dessert … but she did feel a little chagrin when she showed back up to the tour in one of Jay's spare uniform shirts. The man himself had just texted her letting her know he was officially going dark, and she felt a pang at that news despite having known he was going out as soon as she left.

The boys were in the hallway getting ready to leave, their luggage outside the doors, and all four of them looked up with interest when she arrived. Sebast raised an eyebrow, saying nothing, but Ned looked her up and down. "Nice shirt. Did your kung fu guy follow us?" he asked. "Or is this someone new?"

She weighed the odds of lying, and decided fuck it, she'd tell as much of the truth as she could. "It's not _that_ far a drive to Gotham City," she protested. "But you jealous bitches get me all to yourselves for a while. He's got other obligations. Also, Ned, it's not kung fu. I learned Seidō juku as a kid, he gave me hapkido to go with it."

"Okay, I have no idea what any of that is, except kung fu," Ned replied with a shrug. "And I only know that because of The Matrix and Kung Fu Panda."

"Different styles. Different philosophies," Kala answered. "Hapkido is mostly defensive. So I have like two dozen different ways to kick someone's ass if they try to mess with me, but most of it relies on them making the first move."

Sebast, who already knew, just looked sullen, still brooding on her mysterious lover. Robb and Morgan looked curious. But Ned looked skeptical. "That's nice and all, but you really think you can win a fight with a guy bigger and stronger than you?"

"No," Kala said, grinning. "I _know_ I can. Because I have, several times. You've seen my brother – Jason won't throw a punch in a fight because he knows he can break someone's face. _I will._ And any time some idiot decided to start shit with the big nerdy boy back in high school, his hot sister came along and beat the crap outta them."

"I was there," Sebast said, brightening up. "We went to arts school, you _never_ fought on campus, but the closest park to Stalmaster saw a lotta dumb guys eat dirt because they crossed her."

"How?" Morgan finally asked. "I mean, I've watched kung fu movies and stuff. You're still pretty delicate."

"Leverage," Kala replied, since she really didn't need or even use her strength for the kinds of moves they were talking about. When all of them just stared at her blankly, she rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine. Ned, you're the big talker, come here. Put me in a head lock."

Ned raised his eyebrows. "Kala, I'm six foot six."

"And you don't outweigh me by _that_ much," she countered. "C'mon, Skellington, don't be scared. It's a carpeted floor."

He finally shrugged, walked over, and looped his arm around her neck carefully. Kala rolled her eyes. "Put some pressure on it. I'm not made out of porcelain, that's just my foundation shade. I won't break, Ned."

He tightened up some at that, but compared to the training she'd been doing all summer, this was just goofing around. So Kala pulled a shoulder slip and simply ducked out of his hold. Ned looked at her, startled, and she grinned. "You're the _worst_ bad guy ever. I can't _believe_ this sentence is about to come out of my mouth, Ned, but choke me like you _mean_ it."

Robb gave a spluttering cough, and Morgan laughed. "File that under things I hope the band-fic writers never hear about," he snorted.

Kala scoffed. "Don't remind me. They think we lead a much more adventurous life than we actually do. Well, except for Sebast."

Sebast just took a bow. "I do it for the fans, _querida_. And because I like getting laid."

Everyone rolled their eyes at him, and Ned moved back in. That time, he actually got a real grip – and Kala grinned. One foot back, both her hands on his elbow, and she turned into him with a convulsive movement. Much to Ned's own surprise, with very little effort she spun him over her hip and smacked him into the floor. _And_ ended up with a joint lock on his hand and wrist, which was really just force of habit.

Ned stared up at her. "What the… Wait, _how_?"

"Simple physics and body mechanics," she replied with a shrug and a smile. Kala demonstrated the throw again, at half-tempo, and again with Morgan so Ned could see what it looked like when he wasn't the one tipping over. Then she had to throw Robb, because he was the most solid of them.

By the time Derek came to find them, they were all laughing uproariously, and Kala had moved on to showing them ways to get out being pinned to a wall and choked. He arrived just as she sent Ned stumbling to the ground with just her hands on his wrist and forearm. "What the hell is this?" Derek asked.

Kala grinned, baring her teeth, but bit back her initial snarky response as the memory of this morning returned. He'd been crying over something, sounding utterly brokenhearted, and it wasn't in her nature to strike out at someone who was already hurting. So she just shrugged. "Self-defense class. Call a team-building exercise."

And then Sebast ruined her proffered olive branch by growling, "You wanna play? I bet you make a _great_ punching bag."

Before Kala could do more than shoot him a look, Derek had just rolled his eyes. "No, _children_ , someone here has to act like an adult. We don't have time for this. Load up before we're late."

"Sanctimonious bitch," Sebast muttered under his breath as he grabbed his suitcase.

"Hey. Ease off," Kala whispered, grabbing her own.

Sebast just glared. "Damn, the dick is _that_ good, you're defending King Twatwaffle? Fuck's sake, Kal, does he have a brother I can borrow?"

"Knock it off," she hissed, elbowing him, but there wasn't time to explain. And what she'd heard early that morning sounded too private and too painful to share.

Not to mention, she couldn't explain _how_ she'd heard it. The one bad thing about spending so much time with people who knew she was Kryptonian, was that she was losing the habits of secrecy that kept her entire family safe.

…

Selina sprawled on the roof, attended by three cats, while Jay sat beside her, smoking. The kids inside were polishing off the last of the pizza enthusiastically. "So you're going deep cover?" she said, looking at him upside down from where she lay on the parapet. A gray tabby had settled itself into loaf position on her chest, the same cat that had panicked and run when Jay looked at it. Meanwhile two black cats chased a leaf around, batting and pouncing at it.

"Yeah. Someone's gotta rein in Scarecrow," Jay replied, eyeing the narrow ledge. "I know _you're_ solid, and I run roofs too, but what're you gonna do if the cat freaks out and slips?"

"Bolt grew up on the rooftops," Selina chided. "She's as surefooted as any of them. She just doesn't like people, especially men. Hell, she took two months to warm up to _me_."

"Now that's weird. I've never heard of a cat not liking you," Jay remarked, as the smaller of the two black cats scampered over and pounced on his boot. "Easy there, killer."

"Norway, leave him be," Selina called, but the cat climbed into his lap instead, and Jay moved the cigarette away from her as she purred and head-butted his other hand.

"Well, this one's not shy," he laughed, petting her.

"They're sisters," Selina explained, and that got Jay's attention. "All three of these, plus two more at my apartment. Their mother was feral; she had them under a lift gate and took off once they were weaned. I don't think she trusted me after I got her spayed. The girls all grew up together, with me, running all over Park Row. I'm pretty sure the five of them have three different fathers, but even Bolt's twin is friendlier than she is. Some cats are just spooky, is all. They're closer to being wild than the rest. It's not nature or nurture, it's the intersection of nature _and_ nurture that makes them what they are in the end. Bolt here learned to trust me, eventually. And she trusts herself, not to fall. I'd catch her if she did, though, no matter what it cost me."

Jay nodded slowly. He knew that feeling, that 'protect at all costs' drive. The kids brought it out in him. Kala did too, but she wasn't a kid, and half the damn time she was more likely to be protecting _him_. He figured he was a pretty textbook case of nature plus nurture, too. He'd been born to two pretty awful people, but Catherine – who would always be _Mom_ in his mind – had shaped him into something better. The rest of his life had ups and downs, influences bending him in dangerous directions, but in the long run he thought he was doing okay.

While he was thinking, the third cat came over and stretched up, hooking her paws into his jacket and stretching to sniff the one in his lap. "Hey, I'm not a scratching post," Jay complained lightly.

"Lydia, _easy_ ," Selina said, and the cat relaxed her claws. And then hopped into Jay's lap, too. Selina smiled. "They like you."

"That's weird, 'cause I'm not a cat person," Jay said.

"Cats tend to prefer people who don't like them," Selina explained. "Everyone says it's because they're perverse, but it's not that. Cat _lovers_ will stare and coo and reach for them, and that's rude to a cat. Direct eye contact is either aggressive, or only for close friends. So they go to the one person who's being polite, looking away, not calling them – and that's the one who doesn't like cats. Or worse, is afraid of them. Their sister Batty _climbed_ Bruce when he dropped in this morning. At least they're careful of their claws."

"Yeah, I'm thankful for that, since they're in my lap," Jay said, staring down as the pair of them cuddled around each other in a warm ball of fur. "Wish I could've seen Bruce's face. He's got about as much experience with pets as I do, which is none."

Selina couldn't shrug, so she just raised her hands, and never mind that she was laying on a narrow parapet. "He was more shocked that she licked his face. Miss Kitty doesn't like him, of course, but she's a more discerning soul. Except for Bolt, this whole litter turned out to be sweethearts. Batty's just the most demonstrative. And the biggest. She's twice Norway's weight."

"Did you tell him you named a cat Batty?" Jay asked, curious.

"Well, sort of, but she's not named for _him_ ," Selina explained. "Like I told him, I called her that because she looked like a fruit bat, and she answered to it, so Batty she became. She's much nicer than he is, anyway. No problems expressing affection." A little smile at that.

"Why don't you just kick his ass, Selina?" Jay asked, serious now. "I mean, not even talking about everyone else in the JLA and half the civvies, I thought you would've kicked him to the curb over Talia. I didn't know cats were all about sharing."

She sat up then, a complicated move that let the cat on her chest step gracefully down into her lap. Her green eyes caught him intently, just as serious as he was. "If kicking his ass would do any good, don't you think _she_ would've done it by now? Or killed me off, and everyone else he ever looked too long at? It won't. Nothing will. The man is _broken_ , Jay, and this is just one symptom of it, that he can't let himself make any promise that might come before the one he made to his dead parents when he was all of ten years old."

Jay shook his head slowly. "Okay, that makes sense. But – and it's none of my business, so feel free to tell me to fuck off – I still don't see why you put up with it."

She swung her feet slightly, just looking at him. "Because I happen to love him, more fool me. And because in spite of himself, he's worth it. _You_ know him, you know there's more under that cowl than just the Bat. He's more than justice and the night. That much Talia and I have in common, we both think he's worth all the trouble and aggravation he puts us both through. No one else has ever stayed, once they realized it's never gonna be the romance they think it will be."

He could only shrug. "I would've thought you'd be more pissed than philosophical about the whole thing. _She's_ pissed, I guarantee you that."

Selina smirked. "What would it gain me to be angry? Nothing would change except my blood pressure. Cats are _practical_ , Hood. And cats can love without ownership on either side. I only belong to myself, but everyone in this city knows he loves me and I love him. Anything else we're doing with any _one_ else is its own thing. I don't give him orders, and I've just about got him trained to stop telling me what to do." She chuckled at the last, as much at herself for trying to change Bruce as much as at him for trying to order her around.

"This is why I don't fool around with love," Jay said, shaking his head.

Selina laughed at him, her voice rich with amusement. "Really? That's not what I heard. But then, some things you may have learned a little _too_ well from him."

Jay bristled. "You don't know me like that, Selina." And she hadn't even _met_ Kala.

She smirked and set the tabby aside to stand up and stroll over to him. "I know all about angry feral kittens, though. I wish I could've met you back in the day. I'm a lot better at gentling wild things than Bruce is. And I would've liked having a friend as much as you needed one. Just think, you could've been out there stealing the tires off of Air Force One." With that, she ruffled his hair, and Jay ducked away from her hand. Shaking her head, Selina went to the opposite roof edge and jumped off. In a moment, she was out of sight.

Jay sighed, taking another drag off his cigarette, and then looked down at the two cats in his lap. "The hell am I supposed to do with you?" he asked.

The smaller, fluffier one yawned hugely, and rolled over on her back, purring.

"If I try to move you, you'll probably bite me," Jay sighed, and resigned himself to sitting there until the two cats decided to move on their own. He had a cigarette to finish, anyway, and plenty to think about.

…

This was the beginning of the long haul, the part of every tour that Kala both hated and loved. She hated it because she felt trapped, only able to sneak away when they stopped for the night. She loved it because she loved watching from the windows as the miles rolled past. It was like flying, though slower than _she_ ever flew, and closer to all the details.

Night was falling, the sky fiery in the west, and she lay stretched out in the loft, looking through the narrow slice of front window at the road ahead. Deer were feeding on the shoulders of the road, unbothered by the cars and trucks and tour buses whipping past mere feet away, and Kala saw a buck lift his head and seem to look right at her. That reminded her, it was archery hunting season in Kansas. Right about now Dustin was asleep, planning to wake up at four and be in the tree stand before dawn, with hopes of getting a nice buck or a fat doe to put in the freezer. Kala herself had never hunted, couldn't have brought herself to kill an animal, but it was different for Dustin. He didn't have her hearing or her speed, the match was somewhat more even, and they'd thrashed out the arguments for and against hunting years ago. Ultimately he did it for the same reason she'd tried to go vegetarian: he loved animals, and hated the way they were raised in factory farms. He generally ate only pasture-raised beef and pork and chicken that had grown up in the same county as Dustin himself, and wild deer and turkey living on that same land. It was _all_ about the land and its stewardship, for him, and though Kala still couldn't bring herself to eat venison chili, she understood Dustin better, and couldn't begrudge him.

They'd be in Kansas in a week and a half, with a few days' layover that Derek had complained about, but Kala _always_ stopped in when she was near Smallville. Jason and Elise were there, Grandpa Ben was there, and Lana's family, and Dustin and Cathy and Wade, all the old friends she mostly saw online these days. The band came with; they used to go their separate ways, but Smallville was used to Kala's brand of crazy and welcomed the band congenially. Kala was Jason's twin, and Smallville had accepted him as a hometown boy, living on the Kent land and wearing plaid and driving the old farm truck like he'd been born to it – and not in a hospital in Paris while his father was on his way to another planet. Because of that oldest bond, the one who'd been kicking and fussing right beside her when Mom was a heartbeat above them, Kala always had a home in Smallville.

She drowsed, and thought about all the definitions of home. The smell of newsprint was home in its way, the clicking of keyboards and the hum of hard drives at the Daily Planet. Perry White still threatened to hire them both if they didn't stop hanging around the place, Jimmy Olsen still kept a jar of sugar-free candy at his desk for any visiting kids, and Kala still felt a wave of nostalgia walking into her mother's office. The scatter of papers was always the same, the faint smell of Lois' perfume and the sight of her with a phone pressed to her ear, cajoling information out of sources. She and Jase had spent a lot of hours in there, drawing on blank newsprint or copier paper, writing up stories of their own in notebooks. Kala had been writing song lyrics since she was seven or eight – she remembered some really awful 'romantic ballads' around middle school, and was glad those notebooks had never been released to the public. These days that feeling came back just hearing her mother's snarky tone as she'd heard it so many times in the office, the affectionate teasing between the old guard at the paper as they traded insults the way others gave out compliments. None of it meant anything bad, Kala had known that even when she still spoke with a noticeable French accent, because the whole pack of reporters and photographers and editors and pressmen were a family of sorts, too. Let one outsider try to make a disparaging remark, and Bill and Gil who'd been tearing each other to shreds moments ago would unite and obliterate the interloper.

Up in the sun with her father was another kind of home, the golden light suffusing them both. That was special to just her and Dad, one of the few home-memories she didn't share with Jase. Kala made a living by using her voice to make people feel things, and yet she had no words or notes to describe _that_ emotion. How it felt to stand on air with the whole planet turning under her feet, watching that incredible boiling gold come up out of the sea and turn the dark sky into a riot of color, the sun touching the city beneath them and making all the shadowed city blocks become more real. The buildings went from a uniform sweater-gray to a hundred shades of brick and cement and glass and steel, and from where she and Dad stood they could watch the light spilling through the streets as it went. It didn't seem like it happened fast, but if she closed her eyes for a moment she'd miss it.

Kala had a whole other family, too, and she got tired of explaining it to people who just couldn't understand. Daddy Richard was still her dad, no genetics need apply, which made Lana the non-evil stepmom and Kristin was her sister, end of sentence, no 'step' in there. The hours Kala had spent taking over Lana's cherished dining room table for homework or artwork or a science fair project, Daddy Richard rumpling both of their hair and teasing them equally, Lana plying them with food and snacks and advice, the easy welcome that was always there in the apartment, the beach house, and the cabin in the mountains. Perhaps it was because that part of her family was a conscious, deliberate choice, one that began when Clark came back into his children's lives, and the only dad Kala had ever known decided to step up, rather than stepping away. Richard and Lana had made themselves friends and co-parents as well as keepers of the family secret, and especially in her rocky teenage years Kala had needed that combination of distance and closeness. They both saw her a little more objectively than Mom or Dad did, especially Mom, who couldn't help seeing her own mistakes in Kala's early arrogance. And being Mom, she couldn't help wanting to save her from them. Lana could love her and let her fall flat on her face and then pick her up again, while Daddy Richard made a joke about it that would let her laugh despite herself. She and Jase had both been very damn lucky that all the adults in their lives had acted in the kids' best interests and put their sometimes-considerable egos aside.

And still another kind of home was right here, in the sway of the bus eating up the miles, Kala suspended somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. Her band – her boys – nearby, the sound of Ned's snoring and the smell of Sebast's cologne and the light from Robb's phone glowing in the dark and the sound of Morgan strumming his guitar half-asleep, no amplifier, just picking out little melodies in a lullaby for himself. This little band of music-obsessed Goth kids who all somehow worked together, all of them weirdos in their own ways, doing what they loved and each of them pinching themselves to make sure they weren't dreaming. Even on bad days, when the rhythm wouldn't flow and the sound systems were fuzzy and the tour manager was a dick and the bus had a flat tire, it was still home, still safe, still good.

Kala knew why she was meditating on _home_. Because she'd found another one.

In training with some of the finest martial artists on the planet until even her super-stamina was knock-kneed and punchy, in starlite-lenses and kinetic-dispersal weave gloves and speedster boots and kevlar armor, in dangerous nights where she tested her speed and her wit and her guts against the worst that Gotham or the world had to offer, and across rooftops and down alleys with someone she'd _never_ imagined she could even tolerate, much less … well. It was safer not to say. She'd gone and found herself another home, in partnership with Jay and his family, Dick and Tim like brothers to her, Babs and Dinah and Helena the older sisters she'd never had, Bruce a favored uncle, Alfred slotting easily into the place of two grandfathers she'd never known. Kala fit in perfectly there, slipping into the shadowed streets like a second skin, her mind buzzing and her heart singing to the sheer joy of getting out there and doing some _good_.

It scared her sometimes, how much she loved being the Blur. Knowing that even with her powers, even with a generous dose of invulnerability, she was still at risk – that just made it sweeter. Out there on the Gotham streets, she might run into kryptonite or mind control or another metahuman, she could never take a single moment for granted.

Sebast rolled over then, burrowing into her back. He sighed happily, and Kala tried not to shiver as his breath ghosted over her neck. "You're so warm," he mumbled sleepily. "Gettin' cold out, but you're always warm."

And that was the greatest irony of all, that what had once been one of her deepest paths to feeling home – being with Sebast – was now painfully awkward. Not so long ago, she trusted him beyond everything else, held him as close as family – without needing to hide any of the things she kept quiet, not wanting to disappoint her parents. Or gross them out. She and Sebast had never had boundaries, they'd showered and slept together and talked about men in explicit detail. The intimacy had been comfortable, reassuring, _safe_.

Having sex hadn't changed it. Not at first. They had both simply stepped around that little fact, resolutely behaving as if it had never happened. No, what changed things was Kala getting involved with Jay. Ever since the summer, ever since she'd found herself attracted to that impossible man, things with Sebast had gotten weird.

And she would not, even now, let herself think about _why_ it had all become so strange.

There were things she couldn't tell Sebast, and it hadn't been an issue as long as the Blur was a hobby, a mask she wore. Now that she found herself in that persona, now that she was at home in Gotham and at someone else's side, Sebast could tell that something was missing. Nobody ever knew another person, not completely, not every tiniest detail. Even her parents could surprise each other on rare occasions, and by now they should've known everything. The bits Sebast didn't know and hadn't seen, they didn't matter to him until Kala put on that custom-built domino and let the Blur grow into something real and true.

Sebast couldn't know about the Blur. She trusted him, but _no one_ was ever told, the secret kept so close that not even Aunt Lucy and Uncle Ron knew it. And if Sebast found out that what he'd _thought_ was a tiny detail he'd overlooked was actually his best friend, business partner, and co-singer being half alien … he wasn't going to react well. Kala was certain of that.

She loved him and always would, and that should've been enough. The problem, that Kala refused to even think too closely on, was that she now had someone else in her life who challenged his place in her heart.

And Sebast knew it somehow.

His arm around her waist tightened possessively, and Kala bit her lip. Not for the first or last time, she wondered, _What am I gonna do about this? I can't lose Sebast … and I can't lose Jay, either._


	66. Act Seven: You Connect Me in Your Way

**Authors' Note:** The good news is, there's nothing heartbreaking in this chapter. The bad news is, there won't be a chapter next Sunday. We're taking the week off to plot, plan, and work on the major set-pieces that come later in the fic. We are winding this one down, and all that remains is to decide if we want to take it all the way through to our original ending - which will make this one longer than _Little Secrets_ \- or break it at a certain major time skip that's coming up.

I guess we should leave that up to you, our readers. Let us know in a review which you'd rather see: this story end on a good note, followed by another shorter fic with the same cast, or us see it through to the bitter end, no matter how long it takes?

* * *

Babs usually hated anyone leaning over her shoulder. It was what uninformed people did right before trying to 'help' her by pushing the chair, and dammit, the whole point of a wheelchair was giving its user some _independence_. Not reducing her to a passive passenger. Normally she'd make her feelings known with an artfully-applied elbow.

But this was Dick, and though things had changed a great deal between them over the years, he still had carte blanche to be in her personal space. Also, he knew better than to try taking over the chair. He just leaned in close because he was watching the same screen she was, and Babs let him, idly noting that he was still wearing the same cologne Donna had sent him for Christmas last year.

On the screen in front of them, Jay in his Tommy persona stood outside a warehouse in the cold, wearing a ratty old second-hand coat. "Are you sure this is wise?" Dick asked, yet again.

She replied lightly, "Afraid he'll slip back into old habits just because he's running with an unsavory crowd? You don't give him enough credit." He worried about Jay a lot. Babs could've told him there were a number of factors that gave Jay reason to hang on to his hard-won sanity, but one of them was Kala, and she wasn't going to share that news until the pair of them decided to.

"No, he's stronger than that. Jay never let peer pressure win." Dick straightened up with a shrug. "I just know it has to be hard for him, seeing the gangs and the drugs up close and having to let it slide because he's undercover."

"He's feeding us intel," Babs pointed out. "Not everything has to be his own personal crusade, because he knows he has backup now. That helps a lot, when you have to let things go that you don't want to."

Dick took a half-step aside and looked at her, and she could've kicked herself. Somehow Dick caused her to speak more generally than she should've, and it always ended up being something that could apply to them. Babs looked up at him over the edge of her glasses. "No, that wasn't an allusion to our checkered past. I meant it literally. He has to let the criminals he hates the most go free to maintain his cover, and he can only do that because he knows we'll pick them up."

"We're family. Looking after each other, picking up the slack, is what we do," Dick said, sounding a little easier in his mind. And then, with a little smile, "Even if it's a complicated kind of family."

"Understatement of the century," Babs laughed. "Besides, if we're _family_ , then we should really move to Deliverance."

That got Dick laughing. "You're terrible, Babs. It's not the same. We're not actually _related_. And we're the only ones who really get what this life is like."

"You don't have to tell me, I already know. Or have you forgotten your original redhead crush so soon?" This kind of banter was familiar territory for them both.

Dick tugged gently on a lock of her hair. "No one in their right mind would ever forget you. Besides, I think _everyone_ had a crush on you at some point." He smirked, and added, "It's that hot librarian fantasy."

Babs just shook her head. "And you're the hot acrobat fantasy. Everyone wants to sleep with the guy who can wrap his legs around behind his head."

He did a double-take at that, then laughed again. "Guilty as charged, I guess. I don't recall you complaining, though. Ever."

She gave him a crooked smile. "I complained plenty when we first met. Then again you were fifteen with a massive crush. Do you have any idea how horrifying it was being locked in that safe together?"

"You think it was horrifying for _you_ ," Dick replied. "I was frantically thinking about baseball the whole time. To no avail. Women have it easier, no one can tell what's on your mind by the state of your pants."

Reminiscing made Babs chuckle. "We got it right eventually, for a while. Once you were old enough that I didn't feel like I should turn myself in to the GCPD. I wasn't used to Robins with crushes back then. By the time Jay rolled around, I knew not to freak out."

"That comment he made about letting you have the top bunk did get around to me eventually," Dick remembered. "Jay was a lot cockier than I ever was at the same age. At least, with girls. I know he had a thing for me, but he was a lot less sure of himself."

There were notes in Jay's file where a smart person who'd seen the darkest side of Gotham could read a great deal between the lines, and if Dick hadn't drawn the same conclusions, Babs wasn't going to clue him in. She only said, "He couldn't decide if he had a crush on you or wanted to _be_ you. Or both. I'm convinced half of his flirting with me was because you and I were dating. And I bet he still doesn't realize you knew about it."

Dick sat down on the edge of the desk, facing her, bracing one foot against the axle of her chair. That was another thing that got on her nerves; people either tried to treat her like an invalid, or tried too hard to pretend like the chair wasn't there. Dick had learned to get past both attitudes, accepting the chair the same way Babs did, as a useful piece of tech much like her computer or their comm units. He was no more shy of it than he was of a cell phone. The only other person in her life who was on that same level was Dinah, and she was more likely to drape herself across both arms of the chair and Babs' lap when she felt neglected.

Dinah knew she was strong enough to handle that. Maybe that was why she and Dick were the two who were closest to Babs; they both relied on her strength instead of cringing from what they couldn't help thinking of as weakness.

"Yeah, none of that was fair to Jay," Dick said softly. "He shouldn't have felt like he needed to take my place. I wonder sometimes what would've been different if Bruce had given him a different title. Anything but Robin. It shouldn't have been a legacy role."

"Jay was going to compare himself to you no matter what he was called or what colors he wore," Babs replied. "The same way Helena, Cass, and Steph all compared themselves to me, or Donna and Cassie compare themselves to Diana. The same way Kala and Jason compare themselves to Clark. That's the nature of growing up as a cape, I think. Everyone needs role models."

Dick nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, but a lot of those weren't using the same name. And if you're going to mention the Wonders and Supers, it's weird that none of us are comparing ourselves to Batman."

Babs gave a dry chuckle. "You mean you and I aren't? We're both trying to be Bruce, without his particular bundle of neuroses. We outgrew the sidekick role and we don't have powers, so we're trying to build ourselves into the hero and mentor we wish we'd had."

"True. We don't need his baggage, we brought our own," Dick replied.

"You're the one who decided to carry on his particular trait of sleeping with all the attractive women," Babs teased.

He grinned at her. "What, Dinah's not an attractive woman? Ooooh, I'm gonna tell her you said that, Babster."

Babs smacked his bicep lightly. "My dance card is a lot shorter than yours. And lay off the nicknames."

"Of course. Wouldn't want to trample on your stately dignity." He looked seriously, but his blue eyes danced with mirth. "And in the meantime, you managed to lead me away from talking about our favorite wayward little brother having to pretend to be a bad guy again."

Well, if he wouldn't drop it… "He was never as bad as he wanted us to think. Yes, he killed people, but he proved conclusively he can stop doing that. Do I think he'd hesitate if he had Joker in his sights? Absolutely not. _Neither would I_. It's not some ethics-class discussion topic for me, it's not a philosophical problem. If Joker shows his face here I will do whatever it takes to stop him, and the most efficient way to accomplish that is a bullet."

"Self-defense is different than hunting him down," Dick said stubbornly. "And Jay's told us openly he'll kill Joker if he can."

"Then I suggest you get over it," Babs said with a final shrug. "He's _not_ hunting Joker. He's doing what we need him to do, what Gotham needs most at any given moment. He's out there trying to get an inside look at Crane's operation when he knows as well as I do that Joker's loose and plotting something. He's not insane, Dick. He's not driven by revenge. But he's damn sure not going to be a victim again. I can empathize."

Dick shifted uncomfortably. "You said once that Joker took nothing from you."

"He didn't change me at all," Babs replied. "I'm a helluva lot more than a working pair of legs. Joker threw me a curveball, fine, but he didn't take anything from me. I am not my body, Dick. I probably owe you an apology for shutting you out while I learned that – it wasn't easy, to get where I am."

"You don't owe me an apology for _anything_ ," Dick insisted, in that serious tone that reminded everyone who heard it just how long he'd been a hero. There was a great deal more to the man than Robin-wittiness and charm.

"Still. I cut everyone from _before_ out of my life while I figured out what the _after_ was going to be," Babs said. "For that, I'm sorry. But I knew all along that Joker would've _loved_ it if he'd made me a shivering fearful tragedy, the same way he'd love to think he made Jay a psychotic killer. What has to be driving that loony bastard even crazier is the fact that Jay and I are both better and stronger than he is. He couldn't really touch either of us. He didn't break us, he didn't scare us off, and he didn't turn us into him. That doesn't mean either of us are so noble that we're going to turn the other cheek and let him have another try."

Something flashed in Dick's eyes then, and Babs knew it was rage – almost homicidal fury. Almost, because Dick tried damn hard to stay on the brighter side of life, to be hope and inspiration to the rest. Batman was an ideal to his followers and a nightmare to his foes. Dick was encouragement to the team and relentless determination to the enemy. He had never been pushed to the brink of murder, and Babs hoped he never would be. She really didn't want to know what he'd do if his family was at stake … and what it would do to _him_ , if he broke the code. "He won't get to either of you if I have any say in the matter."

"That's why I have really good security. And Jay has League of Shadows levels of paranoia," Babs replied. "Plus close air support. You think Kala would let Joker get him? Or even if you're right and Jay is a lot closer to the edge than I think, you think Kala would let him go over? He's got a partner who can hear him _sneeze_ from orbit, and who won't hesitate to haul him out by the back of his jacket if she thinks he's in trouble."

Dick laughed a little at that. "Yeah, and he does the same for her. When she flared up at Ivy, he throttled her down. I never thought that would work out as well as it has. At least they managed to get past this whole crush business and work together."

Babs forced herself not to smile. They'd gotten past the crush, all right, and well into head over heels for each other. Not that either of the goofy kids would've _said_ so to each other, but she wasn't exactly good at relationships, herself, so she didn't presume to give advice. The evidence against her judgment was sitting right in front of her.

"They do make a good team," was all she said, with a little smile. "World's Finest 2.0, I believe Jay said once in my hearing. They're both forgetting Tim and Jason, but they're more of a Trinity 2.0 with Cassie in the mix."

Dick, meanwhile, broke into open laughter. "We need to tell Clark that. Bruce won't smile, but Big Blue would get a kick out of it."

…

Smallville, _finally_ , after a week on the road and week without Jay. A week in which she'd only been able to visit Gotham twice, partnering up with Huntress and Nightwing on brief patrols and missing the Bowery. Kala decided she was overdue for some down time, and left Derek and the road crew at the hotel in the next largest town, two hours' drive from Smallville. She and the band piled into a rental car and headed into town, knowing the Kent farmhouse had space for all of them.

From this direction, she had to pass _through_ town to get to what was now her brother's place, so Kala made a stop. Just a block off Main Street, she pulled into Carmichael's Garage and hurried over to the bays. At the moment, she could only see a pair of denim-clad legs poking out from under the hood of an older import, so she called out, "Excuse me? The nice man at the general store said I could get my blinker fluid changed here? I think my Nissan Camry is all out."

She heard a faint thump and muffled swear as the mechanic pulled back from under the hood, and saw Wade's scowl change to a grin when he caught sight of her. " _Kala!_ Hey there, pretty lady, welcome back to town. I shoulda known it was you, nobody else for miles would believe that blinker fluid crap. And I know you know an Altima from a Camry."

The boys had caught up by then, and there were handshakes and shoulder-thumps all around. In the middle of it, Dustin came walking out of the office, and did a double-take to see them all there. "Holy crap, it's a Goth invasion!" he laughed, beaming.

"We're coming to steal all the eyeliner in town," Sebast teased back, and there was a second round of handshaking, culminating in Dustin grabbing Kala in a bear hug and picking her up off the ground.

She laughed joyfully, hugging him back, and the ruminations of the last week flickered through her mind. The romantic side of things was long since over, but Kala felt at home in Dustin's arms and always would. "How's life treating you?" she asked. "You haven't posted much on Facebook lately."

"That's 'cause I'm too busy," he said. "I'm working, it's deer season, and I'm dating someone new. You be nice to her, you hear me, Kala Josephine?"

Kala arched a brow at him. Oh, this sounded familiar. What had he done now? "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you run off girlfriends like it's your job," Wade cut in. "Jason tells horror stories. So does Elise, actually. Did you really hit on her?"

"You know Elise. Of course I did. And she's cool, because she was my friend _first_ , remember, and _also_ because she's never done anything but roll her eyes at me when I do it. As for you, Dustin, your memory seems to be getting foggy because the last girl _needed_ running off," Kala said, eyeing him, arms crossed defiantly now. And he had better not argue that, when he knew it was the truth.

"Yeah, I won't make that mistake again," Dustin said, giving a shudder. "But I promise you, Olivia's a good one, though. So be nice, all right?"

The vexed expression hadn't moved an inch at that. "And you thought Meal-Ticket was, too, honey. Look, as long as she doesn't try to play jealous girlfriend and be bitchy to your ex, I won't bite," Kala replied frankly. "I have no tolerance for that shit, and you know it. And with good reason."

He rolled his eyes. "Jeez, Kala. Fine, since you're here, and you're in back where customers aren't supposed to be, I'm putting you to work. You've got small hands, help us get the bolts off the water pump in this damn Kia."

That was enough to break her foul mood. "Oh, lucky me," she laughed, but strolled over to the car gamely. Her band grouped up around it. They'd all been with her long enough to remember the early days, when they took care of their own vehicles instead of riding in the tour bus. The boys knew how to change tires, but they'd all been suitably impressed when Ned's car started to overheat fifty miles from anywhere and Kala short-wired the fan fuse so it'd blow continuously despite the faulty thermostat, and they could limp it carefully to the closest shop. She'd learned that trick from Dustin, and Sebast got him started telling tales about the ancient Oldsmobile that had been the twins' first car as Kala went over to the Kia.

Under the hood, it was a compact and confusing sight at first. "They don't make these to be easy to work on," Wade told her, frowning. "Hell, even the newer domestic stuff is a stone bitch. This one model SUV, you gotta take the damn tire off to get at the battery. Nobody works on their own cars anymore. I remember I could take my first car apart down the chassis, practically."

"Where even is the water pump in this thing?" Kala asked. "You got the Haynes manual for it? And does the owner know you're letting a rock musician work on it?"

Wade pulled out a small flashlight and pointed. "Way down in there. Four 10mm bolts, we got the bottom two going up from underneath, but the top two are a pain. Dustin can get his arm in but he can't get leverage. As for whose car, it belongs to Freddy's mother-in-law – the new guy we brought on, he's from out of state but he met his wife in college and she's from here. The Thompsons, out county road two-ten. The road your mom washed out on, ages ago – they paved it, finally. The Thompsons are good people, just bad taste in cars. Then again, they were advertising the hell outta these things a few years ago. Smaller, cheaper, more fuel-efficient, all that stuff."

"Fuel efficiency's not a bad thing," Kala said, taking the ratcheting crescent wrench from him and snaking her hand down past the serpentine belt. "Sebast and I were talking about getting a hybrid, but we barely drive in Metropolis. I might just get a Tesla. By the way, I'm ruining my manicure, I hope you know."

"Gotta admit, I like the acceleration on those things," Wade said. "Still feel like you should be able to _hear_ an engine. The Tesla's damn quiet. And there's a nail salon up in Hartwell you can go to and get your manicure fixed before your next show, superstar."

Kala just scoffed, finding the bolts by feel. The first one wasn't so bad, except for the location giving her too little room to rotate the wrench, so she had to ratchet it in short arcs. "They make an app for the Tesla that plays engine noises. Personally, that's too weird for me. I either want real engine noise, or quiet. Nothing faked."

"That's why you fit in here, black lipstick and all," Dustin opined. "You're about as real as they come. Now, your boys here, I dunno about them. Sebast always seemed like a faker to me."

That started a round of good-natured bullshit, the boys all giving each other grief, and Kala ignored it as she stood on tip-toe to reach the bolts. "Who designed this?" Kala muttered irritably. "Freakin' Slenderman?"

She ignored everything but the bolt until she finally got it out, and set it aside in the little magnetic tray nearby. That left one more bolt, and _that_ one didn't want to budge. Grumbling about how of _course_ they couldn't get in there with a breaker bar, Kala stole a glance at the boys. They were all completely absorbed, laughing and catching up. It was safe, maybe, to use just a _touch_ of her strength.

Working with Jay over the summer had taught her much finer control, so Kala applied her strength gradually – _very_ gradually. If she wasn't careful, she could strip the ratchet, or snap the wrench in half, or shear the bolt off, and _that'd_ be hard to explain. Gently, gently, just a _little_ of the strength, and her whole being focused on the stubborn bolt, willing it to move…

The bolt finally gave, breaking through whatever rust or grime held it. Kala's hand slipped, and she barked her knuckles sharply against the alternator. It hurt a bit, but she was more worried that she'd broken something, and that was why she snarled out, _"Fucker!"_

The sudden silence around her made her look up, only to see a girl in the doorway, looking perplexed. Dustin only laughed. "Hey Olivia, think we should keep the new grease monkey despite her foul mouth?"

Kala couldn't help it. "Kiss my city ass, Dustin Roy Carmichael, I got that stupid bolt loose for you," she snapped back, extricating her arm. A glance of x-ray vision showed that the bolt was indeed loose, not broken, and she hadn't dented the alternator, so she could sigh with relief. No awkward questions about how a girl like her could possibly break a metal bolt, then.

"Thanks, Kala," Dustin chuckled.

Olivia, a curly-haired brunette, stepped forward then with a determined smile and her hand already extended. "So _you're_ Kala. Pleased to meet you, I've heard so much about you. It's not every day a rock star comes to Smallville."

"In Smallville I'm not a rock star, I'm just Clark Kent's daughter. Or maybe Jason Kent's sister, if he admits to me that day," Kala replied. She started to take the girl's hand, and saw the black grease and grime all over hers from messing with the bolt. "Sorry, I'll get you filthy – _someone_ forgot to loan me some gloves."

Olivia laughed then, and grabbed her hand to shake it anyway. "You can't be afraid of grease when you're dating a mechanic. But you know that, right?"

"Of course. Best damn mechanic in Smallville, and briefly the best damn mechanic on the Goth-a-Palooza tour," Kala replied, grinning. "Never could get him to trade the cowboy hat for eyeliner, though."

"Why even try, when Sebast does it so much better?" Dustin put in.

Sebast, meanwhile, stepped forward and took Olivia's hand, bowing over it. "Pleased to meet you as well, beautiful lady. I am Sebast – and I do look better in eyeliner than he ever could. It's not his fault, he has many other charming qualities."

Kala rolled her eyes, Olivia quirked a brow, and Dustin snorted. "Don't mind him, Liv, he's harmless. He's more interested in me than you."

"Bitch, please," Sebast shot back, smirking. "We settled this years ago, I'm too high maintenance for you. Plus I can't stand your taste in music."

Dustin pointed at him, narrowing his eyes. "I still have video of you singing along to Carrie Underwood. Don't make me put it on Facebook."

Sebast shrugged. "Okay, _that_ song is good. Look, any song about busting up a cheater's car is good enough for me. If more women would bust out headlights, more men would stay their asses home. Having dated a good-for-nothing cheater in my _extremely_ checkered romantic history, I gotta say, I would've wrecked his car if the broke-ass _pendejo_ had one."

"Yup, I like him," Olivia laughed.

Kala smiled, already liking this one. "Then you're gonna love my whole pack of lost boys," she laughed. "Hey, Dustin, now that I did your job for you, how about we all descend on my brother and make him feed us?"

Dustin's eyes widened. "I … would not do that, without calling first. Have you talked to Elise lately?"

"No, only in texts since I was on the stop-over home. And that's been … God, it's been about three months. And she's gotten hold of me a few times since, but we've all been so busy," Kala said musingly, with a pang of guilt.

Wade scoffed at them. "Yeah, you gotta watch those girls from Back East when they're pregnant. I'd rather get trampled by an angry bull than piss Elise off, right about now. At least the bull won't make you feel like it's all your fault."

Dustin shrugged one shoulder. "She's a little moody. Last time I was over, she was on a tear about craving something and not knowing what the hell it was she wanted."

Pang of guilt, hell. More like a deluge. Why hadn't Jase told her? "Okay, fine, I'll call instead of showing up like a plague of locusts," Kala sighed.

…

Tommy – he wouldn't even let himself think the name Jay – kept his head down and kept loading the crates. Back-breaking work, but he had plenty of muscle. The other guys teased that he had muscle instead of brain between his ears, and he just looked perplexed before joining uncertainly in their laughter.

His 'character' for this cover was pretty thin, not far off Jay himself, only with a lower IQ and a lot less life experience. He'd drifted into Crane's crew as a thug hired to guard the money-making side of things; Crane was funding his research by cooking meth in industrial quantities. Tommy was the kind of guy who wouldn't complain about working around that toxic shit, and he followed orders well.

It seriously pissed him off to see so damn much meth heading out to the streets. He'd already alerted the Bats to where the shipments were headed, and where the waste was dumped, so they could keep it out of the water supply. Doing that without blowing his cover was difficult, but nobody suspected Tommy. He'd set himself up as an equivalent to Boxer, the cart horse from _Animal Farm_ , whose motto had been 'I will work harder'. No matter how the others teased him or stuck him with the worst jobs, he kept his head down and did whatever he was told.

And watched, and listened, and kept his face utterly blank so no one would guess that he was storing up information. Or comparing himself to characters from classic literature. That'd be a dead giveaway. Most of the guys around him probably hadn't read _Animal Farm_ in school, not if they could copy someone else's book report, but the higher-ups had.

Once the truck was loaded, Tommy stepped away, put both hands on the small of his back, and stretched until the crackling stopped. "Ya loaded half again as many crates as anybody else," one of the other guys said. "Gonna work yourself to death, Tommy boy."

"Gotta work if I wanna eat," he grunted in reply, and the rest of them laughed. While they all hung around the loading dock for cigarettes and bullshit, he went back to his post.

Which was how he was the only guard around when the salesguy he and Kala had seen in the warehouse showed up. For a moment, Jay surfaced, coming to full alert, but he quickly stamped down on his impulses. Tommy hadn't met this man. "Who're you?" he barked, sliding one hand to the butt of the gun in his waistband.

"Relax, we work for the same guy," the man said, holding his hands up slightly.

Jay knew from long experience that it was easier to fool a smart person than a slow-witted one. Smart people _knew_ they were smart, and were so certain of themselves that they didn't think they'd ever fall for a con. People who were sure they weren't very smart would stay suspicious a lot longer. So Tommy didn't back down. "I wasn't told t' expect anybody," he said warily.

The salesman sighed. "Call Roger. He'll vouch for me."

Stepping back, he said gruffly, "Stay right there." He ducked inside, calling out to the others, "Some guy's out here, says Roger knows him."

One of the other men ambled over, looked out, and gave Tommy an unfriendly thwack in the shoulder. "That's Mr. Sauers, you numbnuts," he grumbled. "Works right with Scarecrow."

"How was I s'posed to know?" Tommy complained, but they let Sauers in.

Sauers stopped, and looked shrewdly at Tommy. "I do admire a man who does his job well."

Tommy ducked his head and shrugged. "They said nobody comes in, I don't let nobody in."

Sauers stepped closer, his expression curious, and the other man said, "Nah, that's just Tommy. He's a half-wit. He does exactly what you tell 'im."

Somewhere down in the depths of Tommy's mind, Jay sat up and took notice. Sauers, meanwhile, just smiled. "That's a valuable trait in our line of work. Tommy, are you interested in a promotion?"

Tommy shook his head, as Jay thought fast. "They tell me I'm not smart enough to do much more'n guard stuff and load trucks," he explained. "Don' wanna desk job."

It was the right call, and Sauers grinned. "I want him on the inside crew," he said to the others. "I'll speak to Crane about it."

Tommy just looked mournful as they stared at him with contempt, and one of them said to Sauers, "You're gonna bring the retard in?"

Sighing, Sauers looked them over. "Gentlemen, a _smart_ man will always look for ways to get out of boring work. A dull one takes longer to train, but he's more loyal. And you never have to worry about him getting ideas above his station."

While they digested that, Tommy said pleadingly, "Just no paperwork, okay? I don't write so good."

Sauers laughed. "Don't worry, Tommy, it's just another guard job. I just need someone reliable watching over this set of merchandise. We'll get you set right up." He went on ahead, to speak to the lieutenants, and left the other man giving Tommy unfriendly stares.

"Still sounds like paperwork," he muttered, shuffling his feet, and the rest laughed at him. On the inside, Jay was grinning. One step closer to figuring out what was _really_ going on, and he hadn't even had to work at it.

Sometimes, things really could just go _right_.

…

Jason would never refuse his sister or her band, but he sounded frazzled over the phone. And when they arrived, Elise definitely looked it. Kala hugged her gingerly, as did Sebast, the rest of the band hanging back.

Of course, Jason had to pick Kala up too, and she yelped and thumped his shoulders. "Put me _down_ , I'm not a Chihuahua, why does every man in this town try to pick me up?!"

"'Cause you're little and cute, but you bite, just like a Chihuahua," Jason laughed, finally putting her down.

She mock-glared up at him, but Kala couldn't even pretend to be angry at her brother for long. "Jerk. At least you didn't say Yorkie."

He scoffed at that. "Nah, Sergeant and Pepper are well-behaved now. Chihuahuas are just as out-of-control as you are."

She smacked his arm for that, and Elise poked him in the ribs. "Be nice to your sister, jeez," she muttered. "You guys come in, I guess we'll feed you."

Jason grinned at his wife. "Hey, I haven't been nice to her for the last twenty-three years, why start now?"

"Because even Yorkies can learn to behave," Kala said, sticking her tongue out, and they all trooped in off the front porch. The farmhouse was much the same as ever; Elise and Jason had painted and rearranged things, but the huge dining room table was the same, only overshadowed by Wayne Manor's for seating capacity. Though that was an ornate piece, and this was meant to feed farmhands and children, a sturdy and reliable table. Jason hurried into the kitchen and laid out chips and dip for the band, promising sandwiches as well.

After the initial round of confirmation died down, Kala tugged Elise outside for some girl-talk and catching up. It was surpassingly rare for her to choose anyone's company over her brother's, but Jase looked relieved to see them off.

Kala took a long look and listen. "They're doing fine, sister-in-law," she reported. "How are _you_?"

Elise heaved a sigh that seemed to come from her toes, and looked heavenward. "Your mother is a goddamn _saint_. This _sucks_. I'm already huge and they think it's fun to kick my bladder and despite all the vitamins and supplements now I'm craving something and I don't even know what it is! That jicama that Jase likes on salad, I ate a whole one yesterday, but that's not it. Kala, I'm going freaking _crazy_."

She nodded slowly. "Mom'll love hearing that she's a saint. Listen, you're not _huge_ , you're _pregnant_. And the only thing I can maybe do something about is the cravings. I've got more opportunities for weird food than Iguanaman."

"Must be nice to just fly wherever," Elise said bitterly.

That was just hormones making her moody, and Kala shrugged. "I just spent two hours in a car with four boys who don't know what I am. I _wish_ I could've flown here. Give me some hints, babe. Is it sweet or savory? Fruit, veggie, meat? What comes closest?"

Elise grumbled at her some more. "Fruit, I think, but I've eaten every kind of apple and banana and citrus under the sun. I want something sweet but like … ice cream, and ice cream doesn't do it."

Kala cocked her head, thinking. "Hang on, let's go for a walk. I need to get out of sight. But I _think_ I might have some ideas."

"Sure, let's walk, my ankles are already so swollen I can barely stagger," Elise grumbled, but they set out.

The moment they were out of sight of the farmhouse, Kala told her with a smile, "Gimme about fifteen minutes, okay?"

What she wanted was native to South America, but Kala had found a good source in California, and that was much closer. A quick trip to an organic grocery store in San Francisco let her return to Elise with a shopping bag full of goodies. "All right, so this is Weird Fruits 101," Kala said, reaching into the bag. "At least, weird for Smallville. I've got pawpaw, dragonfruit, mangosteen, papaya, rambutan, and some gooseberries, 'cause I love all of it. But my favorite, and what I think you might be craving, is this: cherimoya."

Elise raised an eyebrow at the large green fruit that Kala held out triumphantly. "That looks like a dragon egg."

"It's also called a custard apple. It's freaking delicious. Just don't eat the skin or the seeds, they're both poisonous." Kala had remembered to pick up a paring knife, too, and she quickly cut the cherimoya open, planning to eat it herself if Elise wasn't interested.

The moment she did so, Elise's nostrils flared and her eyes widened. " _That!_ Holy shit, Kala, you're a freaking miracle, that's _it_ , that's exactly what I wanted!"

"Lemme cut it in half so you don't take my arm off trying to get to it," Kala laughed, and held out a slice. Elise dove in, and ate the whole damn thing in a couple of minutes, manners be damned.

And then she looked at Kala with a slightly crazed expression. "I need, like, a crate of those. _Yesterday_."

Kala could only laugh. "There's two more in the bag and I'll get you hooked up. C'mon, let's hide this in the fridge and pretend we were talking girl stuff."

Elise scoffed. "Yeah, in our case 'girl stuff' means molecular biology. How many people realize you can do that, Kala?"

"Not many," Kala admitted with a small smile. "There are a few, though. I've met a couple, here and there."

Crossing her arms, Elise stared at her. "This is why you always got caught whenever the cookie jar was empty. Because you can't help throwing hints around so everyone knows how sneaky you are. Kala, what are you up to now?"

"Nothing," she laughed in a sing-song tone. "He's on assignment anyway, so I can't introduce you. And I'm keeping this _way_ on the down-low. Like, say nothing to Brother Bear, all right?"

Elise narrowed her eyes. "On _assignment_? Are you finally dipping your toe into the caped community?"

"Could be a photojournalist," Kala said with a smirk. "C'mon, Elise, you know despite what they all say about Goth Barbie, if the capes thought I was on the market there'd be a fucking stampede. Besides, talking about relationships _is_ stereotypical girl talk."

"Yeah, and I'd pity them, because you'd get protracted and terrible revenge for that Goth Barbie bullshit," Elise replied dryly. "I work for Lucius Fox, remember. I've heard all the rumors about the new girl kicking ass in Gotham. Does Jason know you went up against Black Mask and Joker and Harley and Ivy already?"

"No, he does not, and he's not gonna find out anytime soon," Kala shot back.

Elise nodded. "He's frantic enough over these two. I don't need him deciding that he has to chaperon _you_. Not least of all because he'd get his interfering butt sent back here via air express."

They both laughed at that, knowing how well Kala took to brotherly supervision. "He's only a minute and a half older, but he always has to be the big brother. Whether I want him to or not. You'd never guess I can have whole relationships without him lurking in the background waiting to pulverize anyone who breaks my heart."

"He's gonna be a nightmare as a dad. Look, Kala, just tell me you know that the Bat-boys all have issues, okay? Grayson's really hot, I know, and he's a sweet guy, but he's not exempt from that." Elise looked at her sternly.

It was on the tip of her tongue to deny, _again_ , that she was not at all involved with Dick … but Kala stopped herself. If she said that, Elise would know she was seeing Jay. There was _no way_ Kala and Tim could ever be involved, after all, Elise knew them both. And she didn't want Elise thinking too hard about Jay.

There were going to be questions – lots of them – and Kala wasn't looking forward to that. Especially not when things with Jay were still so new. They'd _just_ barely put a name to this between them, and only then because they were out in public at the time. And even more, she didn't want to discuss it when Jay was undercover and couldn't speak for himself.

So Kala just shrugged. "Don't we _all_ have issues? Except you, I mean. You and Jason basically have your shit squared away. But everyone in the caped crowd is a little bit crazy. You know me well enough to know I'm not much better off than any Bat."

That earned her an eye-roll. "I've met Batman, remember. His issues have issues. Kala, you could never be that torqued-up, even if you tried. But I guess you're right, it says something about the world we live in that you think I've got my life together, and I'm the alien incubator here."

"Hey, watch it," Kala said warningly. "Those are my nieces and/or nephews you're talking about. Also, if Jason heard you say that, he'd have a cow. You're his wife and the love of his life, not just an incubator."

"Yeah, some jokes he can't make," Elise sighed. " _Men._ I thought you had gotten out of dealing with 'em, for a while."

"Unfortunately, I still like both flavors," Kala replied with a shrug. "Let's get back before they come hunting us. You're in a _delicate condition_ , remember."

At least she'd gotten Elise laughing again with that.

…

Selina's cell phone buzzed, and she glanced at it. Not smart when she was behind the wheel, but the notification was a text from Bruce. He was probably on rounds right about now. "Sorry, honey, I'm busy," she said aloud, despite being alone in the car.

It was very nice, a customized Mercedes that rode like silk despite the fact that she was taking down twisty cobbled streets. Selina had given it the once-over when she picked it up, impressed by the luxury package. All the bells and whistles, leather seats, built-in GPS, a high end sound system currently playing the classical station and sounding like she had a full orchestra in the back seat. She was almost tempted to keep it.

That would be going too far, however. Selina pulled up at her destination and parked facing the river. She gathered her purse and her phone, the only personal items in the vehicle, though she'd hoped the owner would've left something of sentimental value in it. Ah well, beggars couldn't be choosers, and thieves couldn't expect a windfall on every score.

She got out, leaving the parking brake on, and glanced around. At this hour of the night, the streets were silent, the car's quiet engine rumble the only noise for blocks. That would change, shortly. Selina leaned in and took the brick she'd brought with her off the passenger floorboard, setting it gingerly on the gas pedal. The car's engine raced.

Quick, now. Selina let off the parking brake and jumped back as the Mercedes lunged forward. It crossed the empty street and headed out onto the pier, gaining speed. She should've left, she had a cab to meet in three blocks, but she wanted to see this through.

Off the end of the pier and into the Seine with a huge splash, and Selina let herself smile even as she turned to walk briskly – never run – away from the scene. She'd catch a plane in minutes, be back in Gotham by sunrise thanks to flying west, and hopefully Bruce would never realize she'd flown to Paris. He'd been overprotective ever since he'd found out about the job in Metropolis.

Maybe sinking Talia's car in the river would teach the Demon's Daughter not to use Catwoman as a pawn. Or maybe it'd just annoy the hell out of her. Either way, Selina wasn't afraid of reprisals. She'd scored the window with diamond-tipped claws just so Talia would know _exactly_ who had swiped the vehicle.

Her phone buzzed again, and she glanced at it. Not Bruce this time, just Holly letting her know she'd gone by to feed the cats. And let herself be spotted in the cat-suit, too, if only briefly. All in the name of plausible deniability; Selina wanted to be able to blink innocently at Bruce if he heard about this one, and say that Catwoman had been in the East End the whole time, right where she belonged.

Which only left the recording devices she'd planted in the offices and labs of Guyot-Perrin as potential evidence of her visit. It had only taken Selina a few days of research to figure out which Paris-based company had leased from L-Tech, and to get plane tickets under an assumed name to pay them a call. The thing was, nothing about it looked shady to her.

Bruce had Oracle on tap, he could get at anything he needed from this company's computers. But he'd done the one thing he really, _really_ should've known better than to do, and gotten Selina curious about the whole situation. Now she had to know just what was up.

Ever since she'd chosen the name Catwoman, people – capes, cops, everybody – had tried to warn her away from things by quoting that old adage to her. 'Curiosity killed the cat.'

Strange how none of them remembered that it was only _half_ the saying. 'Curiosity killed the cat, but _satisfaction brought it back_.' And Selina Kyle had a reputation for not unhooking her claws until she was satisfied with something.


	67. Somebody Else Might Take My Place

It was game night at Jason's house, and the gaming gods were not smiling on Kala. After she'd died for the third time in a single raid, she left the boys and headed upstairs, muttering about Jason giving her a jinxed controller. She could still hear them; Dustin and Liv had come over, and her four boys were still holding their own. Robb had taken over playing primary damage after Kala left, and he was yelling at Jason to heal him. Jase was yelling back that he couldn't _see_ Robb and tank had priority, anyway, which was how Kala had died the first two times.

She headed up to her room, opened the window, and stepped out onto the front porch roof. From here, the view was of the long road leading into Smallville proper, and acres of pasture and cropland. Kala sat with her knees drawn up and her chin propped on them, listening to the sound of the wind and the frogs singing in the pond out back. She smiled, remembering their first visit to Smallville, when Jason had caught Fred the Frog and chased her with it. Seventeen years later, she still felt a little indignant at the thought that anyone might've believed she was scared of the _frog_. She just hadn't wanted Jase to get mud all over her. Not that it'd worked, they'd both gotten a bath out of the experience. Jason had gotten hosed down in the back of the yard first, he was so filthy.

That had been the day she met Dustin, Wade, and Cathy. She chuckled a little, wondering just what kind of first impression _that_ had been.

The window opened behind her, and Sebast stuck his head out. "Hey, _mamita_ ," he said. "I came to see if you wanted company. Didn't expect to find you on the roof."

Kala grinned at him. "We all know I'm part spider monkey. I come by it honestly; Dad used to clamber around on the roof when he was a kid. I wouldn't mind the company, but I don't want to steal you from the game."

"Nah, they're fine without me. Besides, it's not as much fun without you screeching up and blasting bad guys into bits." He looked at the roof, then at her, leaning against the sill. "Are you sure this is safe?"

Kala clucked at him, and he stuck his tongue out at her. "I'll catch you if you start to go over, Chupi. Come on."

Sebast made his way out carefully, and sat down beside her. It was getting dark, and rather chilly, so she smiled to see he'd brought her jacket as well as his own. Kala didn't actually _need_ it, but she shrugged into it with quiet thanks.

She had perched on the edge, letting her legs dangle, and Sebast looked down for only a moment as he joined her. "You're not afraid of anything, are you, _mi_ Kala?"

"Oh, I'm afraid of a lot," she laughed bleakly. "You know that better than anybody else."

"Yeah, but you're not afraid of falling, or getting beat up, or anything like that," he countered. "Just, you know, usual shit. Like change. Or losing someone you love."

Kala had been about to make a joke about being afraid of falling after all, but she turned to him with stricken eyes at that. Sebast shrugged. "You worry about the whole band, _querida_. And your brother and Elise. And Dustin. And every relationship you've ever been in. Shit, you're so protective, now you're trying to keep my teeth outta Derek's ass."

Sighing, glad they were on a safer topic than she'd thought, Kala replied, "Derek … people don't become assholes like that without a reason. I mean, he annoys the living shit out of me, too. But I remembered he's human, and he didn't choose us, either. Maybe we should be more civil."

"He might be an android. The Manager-Bot 2000." When she laughed, Sebast leaned back a little, his grin fading. "I haven't forgotten that he tried to snatch that mic stand from you, and you damn near smacked him with it. He _still_ doesn't realize we're not children, or cannibals, or cannibal children maybe. Seriously, half the time he looks at us like we're gonna steal the bus and run it off a cliff, and then he treats us like we've got one damn brain cell to share."

"Yeah, but … you never know how much weird shit people are dealing with. I mean, look at me. Nobody realizes the kind of issues I have." She looked away as she said it, thinking of the Empress.

"Well, a few people realize," Sebast corrected, rubbing her shoulder gently. "And mostly it's people who love you and admire the shit out of you for not letting that hold you back. After what happened when you were six … fuck, you'd never get me in a pool again. I might not even get in a bathtub."

Kala tried for a flippant grin. "The smell would drive you nuts."

"Showers, bitch," he laughed. And then, quietly, "I know there's shit you haven't told me about, with Nevada. And if you wanna talk, I'm here. If you don't wanna talk, I'm still here."

She swallowed, her throat tight, all of it rising up in her chest. Just spill the whole secret, who and what she was, Luthor, the Empress, _Dru-Zod_ , all of it.

The tiny voice in the back of her brain whispered, _He'll hate you for lying. But for the monster in your brain and the blood on your hands, for_ _ **that**_ _he'll_ _ **fear**_ _you._

Kala shuddered, unable to bear that thought. One reason why she was so drawn to Jay was that he'd seen the worst of her, and wasn't afraid. Hell, he was _flirting_ with the Empress, thrill-junkie that he was.

"Easy, _mi alma,_ " Sebast said gently, tugging her over to lean on his shoulder. "I got you. You don't gotta spill it all. Just promise me you're working on this shit, not letting it fester."

Nodding, Kala said in a tearful voice, "Why does everything have to be so complicated?"

Sebast turned and kissed her hair. "Well, maybe when we were waiting to be born, we got to pick the difficulty level of our lives. I was the lazy-ass casual who went for easy mode, and you picked hardcore."

Her laughter at that was a touch too loud, mostly because it had a ring of truth to it. "Can I change modes mid-game, then? I'm getting real sick of the boss fights."

Sebast chuckled. "I'll let you know if I figure out how, okay? I think I might've screwed up in the character creation and put too many points into charisma."

Kala rolled her eyes. "There's no such thing as too much charisma. Not when you're playing a bard."

"Yeah, you _said_ you were playing a bard, but you keep taking levels in some kind of fighter class," Sebast teased. "You trying to go multi-class on me? Do I need to start cross-leveling in rogue or something?"

"Please, you're the purest definition of _rogue_ ," Kala taunted back.

Both of them laughing, Sebast wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her tight before blowing in her ear. Kala _hated_ that and always had, so of course he used it to pester her. She yelped and poked him in the ribs, squirming and swearing. Sebast just blew in her ear again.

The playful wrestling went on until Sebast leaned a little too far, felt his balance waver, and flung himself back to clutch the roof with a decidedly unmanly squeak. Kala snickered at him; she'd been running rooftops enough that this meager drop didn't bother her, and spending time with Bats led her to forget that normal people didn't like heights. "Okay, so, maybe roughhousing on the porch roof wasn't one of our saner ideas."

Still attempting to plaster himself to the surface, Sebast looked up at her wild-eyed. But after a moment, he managed a grin. "It's worth it see you laughing. _Mi_ Kala, your face wasn't made for brooding. You're supposed to be happiest, most angst-free Goth in the band, remember?"

Completely at ease despite the drop beside her, Kala turned sideways to regard him. "Yeah, well, some of the stuff I've seen will make anyone broody."

"Not you," Sebast said, un-sticking himself reluctantly. "C'mon, Kala. Everyone else can think you're a scary serious person. _I_ know what a great big dork you are. You're a gamer geek, you own the boxed set of Meerkat Manor DVDs, you watch shitty Mexican horror movies with your hetero-lifemate, and you can quote Lord of the Rings from the books, not the movies."

At 'hetero-lifemate', Kala had to force herself not to wince. She _had_ been neglecting Sebast. And for the last eight years of her life – including that winter when she'd almost lost herself – he had been right beside her. Always believing in her, always encouraging her, always making her laugh when she got bogged down in frustration or despair. Sebast had loved her even when she hadn't loved herself.

"Yeah, well, who got me started on those movies?" she asked, lips quirking up in a grin. "You and your ten-minute diatribe on Mexican horror movies 'culturally appropriating' a Boricua cryptid. Which was all an excuse to go see the first one because you thought one of the actors was hot."

"Hey! I am deeply offended that the Chicanos stole the chupacabra from us," Sebast said. "They see a dog with mange and lose their shit, then the Texans think they have it too. Now you got people in fuckin' _Maine_ saying they saw a chupacabra. Bitch, the goat-sucker doesn't wear flannel, his hairless ass would freeze in Maine."

Kala started snickering uncontrollably. "Oh, God, _stop_! Don't, Sebast, if you get really wound up I'll laugh so hard I fall the fuck off this roof."

"You're the one who wanted to sit out here and contemplate life," he shot back. "I love you, but that's a blanquita move if ever there was one. Only a white person sits on the edge of a fuckin' roof to think. Us Latinos have more survival instinct."

She couldn't help the whoop of laughter that escaped her then; thanks to their semi-nocturnal habits, most of the Bats were quite pale, and Jay was the palest. Also the most likely to brood on the very edge of the roof, and in general the biggest risk-taker in the family. Kala knew Sebast was right, about her at least; her Kryptonian ancestry meant she couldn't tan, her body absorbing the sun's rays to fuel her powers instead. And someone who routinely flew miles above the earth couldn't be afraid of a single-story drop.

Once she managed to get herself under control, all Kala said was, "That's _racist_ , Sebast," knowing he would roll his eyes theatrically at that.

"Woman, please. By _definition,_ racism is institutional, so dissing on white people for your fucked-up habits cannot be racism when the whole system is rigged your way," Sebast said, without heat. His tone was more pedantic than anything else. "At least not in a country where you're still the majority – but watch your ass, Hispanics are coming up fast. Pretty soon we're gonna be saying 'Don't come to America unless you speak _Spanish_.'"

"Hey, you were here before me," Kala said with a shrug. "Considering I was born in Paris and didn't come here 'til I was three." Never mind that half of her own heritage was from a lot further away than France.

Sebast smirked. "This is why I love you. You're not worried about it. Then again, I made sure your Spanish is good enough that with a shitload of bronzer, you can pass. Also the fact that you're not racist at all. Not even the accidental kind that most people don't realize they are."

"My parents are _reporters_. We were brought up to have ethics. And actively working not to be racist is like, How To Be a Decent Human Being 101," Kala replied with a shrug. "Not to mention, look at my family. Look at our life. My godfather isn't from this _planet_. Why should I look down on anyone closer to home than he is?"

"Other people manage it," Sebast laughed. "Still, I don't need to solve the world's problems tonight. I just need _you_ to be a little happier. And in the creamed corn capital of the world, a place you and I managed to infect with funky hair colors and guyliner, you damn well should be happy."

"I am," Kala protested.

Sebast cocked his head to look at her, turning solemn again. "You don't seem happy, _querida_. Half the time you don't seem _here_. Your mind is everywhere else. It's been better since we got to Smallville, but this whole tour it's like you've been … waiting for a chance to run off into the night."

"Sebast," she complained, and he held up a hand.

"No, don't get mad at me, I'm not trying to pick on you," he continued. "It's just … usually your whole focus is the band. Even when you were sneaking around with Marlene, you were still right here with us most of the time. But now, it's like half your mind is on something else. The only time you're really here is when you sing. The rest of the time, you can't want to get gone. Is it just this guy, or is it something else?"

She sighed, and pressed the heels of her hands against her forehead, wanting to rub her eyes and knowing she'd smear her makeup. "It's … it's different with him. It just is. It's like … part of myself that I didn't know was still there woke up over the summer, and I'm trying – as stupid and teenage as this sounds – I'm trying to figure out who I am."

Sebast watched her gravely. He gave her a small, gently-teasing smile. "You sure picked the best time to do it, _mi_ Kala."

She could only pout at him for a second. "I'm trying to balance things, but clearly my balance is for shit, if it's that far out of whack."

He shrugged. "Shit, I'm glad it's a guy. I was thinking it was something we did, or maybe you were just struggling mightily with the urge to strangle Derek."

"Well, there's that, too," Kala laughed bleakly. "It's nothing you or anyone else did. God, I sound like a girl in a Hallmark movie saying this, but … it's not you, it's me."

"Trying to find yourself," Sebast said thoughtfully, and when Kala nodded, he reached up and tapped her temple, a little harder than could be called 'gentle' but not roughly. " _Blanquita_ , you're _right here_. _I_ know who you are. I've been right here with you long enough that I know you as well as I know myself."

She managed not to give a bitter chuckle. Oh, Sebast knew her – _half_ of her. And it was starting to drive her crazy, keeping secrets from him. For the last eight years, she'd been able to keep her Kryptonian side hidden. After Dru-Zod's death, Kala Kal-El had gone quiet, subsumed by Kala Lane-Kent and the rising star of KLK. But she was starting to realize that was an intermission, not an ending. She could no more turn her back on the legacy she'd been born to than she could walk away from the one she'd built for herself.

She could only shrug. "You know, we all figure out things about ourselves that we didn't expect. Sometimes there's things we just can't understand at the time. Or that we thought about, and never thought were possible, but then it pops up again. And you've gotta chase it down and understand it." Kala caught his gaze and held it, thinking about the differences in Sebast this tour. "You tryin' to tell me you didn't learn anything new over the summer?"

As she spoke, he'd been watching her with steadily widening eyes, and he almost flinched at the question. "Yeah, I guess you got a point," Sebast said.

"What, you don't wanna tell me?" Kala asked playfully. "Or you still trying to figure it out, too?"

Sebast leaned close, searching her gaze. Chills ran down Kala's spine – just what _had_ changed about him? And what did it mean for her, for them, for the future they were still so blithely planning together despite all the strife? Then, with a flash of his usual sharp humor, Sebast grinned. "It'd serve you right if I told you Morgan's not as straight as he thought – but alas, he remains disappointingly hetero. I didn't spend the summer finding out how deep he can swallow."

Kala rolled her eyes and flung her hands up. "You're impossible!" she laughed.

"Impossibly sexy, and he still doesn't see it," Sebast said mournfully.

At least the tension between them was gone. Kala leaned back against him, rolling her eyes. "Oh, stop. You're still the most impossibly handsome and attractive man on the face of the earth. You vain Goth peacock, you."

Sebast hugged her close, and kissed her hair. "Yeah, well, I'm glad _you_ know it. Just … spend some time with your bestie, dammit! I miss you. And I'm worried your martial arts guy – whose name you've so carefully avoided saying, and don't think I haven't noticed – might be hotter than me."

Scoffing, Kala elbowed him. "He's pretty enough that _you_ were eyeballing him at the Gotham show! And his name is Jay, all right?"

"But is he sexier than me?" Sebast asked in his most dramatic plaintive tone, clutching her to him. Kala couldn't resist a snort of laughter. "I haven't seen him close enough to tell. You should get him to sext you some pics so I can compare. I need like, one shower shot, and a dick pic."

Kala covered her face in her hands and groaned. "You're impossible."

"You already told me that," he pointed out. "Also sexy pics of hot boys are always welcome. Remember that when you're dating."

"We can't share, we proved that in high school," Kala scolded.

"I know, I just wanna see," he teased back.

Just then, Jason stuck his head out the window. "I came to check on you guys," he said. "Everything okay?"

Kala looked at her twin with the purest and most uncomplicated love of her life. Before she could respond, Sebast tugged her close again and said, "We were about to have mad, passionate sex on a sloped roof in full view of the highway. As one does, y'know."

Jase looked appropriately horrified, and Kala laughed and swatted at Sebast. "You utter cheeseball! Knock it off!" Sebast just cackled at her.

"Yeah, I'll leave you to it," Jason sighed, ducking back inside. "Come in when you're done."

"Thanks for your approval," Sebast snickered.

Kala pulled away from him, but her smile was more certain, and she took his hand, turning serious. "Hey. You know I love you, right?"

The merriment drained away, and Sebast just stared at her for a moment. "I know, Kala. You know I love you, too. Just … remind me a little more often, okay?"

She touched his cheek. "My schedule's basically free for another week, at least. I'll give you so much attention you'll get sick of me."

"Never happen," he said staunchly, then turned it again, grinning. "If I can put up with Ned's snoring for months on the bus, I'll never get tired of you. At least _you_ don't snore. And your toes doesn't even get cold."

"Yours do," Kala said. "And your nose, which you always have to shove right into the back of my neck when I'm asleep."

"It's how I let you know I have your back," Sebast replied.

That gave her a twinge, making her think of Jay, who always covered her back in a fight. She couldn't go to him, though – she'd destroy his cover. And Sebast needed her more right now.

Maybe the timing wasn't completely awful, after all.

Anything else either of them might've said was cut off by Sebast looking off to his left. "Look! A shooting star. Wish on it, _mi_ Kala."

The bright light streaked across the sky, and she knew it was just a tumbling bit of rock falling to earth. She knew that her father could fly fast enough to be mistaken for a meteor, setting the very air on fire around him. Still, seeing one felt lucky, special, magical, and Kala made her wish with her heart in her throat, hoping against hope that she and Sebast and Jay could all be happy, that she could figure out this balance between her best friend and her lover, her partner in music and her partner in crime-fighting.

Only later did she wonder what Sebast had wished for.

…

Tommy would've liked working for Scarecrow, if it hadn't made him inexplicably uneasy. Jay, hiding beneath the persona of Tommy, had met Crane before, and was glad he looked Tommy over once and dismissed him as simply hired muscle, and dim to boot.

Crane was tall and skinny to the point of being gaunt, the kind of man Jay tended to dismiss in a fight. He had some training, true, but the threat he presently was more mental and emotional than physical. Jay knew his own strength, and figured if he got hands on Crane, he could pretty much snap the good doctor in half. The only problem was getting his hands on the guy; Crane was pretty good at keeping out of reach.

Jay knew his history. He'd been regularly picked on and beaten up throughout his school years; there was a nutjob grandmother too. His obsession with fear and his skill at evading a punch were both legacies of trauma and abuse. Jay could sympathize with that, though he'd never been the underdog, too much of a scrapper and too willing to fight back even when badly outnumbered. Bullies left young Jason Todd alone and went for easier pickings … then more often than not found themselves getting blindsided by Jay, who stuck up for the kids they singled out.

Still, Crane was a grown-ass adult now, he had a fuckin' doctorate, he could have chosen to be better than every bully who ever stole his lunch money or tripped him in the hall or called him Ichabod. He could've taken his obsession with fear and turned it into ways to help people paralyzed by anxiety or PTSD. Instead, he became a bully himself, a slightly more sophisticated one, but he was still getting his revenge years later.

The rest of the Gotham rogues respected his intelligence and were wary of his fear toxin, but they didn't respect or fear _him_. Not the way Black Mask or Two-Face were respected, not the way Ivy or Joker were feared. Jay loathed Sionis and he figured Dent just took the whole coin-flip thing to a _ridiculous_ extreme, but both men had some shreds of leadership qualities. Mask was violent and temperamental, true, yet he still knew how to build a criminal organization and get things done and earn the loyalty of his men. Jay had studied him as he'd studied the other bosses, deciding what to emulate and what to discard. As for Dent, you couldn't call him unfair, and the kind of men who could live with betting their lives on the spin of his coin were absolutely loyal to him. He had a certain kind of charisma, carried over from his days as white-knight district attorney, and he wore his scars without shame or apology.

That was organized crime, though, and most of the rogues in the city didn't go for it. They were loners, perhaps running with a partner or a handful of henchmen, but they were the scarier ones and couldn't hold followers. Very few people ever trespassed on Killer Croc's sewers, and other masks gave Poison Ivy a wide and cautious berth. Of the lone wolves, Joker had the biggest following, and Jay figured that came down to a couple of reasons. One, he attracted people as mentally unbalanced as he was, who couldn't properly assess the danger to themselves. That was Harley, especially, who should've fucking known better but still got sucked into his orbit. The mad felt a kinship with Joker, thinking he shared their fractured worldview as the rest didn't. Jay knew there was more to Joker than madness, though. The bastard was _smart_ , canny and patient. He could be whimsical, true, that quicksilver change in mood and goals was the scariest thing about him, but he also knew how to lay a long-term plan and follow it carefully while appearing to be utterly off the rails. Unlike his followers, Joker knew the risks – and just didn't care.

Dinah had been right, it would've made the sick bastard happy to die at Jay's hands, imagining the guilt he'd feel, the recriminations from Bruce. The fact that Joker himself would be dead, and painfully, wasn't the Clown's concern. _That_ , ultimately, made him the scariest of all Gotham's villains. He loved causing chaos, and he followed no rules, not even the most basic ones of survival. That supreme disregard gave him a kind of charisma of his own, which was the second reason Jay figured he always had followers. Joker was fascinating, the way people used to think snakes would entrance their prey, and again Harley was the proof.

Lastly, the simple fact was that Joker _was_ the scariest sonofabitch in a town full of really scary people. Some people followed him because it was easier to fear one unbalanced leader than to go through their lives fearing everyone else in the city. Nobody poached on Joker's turf or bothered his people or looked wrong at Harley. He'd take someone apart for that, literally, and the worst thing about it was he didn't even seem _angry_ about the offense. He just … laughed. The laugh that Jay knew in his nightmares.

Maybe part of the reason Scarecrow was making this bid was to earn his rank among the bigger operations in town. And maybe he was also doing it to prove he understood the nature of fear better than the Clown himself. Jay privately thought that was a mistake. Joker didn't care to master fear. He was in this for a laugh, valuing a good joke more than cowering minions. He used fear, of course, he was perfectly aware of his reputation and the impression he made, but he would not bother to proclaim himself its master. To him it was only a tool, one of many, and not an obsession.

Crane was _deeply_ obsessed. Tommy did whatever he was told, literally and thoroughly and without distraction or shirking or questioning, so he got to see the guy more than he was really comfortable with. When Crane was working, poring over data or fussing over the animal test subjects or examining the chemical formulas for the toxin itself, he paid very little attention to his surroundings. If disturbed, he got snappish, laying about him with brilliant cutting wit rather than physical force, but one dressing down tended to leave his people cowering.

Even the cocky sales guy, Sauers, was humble in Crane's presence. Tasked with guarding the lab, Tommy overheard snippets of their conversation, the fawning tone Sauers always used. Crane was a little more forgiving of him than he was of the rest. Mostly, the doctor held himself aloof, acting as if none of them had the intelligence to follow a conversation, or were remotely interesting enough for more than half a dozen words.

He was brittle, Jay thought. Liable to break. And in this circumstance, take a whole lot of innocent people with him.

No one had shown Tommy where they were keeping the human test subjects, but he'd heard conversations complaining that they were hard to find. Yeah, after Mask's organ harvesting over the summer, the surviving homeless population was wary. Also Crane wanted healthy subjects with no evidence of prior mental illness, and that was tough to find. He'd have to kidnap more difficult targets.

Jay wanted all the data he could glean, but mostly he wanted a sample of Crane's fear toxin, something they could use to develop an antidote. He still hadn't built up enough trust to know where _that_ was kept.

Room and board was provided for the security team, and he went to bed on a narrow mattress in a tiny little broom-closet of a room. It was pretty obvious to Jay that the space had once been larger, and he wondered why it wasn't arranged like a dormitory. They could've housed more men that way … but maybe Crane was more interested in having fewer men who were more loyal, hence the privilege of privacy.

That was just an academic question, though. Jay found it hard to fall asleep, his mind spinning. The lack of Kala beside him didn't help, either. He tossed and turned and finally took a few nips from the bottle of cheap scotch he'd brought with him. No more than a couple shots, he couldn't risk dulling his instincts or slowing his response time. The warm bloom of alcohol in his belly did finally relax him enough to let him slip into sleep.

It was dark, the warehouse dim and echoing around him, and Jay tensed, trying to see where the walls were, where enemies might appear. The space was too vast for that, and he felt exposed, alone, threatened. A deep sense of foreboding pressed on him, the awareness that the Joker was out there somewhere, and Jay listened for that obscenely-cheerful laugh. Or the sound of a crowbar being thwacked into a palm, testing the weight and heft of the tool.

"He's not here," a voice said, and Jay whirled, falling into a defensive crouch. At least he was well-armed, a carefully-maintained Glock in each hand, not the stolen pistol Tommy carried. Jay felt the kris in its sheath at the nape of his neck, felt the reassuring weight of extra bullets clipped to his belt, felt the belt itself loaded down with all the best Bat-toys. He relaxed, a little, orienting on the voice. It sounded like a kid. "Who's not here?" Jay called out, making his voice low and gruff and threatening.

"You know who," the kid replied from somewhere in the shadows. The voice was familiar, the cadence snarky, as if he was a slow student. "The Clown. Our killer."

" _Our_ killer?" Jay asked, hair rising on the back of his neck. "Come out where I can see you."

"Well, my killer. _You_ said you were just something he helped make. Always some _thing_ , never some _one_. Too hard on yourself, but why not? Everybody else is." The kid was circling him, and Jay strained his eyes against the dark.

Who the fuck was this? He didn't believe in ghosts. Jay turned to keep facing the voice. "I dunno who the hell you think you are, but if you didn't sound like a kid, I'd've already shot you," he growled.

A laugh in the dark – not _that_ laugh, this one was cynical as only a bitter thirteen-year-old could be. "Yeah, you don't shoot kids. You'll shoot anybody who hurts a kid, though. And you never shot anybody that didn't deserve it. Don't freak out now, Jaybird."

That was a personal nickname, and Jay bristled even more at it. "Fucking show yourself then, coward."

"I never could learn to ignore taunting," the kid said philosophically, and stepped into the light. "Bruce always said I had to control my temper."

Jay … just stared, guns lowering. That was _him_ , thirteen-year-old him in the Robin suit, pixie boots and all. He knew that insouciant grin and the way the kid propped his fists on his skinny hips, jutting out a chest he didn't actually have. He'd seen it in the mirror, and in news clippings. It was _him_.

"This is a dream," Jay said slowly.

" _Duh,_ " his younger self replied, drawing out the syllables. "For a straight-A student, you're real slow. Been playing Tommy too long."

"Shut up," Jay grumbled, glancing around. "Is Joker gonna show up and I have to save myself from him? I've shot him often enough, in dreams a bit like this."

"Nah, those are the dreams where he comes after you and you're already grown up," Robin – it was easier to think of him that way, than as Young Jay or something – said dismissively. "Sometimes you win and kill him in those dreams 'cause you think you're too big and strong to be hurt now. Sometimes you shoot him and he doesn't die and kills you anyway, 'cause you know Joker isn't just Joker in these dreams. He's more than that. He's like a Churchill quote, the sum of all your fears."

"Fuck, all those years of not going to therapy, now my kid-self shows up to analyze me," Jay grumbled.

Robin scoffed at him. "Someone's gotta smack some sense into you. Anyway, no, Joker's not here. He doesn't really matter all that much to your future, does he? You have backup now, it's never gonna be just you and him alone in a place like this. All you'd have to do is yell her name, and she'd come in and rain fire down on him." Grinning, Robin added, "Nice to know you finally got lucky."

"Backup is nice," Jay admitted.

Suddenly there was a shipping crate beside Robin, and he hopped up on it, long legs dangling. "Yeah, having a family is nice. You don't like to admit it, but you love 'em all. Even Tim. Wonder if he ever saw your report card? Everyone thinks he's the nerd because he lives in his computer, but that was really you. You just grew into the body of a jock."

"That's what family's for," Jay said, putting his guns away reluctantly. "What the hell is this, anyway? You really here just so's I can talk to my inner child?"

"No, so you can talk to everything in yourself you keep thinking is dead. Like a sense of humor that doesn't involve someone bleeding." The little shit crossed his arms and grinned.

"This is fucking surreal," Jay grumbled.

"And you're fucking deflecting," Robin told him, in the exact same cadence. "Complain all you want, you love this. You love knowing the whole flock of them will swoop in if something happens. You love Alfred's breakfasts. You love teasing Tim and pestering Dick and snarking at Babs."

A similar crate appeared beside him, and Jay sat on it, frowning. "Yeah, so? Fine, I like it. Point to you."

Robin kicked his feet idly. "Y'know, from where I'm sitting, you really _did_ get lucky. After everything Joker tried to do, you _lived_. Thanks to Talia and the Lazarus Pit, you got out of that without even a scar – and all the height I never would've had 'cause we weren't eating enough during our first couple growth spurts." He cocked his head, birdlike as his nickname, and asked, "Didja ever thank her?"

"Talia did all that for Bruce. Or for her own reasons," Jay countered.

"She still risked her life to do it. And you benefited. I'm not saying _trust_ her, as long as she runs with her father we can't, but you know … maybe send a thank you card. You might be the first person in her life ever to do that." He shrugged eloquently. "Then again, your track record with women _sucks_ , dude. I mean, I gotta hand it to ya, you consistently punch above your weight class, but _damn_ you always screw it up."

"I'm not saying I'm perfect, 'cause not even I'm that hypocritical, but that wasn't all my fault," Jay argued. "Shit, none of 'em actually wanted to be in a relationship with _me_. Talia wanted Bruce, Donna wanted Dick, and I think Rose just wanted to carve a Robin-shaped notch on her bedpost."

"Then why were _you_ there?" Robin challenged.

Jay bared his teeth in a grin. "'Cause I like getting laid, stupid. You're too young to know this yet, but pussy's great."

Even despite the domino his younger self wore, Jay could tell the kid was rolling his eyes. "Oh my _God_ , you're so lame," he complained. "You can get _pussy_ on any street corner, you know that, and you don't even _use_ that word normally, so knock off the hard-ass, jaded crap. You just won't buy it 'cause you know most of 'em don't really wanna be doin' what they're doin'. With your face, you can go into most any bar and get laid for a couple of drinks and some conversation – and a smile, if you remember to use it, girls love that smile but you spend too much trying to be so tough for most of 'em to ever see it. You've done the one-night-stand thing, too. I'm not talking about getting laid, you moron, I'm talking about the women you actually loved."

"Dude, you're making way too much of it," Jay said, and never mind that he suddenly felt trapped and hunted.

"Oh yeah? Then how come you're talkin' to your kid-self about _pussy,_ mush-brain? You smack the hell outta guys who talk about women like that," Robin shot back.

"You're too young to get it," Jay said.

"I'm you, stupid, I've seen everything you've seen, done everything you've done, I know everything you know," Robin replied. "I'm who you were when you first put on this uniform – and didn't you say it was the best day of your life? – but that doesn't mean I'm frozen there. Haven't you figured it out yet? I'm _you_. I'm everything you deny being."

"You're a pain in the ass," Jay grumbled.

And got laughed at. "Nah, that you _won't_ deny. All the bad things, you hold 'em close. You made it your armor. Jason Todd, the bad Robin, the angry one, the violent one, the killer. You glued all that around you so nothing else can get in, but underneath it? You're still me. You still like girls and cars and scaring the crap outta bad guys. I mean, you like guys too, Nightwing's butt in that uniform makes everybody wonder about themselves, but you get the point. I'm you, and you're me."

"And I really shouldn't have eaten spicy Chinese food that close to bedtime," Jay said. "I'd almost rather have a Joker dream than this shit."

The kid regarding him with frank skepticism. "Really? You're gonna use the Dickens defense? Get real. This isn't _A Christmas Carol_ , and you can't explain me away as 'an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato'. You're not as big of a jerk-hole as Scrooge, anyway, you just wish people would think so."

"I've seen what happens to soft people in this town," Jay growled.

"Yeah? You think your armor's gonna save you, when you've got the second-softest heart in the flock?" Robin snapped back. "Look at Julio and Carl and the rest of the kids. If something happened to them, which would hurt more – feeling like you could've stopped it, or never having told 'em you're proud of them?"

Jay flinched from that. "Nothing's gonna happened to them. I made sure they're protected."

"Like Bruce made sure _you_ were protected," the kid replied, and Jay couldn't breathe for a moment. "But shit happens, man. Nobody's ever a hundred percent safe. You do the best you can, they do the best they can, and sometimes shit still happens to people you tried the hardest to protect. You have any idea how bad it hurt Bruce to lose you? And to know, 'cause everyone couldn't help showing it even if they didn't say it, that part of it was his fault? You might've forgiven him, but that shit still haunts him."

"I'm back, now," Jay said, not wanting to touch that topic. "It's gotta hurt less knowing I survived."

"Yeah, you lived, but he still feels responsible for your death," Robin pointed out. "He still feels like if he'd been different, if he'd shown you that you didn't _need_ to find Sheila because you had a parent who loved you, if he hadn't rushed you into Robin because it was the only way he knew how to deal with grief, that maybe none of this would've happened to you. You ever think maybe you're a little too much like him?"

A pause, and Jay admitted in a low voice, "Sometimes."

"No love, only justice," Robin agreed. "It's _stupid_."

"Love gets you killed," Jay argued. "Look at Harley. She's gonna meet a worse end than I did, if she doesn't wake up."

"Harley's not in love, she's obsessed. And you know the difference." Robin swung his feet and glowered. "You're being stupid on purpose 'cause you're scared. Just like Bruce. He can't let himself believe that anyone loves his dumb ass enough to put up with him. And here you are, yeah, the women you loved before made mistakes and hurt you and you hurt them, but that's just _life_ , man. Look at Babs and Dick. They broke up _bad_ , but they're still close. They still love each other, just not like that."

For once, Jay had no defense, just staring at his younger self. He damn sure didn't like the run of this conversation, and when Robin spoke again, he knew exactly why he'd tried to deflect it all the whole time.

"Now, _Kala_. You're a great big dumb-ass about her. I mean, jeez, have you looked at what you two are doing? You fight together, you play together, you sleep together, it's all damn near perfect." Robin gave a happy sigh.

Jay glared at him. "Yeah, and you were the reason I kissed her at the airport. You couldn't let her walk away."

"Yeah, I was, 'cause I'm the part of you that's smart enough to know what's good for you," Robin shot back. "And she _is_. When was the last time you laughed so much? When was the last time you were this happy? Probably putting on this uniform, in the beginning, when it was all fresh and new."

"That uniform got my ass killed," Jay shot back. "And I was happy with Donna. At first. Shit, I was over the moon, I had such a crush on her back in the day."

"And she turned out to be real instead of the fantasy you had of her," Robin replied. "The uniform didn't get you killed. Joker killed you. Sheila screwed you over, and Joker killed you. He would've killed you even if you'd never been Robin, once she turned you over to him. Joker being a sick twisted piece of shit, and Sheila not being a mom worth the name, _that's_ what got you killed."

"Okay, fine, not like I blame Bruce or the uniform anyway," Jay grumbled.

"No, you're just trying to deflect from the thing that scares you the most," Robin said.

"Oh yeah? Something scares me more than Joker?" Jay challenged.

Robin grinned, the same old hellfire grin Jay had seen in the mirror when he was that age, when he thought nothing would ever touch him and he'd be the best Robin there ever was. The kid said in a voice full of disdain, "Yeah. Admitting you're in love with Kala."

The dream vanished as Jay sat up in bed, heart pounding, sweat running down his back. Of all the fucking dreams to have… "Shit, at this rate maybe I _will_ get a shrink," he muttered softly. _I knew I should've had a bigger drink before bed._


	68. Just a Phase That I'm Going Through

**Authors' Note** : Another introspective chapter this week. Don't worry, action and drama are on their way again soon enough.

* * *

The tour had wended through all the major cities in the northeast, parts of the coast, and ventured westward through Chicago and down to St. Louis and Kansas City. After the break in Smallville, they headed for Oklahoma City and then into Texas, Dallas first followed by Austin. Sebast had traveled so much at this point in his life that most of those cities began to look the same. At least in the Midwest and West, he knew where he was by glancing out of the windows as they traveled between cities. Back East, the highways were all identical stretches of black asphalt lined by grass and trees, and the amount of time traveling between them was shorter. Here, he had time to appreciate the breadth of the prairies and the enormity of the sky.

Sebast lay in the loft, Kala asleep beside him, and looked out the front window as the highway unspooled in the headlights. Though he found it beautiful, it wasn't his sort of landscape. It was lonely out here, many dark miles between towns sometimes. He'd once seen a roadkill _wolf_ in Oklahoma, a bit further east than this, and never mind all the articles online saying that the state only had coyotes. He'd seen coyotes – in L.A., they'd stroll through neighborhoods at night, knocking over trash cans and sometimes killing pets – and the animal stretched along the Oklahoma blacktop was too fucking _big_ for a coyote. The damn thing had been the size of a German Shepherd, and if he'd seen it alive Sebast would've been wondering just how secure the bus really was. No, this part of the country was just a little too wild, for his taste.

They had miles to go tonight, and more the day after as the spaces between cities grew larger. They'd make a loop around the southwest, where the language and the food held familiar flavors for him. Not quite the same as his own Caribbean heritage, but close enough. And it would be _warm_ , at least for a few days, something he was looking forward to after the Midwestern chill. Summer was over, autumn had brightened the roadside trees into glorious color, but the air spoke of winter. Especially at the night, and as they turned into the high desert, the temperature drop at nightfall would get more extreme. And the cold always made him homesick for the islands.

Kala liked to tease him about it. He'd been born in Ponce, true, but his family had come to Metropolis when he was only three months old. His roots in Boricua were familial and cultural, a lot like her own in Kansas. He always countered her jokes by reminding her that she'd been born in Paris and raised in Metropolis, insisting that she shouldn't be as sentimental about Smallville when she too only knew her homeland from vacations. And then he gave her grief about being a Midwestern country girl at heart, usually working at least one reference to the creamed-corn capital of the world into it, and they both ended up laughing.

Still, Smallville _was_ a kind of home to her. Every visit he was reminded of that. He hadn't thought a Goth girl with her eclectic tastes and city ways would fit in, but she loved it there. The same girl who liked to have Cuban breakfasts, Vietnamese lunches, and Mediterranean dinners in Metropolis _also_ loved a good pot roast with veggies grown on the farm her three-times-great grandparents had settled, using seeds her grandmother had saved. She had roots out here, she fit into towns like Smallville no matter how Metropolitan she was. He saw the way her shoulders softened and her smile brightened whenever they visited the Kent farmhouse. Kala loved things like picking weirdly-named apples like Stayman Winesap and Arkansas Black from trees her great-great-grandparents had planted, and following deer tracks through the hedgerows that marked out parcels of property. He had met her grandmother and step-grandfather, both of whom were the third generations of their families on that land. They hadn't been part of the initial rush of settlement, or the conflicts in Kansas that presaged the Civil War, but the Kent farmhouse had been built in the last decade of the nineteenth century.

Which, for Sebast, was a bit of a relief, given the history. He liked Smallville, too. The town had welcomed Kala's band as an extension of her, and even though they probably gossiped endlessly about 'those weird kids', no one said anything to Sebast's face, or treated him any differently when he stopped in the general store or the diner. He was still glad that Mr. Kent's family _hadn't_ been among the very first settlers. There'd been too much bloody conflict in Kansas at first, the battles over whether it would be a slave or a free state, and the betrayal of the natives as the government broke treaties and the settlers claimed more and more land.

The history of the American Midwest and West echoed a little too strongly for Sebast, with his own ancestry and Puerto Rico's blend of Caribbean, African, and Spanish influences. He couldn't help a snort and eye-roll whenever anything smacked too much of Manifest Destiny. Thankfully, the Kents, Hubbards, Langs, Carmichaels, and others he knew in Smallville weren't the kind of people to take pride in 'conquering' a wilderness that had already had people living on it. Considering that the Taíno – his own ancestors – had been considered largely extinct around the same time the Kents first started homesteading in Kansas, and their legacy lived on only in descendants who'd intermarried with Europeans and Africans, Sebast was inclined to side with the Kansa and the Arapaho. Not to mention the Exodusters, freedmen who'd come to Kansas after the Civil War. Sebast himself was fairly light-skinned, but his family tree had plenty of freedmen among its branches. His mother's father also claimed to be pure Taíno, which even Sebast knew was specious at this point, but the cultural identification was still strong. Like many Puerto Ricans, he found a sense of belonging in their native heritage that the rest of the United States tended not to give to its territories.

Shit, sometimes Sebast had to argue with idiots that he _was_ an American, and in that case Kala's defense was welcome. It was especially ironic when she informed them that _she_ was less qualified than he was, having been born in Paris. Her mother had also been born in Europe, though technically the base counted as American soil. When Kala intervened, it became more obvious that the people telling him to go back to Mexico – where he'd never even _been_ – were just racist assholes.

Sebast felt his own roots strongly. Just like Kala, he'd lived most of his life in Metropolis, and his memories of 'the old home place' came from family vacations, but that didn't change how he felt. His grandparents were in Puerto Rico, like hers were in Kansas, though he had many more aunts and uncles and cousins than she did. For Sebast, 'home' meant sun-warmed mangoes fresh off the tree, insistent rhythms in the music late into the night, Spanish-style buildings, and the sea breeze in Ponce. The terrain was very different from the Kansas prairie, too. He'd occasionally gone hiking in the mountainous jungle with his more adventurous cousins.

Kala had gone back to Ponce with him several times, and being the nature-lover she was, she'd enjoyed the hiking. Just like she loved the food and the museums and the music. She hadn't loved the sea, of course, but he knew why. Her Spanish was good enough that she didn't get treated like a tourist, and his family treated her like one of their own – the same way her family treated him, for the most part. She ended up babysitting some of the littler cousins, and got roped into making pasteles just like Sebast did. His grandfather had worried about letting the little white girl drowse in a hammock, afraid the strong sunlight would fry her to a crisp, but both the twins basked like Jason's iguana and Sebast had never known them to sunburn. That SPF-70 stuff really worked pretty well.

Of course, Sebast wasn't always happy about how readily his family accepted Kala. His mother in particular just _had_ to introduce her as his _novia_. "She's not my girlfriend," he'd growled what felt like a thousand times, as Zynthiana just smiled and said, "She's your friend, and she's a girl, right?" Sebast had only glowered and reminded her that didn't work in Spanish. No matter _what_ he said, they all treated her like his freaking fiancee. Kala hadn't cared, willing to be his beard and cover for him while he prowled the clubs, or willing to back him up and fight with his family over precisely what she meant to him.

That was the problem, wasn't it?

What _did_ she mean to him?

Even Mikey had pointed out that they owned a _house_ together as if it meant something more than it was. It had just made sense at the time. Kala was the most stable relationship in Sebast's life, and had been since high school. She knew him, she rolled her eyes and loved him despite his faults, they had similar tastes in music and food and men. Around the time the band started to really click, it looked like they'd be doing everything together anyway, so pooling their signing bonuses to buy a house had just made _sense_.

And yet, everyone else in their lives kept acting like there was no possible way the two of them could be 'just' friends. As if friendship wasn't a goal in its own right. Sure, lots of people had work friends or school friends that they lost touch with after moving on, except for Facebook posts, but he'd seen better examples of friendship. His own dad's old soccer team buddies, those guys still came around the house to watch the games and eat and drink. They all supported each other, almost twenty years after the last time any of them had actually played competitively, and they sent Christmas and birthday gifts to each other's spouses and kids. All the wives had grown to know one another as well, which was probably who was actually _buying_ those gifts and making the Christmas card lists, but still.

Kala had her own set of examples. Her mother's pack of friends was closer to sisters-by-choice, reflected in the fact that Kala called them all her aunts. That had been going on for over thirty years now, at least with Lois, Cat, and Tobie. Sebast did enjoy the hell out of watching them fuss and quarrel at the big Independence Day celebration at Lucy's Riverside house. He knew that if anyone seriously threatened any of them, the other two – plus Lucy, Maggie, and Lana – would do whatever it took to protect her. Clark and Ron and Richard weren't privy to 'girls nights' with the madcap crew, but they had formed their own friendships, which often included Jimmy Olsen as well.

That whole group of friends were the same way about all the kids, including Sebast now. The protectiveness was more than just words, too. He hadn't forgotten what happened when Kala was kidnapped, and that nutcase Luthor sent someone to _murder_ Lana. Not that he dwelled on it, but the designer was the most conciliatory of the women, and she'd sliced the killer's throat to protect Kristin.

They called Lois the mama bear, but it was true of all of them.

All Sebast wanted was for things to stay the same, for Kala to be by his side always. Her laughter, her encouragement, the way she … damn, he didn't want to say she _completed_ him, that was some rom-com bullshit, but she _matched_ him. It had always been the two of them, they'd at least spoken every day and seen each other most days through school, and they'd lived together since starting the band. She was part of him. A great deal of who and what he was now, Sebast knew had come from his partnership with Kala. She was half the reason he had his own tag on the TMZ blog these days.

In his deepest heart, Sebast could admit that Kala was the one who'd wanted to be a singer. He was good at it, but his dreams had been more centered on performance, perhaps even fame. Sebast could've been just as pleased with any kind of career in entertainment, and he'd been eyeing acting roles out of school. But Kala had a voice like … God, she gave people _chills_ , and of all the people they'd sung with, his voice matched hers the best. Throwing in with her crazy dream of becoming a rock star had fucking _worked_ , after all, and it worked because _they_ worked. Half their success was the music, the other half was their image. People showed up to concerts because they gave a good show, because Kala and Sebast were both charismatic and fuckin' gorgeous, and while the music profits went to the label, the tour profits kept the band solvent.

Plus, the tours were the best part, for him. Kala loved live performance too, but she loved writing songs and working out melodies and the studio stuff almost as much. Sebast sometimes found that tedious, singing the same song fifteen different times in fifteen _slightly_ different ways to get just the right track. He preferred the roar of the crowd and the stage lights in his eyes; to his ear, their live performances were always better than the studio ones. But not everyone could afford to go to a concert, and recording was part of the job, to let their music reach everyone who was interested in it.

His life's course had been set with Kala in mind, charted in partnership with her. Hell, they even joked about adopting children; she wanted them, eventually, but so far stable relationships had eluded her. Kala planned to be a single mom if marriage wasn't in the cards for her, and Sebast figured that would make him some kind of uncle to her kid. Or kids. Families that didn't follow the usual script were more common than otherwise, at least in Kala's experience. A single mom with a live-in gay uncle as male role model wouldn't be too weird among her extended family.

And all of that was in the future somewhere. The one thing that people kept pointing out as evidence for Sebast and Kala being more than friends, was how that future always included each other. Even Mikey joked about them getting married for the tax benefits, and his little brother of all people should've known that wasn't happening.

Unless … unless everyone else was seeing something that they didn't. Maybe he and Kala both were too close to the whole thing to see it clearly.

Sebast had been to a club once with some of the other guys from Stalmaster, and they'd all been tipsy pretty quickly, despite being underage. The club wouldn't serve them, but intelligent and attractive young men were good at working out ways of getting drinks nonetheless. Sebast had been pleasantly buzzed, making eyes at the handsome blond who was playing Marius in Stalmaster's production of Les Miz, and the talk had turned to girls. A highly unlikely topic among adolescent gay male theater majors, but it had started with the girls who chased them in vain. They'd cast plenty of aspersions at the straight boys, who had _no_ game whatsoever, and contemplated arranging for a few friendly lesbians to teach the idiots how to _talk_ to girls so they'd have enough of a chance to cut down on the hopeful followers.

And then someone has asked, _Would you ever…?_ A few had shrugged, more flexible in their tastes. Sebast had said that it'd be too weird for him. But in the back of his brain, he'd thought, _If there was ever gonna be a girl, it'd be Kala_.

Then promptly blamed that thought on the last purple haze he'd surreptitiously drunk, and laughed at himself for being an idiot.

Still. The fact was, he _had_ been with one girl, and it _was_ Kala.

That hadn't been bad, either. Different, sure, but still pretty good.

She was just ridiculously pretty. The best-looking woman he'd ever met, and hanging out in L.A. he'd met plenty who were considered absolutely stunning. To Sebast's mind, Kala left them all in the dust. Maybe that was because he didn't just see her looks, he saw _her_ , the gutsy and sometimes goofy person she was. The wickedness in her smile, the intelligence in her eyes, the confidence in her bearing, all of it added up to something more than just visual aesthetic.

And since when did he even notice women like that? He'd freaking _showered_ with Kala, mostly because seeing women naked wasn't supposed to affect him at all.

Much of the time it didn't. Maybe context was the key. Sebast saw half-naked men in cologne and clothing ads, in the gym locker room, on the bus and backstage as they all changed clothes between sets, and usually that didn't affect him, either. Because in all those situations he had his mind on what he was supposed to be doing at the moment, or the men in question were known to be straight and eyeing them would be rude. He also knew the ads were just a cynical attempt to sell something, so no matter how hot the model, Sebast rolled his eyes. When he hopped in the shower with Kala, it was a matter of convenience and time management. And again, them being so far inside each other's personal space on a daily basis that boundaries just didn't exist.

But then, there were the times when he _did_ notice her.

Like now.

The bus was quiet, deep in the night, their driver piloting them steadily southward. They'd left late, riding overnight as usual, when the traffic was almost nonexistent. Signs for the Osage Reservation flicked by in the headlights. And Kala was asleep beside Sebast in the loft, her animated features relaxed into a smooth porcelain beauty, her bare shoulder peeking out from the comforter, her dark hair spilling down her back. She slept in a tank top and pajama bottoms, as usual. The top was plain black, trimmed with a bit of lace around the neckline, and the tag was sticking out.

Sebast tucked the tag back in, gently. At his touch, Kala made a quiet happy noise and snuggled closer to her pillow.

Why did he look at her and want to snuggle up and kiss the top of her shoulder? He'd cuddled with her hundreds of times, hell, it was practically a defense mechanism. Once she hit the deepest part of her sleep cycle, she'd stretch out like a starfish and take over the whole bed, unless he held her close. But why did he suddenly _want_ to hold her?

Sebast kicked the _whys_ and _wherefores_ out of his mind, slipped his arm around Kala's shoulders, and pulled her close. She leaned against him with another of those happy little murmurs, rolling half onto her side. It wasn't quite fair, the way her body fit perfectly into the curve of his, her rump tucked up against his hips, his arm falling naturally at the dip in her waist.

They lay like that for a long while, Sebast awake and thinking, smelling the candied-violet scent of Kala's perfume. He tucked his nose into the nape of her neck and breathed deeply, her hair soft against his face.

Kala smelled like home.

They were breathing in sync, his palm on her belly, deep slow breaths. But while Kala slept on, Sebast couldn't seem to drift off.

He kissed her shoulder. Not the first time he'd done that. But the first time a little chill ran down his spine when he did.

He nuzzled into the nape of her neck, and kissed her there, too. Kala stretched slightly, giving a quiet murmur – of complaint or happiness, he couldn't quite tell.

Sebast let the memory of that one night they never talked about inform him, and nuzzled the place where neck joined her shoulder, the place he'd left a love-bite then. Kala arched against him, with a sleepy murmur, and he kissed her again, slowly, deliberately.

She stretched her shoulder, baring her throat, and somewhere beneath all the words and labels and worries, Sebast knew he wanted this. He wanted the warmth of her under his lips and hands, the sound of her breath catching in surprise, and he nibbled her neck with a low hum of hunger in his throat.

Kala turned in his arms, his hand on the small of her back pulling her close, and she kissed him. A thousand kisses, mostly affectionate little pecks or theatrical drawn-out smooches for their audience, but _this_ was a kiss like that night, just for the two of them, her hand on the curve of his jaw, her eyes closed, her lips softly moving against his.

Sebast had been with enough men that impressions blurred together, but Kala stood out in sharp declarative detail. No one else's skin was as soft, no one else smelled as delightfully good, no one else had so much tender affection wrapped up in a kiss. He was used to men who kissed like it was some kind of competitive sport and they wanted the trophy cup; Kala kissed like it was a song, a duet between them, both of them building it into something that ached with sweetness.

 _To hell with all of it,_ Sebast thought, despite trying not to think too much for fear of over-analyzing himself into conclusions he couldn't support. _If I don't do something about_ _ **keeping**_ _her, I'm gonna lose her._ He dropped his hand to her hip, and murmured, "Mi Kala," against her mouth.

That, unfortunately, broke the spell, and Kala pulled back. Just slightly, but her eyes were wide with surprise in the dark. "Sebast…?"

Later, much too much later, he would think that he should've just kissed her until she had no breath left for questions. In the moment, though, the worry came back sharply, and he just met her gaze. "Kala?"

She looked perplexed, then guilty, and then she chuckled – almost her usual warmly amused laugh, but with a slightly forced sound. "Sorry. I didn't realize I was molesting you in your sleep. Again."

And he winced, a little, because _he'd_ been the one doing the molesting, if it could be called such. "Nah, not hardly," he said softly, aware suddenly of just how _stupid_ this was. They were on the freaking _bus_ , the driver's head _and Derek's_ were only a couple feet below them, the loft wasn't soundproof. If anything had happened – and the starry look in her eyes and the way she'd leaned into him said if it had gone on, something _could've_ happened – the whole damn band would've known.

No, this wasn't the time, and him thinking that time was running out was just paranoia. This guy she was seeing, he didn't know her like Sebast did, and he couldn't follow her all around the country. The relationship would run its course like all of hers did, no one could ever keep up with Kala – except Sebast himself – and they'd be back to normal.

And if _normal_ was going to include anything more than it already did, well, he'd have time to figure out what the hell he really wanted, and make a move _without_ a goddamn audience a few feet away.

Sebast didn't know what to say or do, but her eyes looked haunted or hunted, so he ran a hand through her hair. "Go back to sleep, _querida_ ," he murmured. "It's just me."

"Yeah," Kala sighed, leaning into the touch, and there was something soft and longing in her tone. "I'm sorry, _querido_. For waking you up."

" _De nada_ ," he told her. The whole exchange reminded him of the morning after that night, when they had both acted like nothing happened. Always a morning person, Kala had been _too_ cheerful, and Sebast had played along then like he was playing along now. Pretending nothing else was going on. _Enough, dammit,_ he told himself. He had to let it go now, but the next time they had a few days alone, they'd settle this.

Kala sighed, and rolled over, turning her back to him. He did the same; their spines touched, both of them protecting each other like it had always been.

Maybe things would be clearer tomorrow, when he wasn't staring out the window and meditating on what home meant to him.

…

Talia watched impassively as the Mercedes was slowly winched out of the river, water pouring from the engine compartment. Beside her, Adem sighed. "I'm glad I got the optional insurance," he murmured.

The police were involved, which was unfortunate, but one glance at the driver's side window and she refused to press charges. The officer in charge of the scene saw her look at the scratched glass – the mark of diamond-tipped claws, she well knew – and asked, "Do you have any idea who did this, madame?"

"Of course not," Talia replied. He looked unconvinced, and she gave him a chagrined smile. "If I did, it would be strictly a personal matter. No one was hurt, no other property was damaged, and I can cover the cost of the vehicle if the insurance declines to do so. Thank you for your assistance."

"Who stole the car?" he asked, attempting to look intimidating.

Talia managed not to laugh. If she wanted, she could kill this man five different ways without even drawing a weapon, and take care of his colleagues before they could raise the alarm. She had been threatened by far more dangerous individuals, as well; no mere policeman could frighten her. So she simply smiled, and said, "A jealous girlfriend. Not a matter for your department, officer. You have far more important things to pursue."

His embarrassment at that helped speed up the process, as did the lack of any personal belongings in the car. Only as she and Adem left – in another rented Mercedes – did her lieutenant speak up. "The scratched glass. Catwoman?"

"Yes. Apparently she found out who was behind her last job," Talia said, leaning back in the passenger seat. They were flying out of Paris tonight, and she was glad to go.

"Would you like me to take care of the problem?" Adem asked.

Talia turned in her seat to face him. "If you harm Selina Kyle in the slightest, I won't kill you. Not for a year or more. And by the time I finally take your life, you will have begged for death so long that it will seem a mercy, no matter how slow the method."

Someone else might have drawn a gun and aimed it to weight the threat, but Talia knew better. She never drew a weapon she did not intend to use in that moment. And Adem knew her well enough to understand her flat, level tone was more deadly than any bullet or blade.

Adem looked at her with shocked eyes. "Understood, Lady Talia," he said, giving her the proper title in his bemusement. "May I ask why you are so protective of your rival?"

She scoffed and went back to looking out the window. "If I thought she was any rival to me, I might kill her myself. Leave her be. I will deal with her. It is not so important a thing, anyway, a mere rental car."

The truth was more complicated than she gave him. Bruce loved Selina, and Talia knew it, vexing as it was. If anything untoward happened to the Cat, he would be hurt by it, and so Talia could not in good conscience allow her to come to harm. She was not interested in killing off any so-called rivals, anyway. If Bruce could not make a decision, that was _his_ fault, not a slight against another woman whose taste in men was as good as Talia's own.

However, pulling the Cat's whiskers – to make an appropriate analogy – was perfectly acceptable. Even warranted, since the thief had stolen her bracelet over the summer and begun their ongoing exchange of … not quite hostilities. Talia found herself amused, and intrigued by motive. Both times Selina had stolen something of purely financial value, in response to running Talia's errands. Was she trying to make interference with her too costly? That seemed likely.

So, how to respond to this latest escapade? Selina had flown all the way to Paris just to steal and ruin a car that Talia did not even own. She would have to show the same level of commitment in her reply.

She smiled slowly. While Adem continued to drive, Talia took out her phone and began looking up programs near Gotham that rescued domestic cats, or otherwise provided for their care. Sizable donations accompanied by Selina's actual address would ensure that she received endless solicitations from them. The value of said donations ought to make clear that Talia could afford to lose a dozen cars, and remain unimpressed.

And misspelling Selina's name a different way with each donation would show her just how little Talia regarded her last attempt at revenge.

…

Things were getting uncomfortable by the time they reached Austin. Kala usually enjoyed the city – who wouldn't? The 'Keep Austin Weird' slogan was everywhere, and locals took it very much to heart. They had some of the best Indian fusion she'd ever tasted in a _gas station_ , and then a game called 'chicken shit bingo' in another place that she _really_ hoped never caught on anywhere else. Normally, it was nice to feel like she wasn't the biggest weirdo around, and for a half-alien Goth rock star moonlighting as a vigilante to say that, the place had to be _very_ quirky.

But something was off, this time. Sebast wasn't happy, he wouldn't say _why_ , and if she tried to ask he'd change the subject or insist he was fine. But Kala could feel his unhappiness like a splinter in her soul, and no matter how hard he tried to hide it, she knew it was there. It drove her half-crazy, wanting to just _fix_ this somehow. She loved him, she'd always loved him, and therefore she wanted him to be happy. She had the uncomfortable feeling that whatever was wrong, was somehow her fault. It couldn't be Jay, since she wasn't seeing him while he was undercover. She missed him so much she'd woken up smooching Sebast, and damn near called him by Jay's name. And that hurt in both ways, for the mistake and for the fact that it didn't feel like as much of a mistake as it should.

It had to be something else, she couldn't help hoping, and she had made it her mission to do everything she could to cheer him up. They even went _bowling_ together as a band, something that made Derek's eyes roll. Still that sense of wrongness haunted her.

The biggest, most obvious difference in the last few days was him staying in more often. Usually Sebast prowled the clubs and bars, looking for Mr. Right Now and never for Mr. Right, but he seemed to have lost his taste for handsome hookups. That in itself was worrisome, though she had to admit that it privately made her happier to see that ebb for a while. Ned commented that the world might be ending, and Sebast had smiled and told him that he was leaving the prettier ones for Ned. The drummer just rolled his eyes at that, luckily.

Sebast also watched Kala, a little too often, and she began to wonder if he was figuring things out that she kept praying he wouldn't. Like a certain secret she was having a harder and harder time keeping. That would explain his attention, and his unhappiness. She knew he'd be angry, if he found out she'd been hiding something as huge as being half-Kryptonian for their entire friendship. Sometimes she was tempted to just _tell him_ , just get it over with, but in the middle of a huge tour with a ridiculous schedule wasn't the place or the time. The inevitable argument that would provoke would spill over to everyone else. Trusting Sebast was one thing, but the whole band? As much as she loved them, Kala doubted the boys could keep it quiet. Derek made her nauseous, even _thinking_ about him finding out. _That_ would be the end of the world, in so many ways.

Some stress relief would've been nice, but with their nights spent on the road and Sebast being extra watchful, she found it almost impossible to get away to Gotham even for patrol. Fortunately, the situation there was quiet – for now. Babs kept her updated by text, knowing that the radio silence was eating away at her. The criminal element in the city had figured out that a couple of its major players were squaring off, and they were either taking sides or waiting it out. Black Mask was still seething in prison. Joker was still laying low. And Scarecrow was still working on his master plan. Jay was safely embedded in his crew.

If it ever became unsafe, Kala would know. It was the way she comforted herself; he was a big boy and had managed pretty well before he even knew she existed, but still. The knowledge didn't help when she knew Joker was still on the loose. But she'd memorized Jay's heartbeat by now, and if anything happened to him – if he was in any danger – she'd make some excuse to disappear. If it went down while they were driving, she was sure she could pull it off _somehow_ , force them to pull the bus over by claiming she'd seen a little kid on the side of the road, or something. Whatever it took, she'd do it.

As the tour turned west, hitting El Paso and then climbing into the high desert toward Albuquerque, Kala was no closer to knowing what was really wrong with Sebast, or how she could fix it, but she tried to spend as much time with him as possible. Somehow, they'd fix this. They had to. At least Denver was coming up – the mile-high city was as close as she'd be able to get to flying, for a while.

…

Tommy had become invisible, no more interesting than a desk lamp. As long as the place stayed secure – and he made damn sure it did – Sauers and Crane both ignored him. The other men did, too. He had nothing in common with any of them, setting himself up as a docile, obedient loner.

And even if he'd meant to be more of a team player, that dream haunted him. His younger self's bald declaration wouldn't go away. Jay thought he was _over_ the whole idea of being in love, by now. Look where it had gotten him every time, a kick in the teeth of betrayal. Never mind that Kala never showed any of the red flags he'd come to recognize; she was almost scarily honest, and he knew she wasn't thinking of someone else when she was with him. It should have been a good thing, but the mere thought made him nauseous for reasons he couldn't articulate in his own head. Much better, and safer, to be partners. That covered their camaraderie, their trust, the way they worked so smoothly together on the street and in bed. The whole love thing didn't have to be a part of it. Besides, he was Red Hood and she was Supergirl in all but name. Talk about star-crossed, that was a match made in some especially demented circle of hell. The mostly-reformed murderous criminal and the Last Daughter of Krypton? Yeah, right.

He managed to keep himself away from those thoughts, mostly, because he needed to watch out for opportunities. Scarecrow was doing _something_ extremely shady, beyond just his focused fear project. He had a whole second set of notes, stored separately, and he hid them from everyone but Sauers. Tommy only knew about them because Crane thought he could barely read. It was almost too easy to convince him of that, but then, Crane did like to think he was smarter than everyone else. He paid no more attention to Tommy's mental state than he did to what the lab rats thought about the project. Less, maybe, since he cared about the results from the rats. As long as the guard did his job, he might as well have the intellect of a fence post.

Tommy mooched outside Crane's study, looking vacant as usual, while on the inside, Jay focused intently on what he could hear. Crane grumbling under his breath, mostly. Sauers was in there with him, talking smoothly and pleasantly about how difficult it was to find human subjects, and how they might consider a public test. _That_ guy was more twisted than Crane, Jay thought. He wasn't a big scary villain, just the kind of middle-manager type who followed the boss' rules no matter how heinous, and took pleasure in grinding everyone under him to dust with those same rules. Sauers was the kind of man that made Jay understand how the Milgram experiment had worked. He wouldn't kill anyone directly, but he'd make the connections that would let Crane drive half the city out of their minds with terror, and never feel a hint of shame for it.

The phone rang, Crane answered it, and Tommy couldn't hear most of it, but he heard the tone change, getting louder and more frazzled. At last, Crane all but shouted, "Don't touch _anything!_ I'll be right down there. No one is to handle that shipment _at all_ , do you hear me? … I don't care, that's what the masks are for! You make them stay _right there_ until I get down!"

Then he and Sauers came hustling out, Crane already wide-eyed and furious. He'd been raking his hands through his hair – a nervous habit Jay actually had, too, but Crane tended to yank and twist at it the more stressed he got – and now it stuck up in wild tufts just like the scarecrow he called himself.

He fixed Jay with a blazing glare. " _No one_ goes in or out of that room until I get back, you understand? _No one!_ I don't care if Batman or Joker or God Himself shows up, you keep them _out!_ "

"Yessir," Tommy said quickly, with just the right edge of fear, while on the inside Jay sat up and grinned. He had to have a reason for saying that – and the fact that his notes were normally kept behind three layers of security, and a huge time-consuming pain to take out or put away, was probably a factor.

Crane didn't even look at him, and neither did Sauers, both of them hurrying downstairs. Whatever was going wrong with the unloading crew sounded serious.

And Jay wasted no time. The study wasn't even _locked_ , the notes still piled on the desk. Jay had one of Bruce's fancy little cameras hidden in his phone; he opened the case and started taking pictures of what was on the top of the stack. The resolution was so high that he could get two pages per image and still be able to blow it up and read it later. He didn't have time to study the material, but a few things jumped out, mostly chemical formulas and then, suddenly, an address. Jay stopped to skim that; it was where the test subjects Crane had rounded up were being held. He grinned fiercely, finishing the notes that were left out. The second set were in a drawer … but he didn't want to get caught at this, and he needed more than notes.

A sane man would've kept the fear toxin down in the lab, under a fume hood or in a locked cabinet. Crane kept a couple samples on his desk, in ordinary stoppered glass beakers. Of course Crane himself was long since immune to the stuff, but if he ever dropped one, he'd have to replace his entire staff. And since Jay knew that he had two sets of project notes, he decided to steal a small amount of each. He had pipettes and vials for that hidden in his jacket lining. Ripping them out was the work of seconds.

Opening those glass vials was damn dangerous. He had his nose filters, also sewn into the jacket, and had stuck them in, but he still had to be careful not to open his mouth. Or let it splash on his skin. Ever so carefully, Jay extracted a couple milliliters from each beaker, sealed them in the plastic vials, and shoved those and the filter back into his jacket lining. A bit of duct tape held the liner together.

The nerve-wracking part was, he couldn't know when Crane and Sauers, or someone else, would be back. So he just photographed as much of the secondary notes as he could, and when the hair on the nape of his neck wouldn't stop tingling, Jay gave it up and slipped back outside and back into his Tommy persona.

He'd just closed up the phone when he heard footsteps on the stairs. As Tommy, he had one hand on his gun, standing protectively in front of the door, when Sauers returned. "No one came this way?" Sauers demanded.

"Nope," Tommy said. "What's goin' on?"

"None of your concern, nothing to worry about," Sauers said, with a brief and rather strained smile meant to reassure Tommy, and then he hurried into the lab.

Tommy would stay worried, though, so when Crane took the steps two at a time a moment later, he still had his hand on his gun. "Nobody here 'cept Sauers," he reported, before Crane could even ask.

"Good man," Scarecrow said, still distracted. And then he looked at Tommy, finally focusing on him. "Have you ever met the Joker?"

Tommy shuddered, something Jay didn't have to fake. "Don't want to, neither!" he replied insistently.

"Good. If you see him, or any of his men, shoot to kill," Crane told him. "He's up to _something_. Well, he always is, the man's personality is entirely derived from the DSM, but I'd rather he not take an interest in my work. Serious study is no place for psychosis."

"Course not," Tommy said. "He shows up, I'll kill 'im. No problem." And both the outer persona and Jay lurking beneath were in agreement on that.

Crane nodded and went into his study. Jay listened, ready to fight or run if he realized the papers and samples had been disturbed. One thing he had to give to League of Shadows training, he was _ready_ , all the time, for whatever life might throw his way. Lately he'd been learning to relax his guard again, in certain controlled situations – usually ones where a girl with super-strength and heat vision was watching his back – but he still appreciated the ability to stand there looking like the usual gormless Tommy, while on the inside he was spun up and ready to explode into flight or violence.

The two men in the study started talking earnestly, worriedly, but it seemed neither had noticed the theft. Jay let himself relax, bit by bit, until half an hour had passed and he was sure they didn't suspect anything. He did wish for Kala's hearing; it was nice to be able to eavesdrop anywhere without having to hide a bug first.

To keep them from guessing, he'd have to stick around another day or so, but then he'd be out. Jay had planned for Tommy to hear bad news from family out of town, and even concocted fake records to bolster the lie. This with Joker sniffing around would only be more incentive. No sane person, no matter what his intellect, wanted to stand between Joker and something that held his interest.

…

KLK, the band as a whole and not just its lead singer, rather liked Albuquerque. They'd played there before, and though the desert landscape was a little eerie to Kala's eyes with her memories of Nevada, the boys liked it. There were enough museums and clubs and other points of interest to keep them all busy, even if they'd missed the annual Hot Air Balloon Festival this trip.

They only had two days, with their show on the second night. At the moment, Morgan, Ned, and Robb were doing an escape room, and all the boys planned to meet up that night for a 'brew cruise' offered by one of the trolley companies. Kala would rather do some shopping in Old Town, to which Sebast accompanied her, claiming that was _his_ escape for the day. She also needed to stop in at the American International Rattlesnake Museum, mostly because they had a gila monster that she kept threatening to 'borrow' for her lizard-loving brother every time she was in town. The joke might not go over as well with Elise; as her pregnancy advanced, she was less likely to approve of venomous early-birthday gifts. Still, she was going to send a gila monster postcard to Jase.

Sebast and Kala eyed bold jewelry in silver and turquoise, beautifully woven rugs and baskets, kachina dolls and kokopelli figures, carved stone animals, and gorgeous pottery that she had to pass up, terrified of breaking it on the long trip home. Albuquerque had examples of Navajo, Pueblo, and Apache work, and Kala liked supporting the artisans while bringing back memories from a city very different from Metropolis. Sebast traded quips with some of the sellers in Spanish; Kala thought if she lived out here, she'd have to pick up some of the native languages, too.

He ended up getting a heavy silver bracelet set with turquoise and coral, while Kala bought herself earrings. And then, at the last shop they visited, a charming stone coyote caught her eye. "Fossilized sea sand, _that's_ cool," Kala said, carefully picking up the carving. It was heavy for its size, carved in the distinctive local style.

The shop owner, a woman with graying hair in braids down to her waist, looked up at the pair of them with an assessing eye and said, "Be careful with Coyote. Not everyone _really_ wants to invite a trickster into their home."

Kala held the smooth stone, and smiled. "Coyotes are great survivors, though, and I read somewhere that he's good for teaching you to laugh at your own mistakes. I could use a little of that."

"You could use a little humor, period, these days," Sebast said.

She smirked at him. "I have _you_ , troll." Irrepressible as ever, he sketched a bow.

The seller shrugged, but she was smiling. "These are artworks, not true fetishes. If it speaks to you, then who am I to caution?"

"No, and anyone who tries taking a _real_ fetish out of tribal hands needs a serious ass-kicking," Kala said. "He's beautiful, so I'll take my chances. I know what you mean, though, and I appreciate the warning."

They wrapped up the sale and headed out, Kala glancing at the sun. "You'd better head back and meet the boys at that brewery," she said. "It's getting late."

Sebast glanced at his phone. "I've got half an hour. You sure you don't wanna come with us?"

Kala rolled her eyes. "Not a beer girl on the best of days, and according to the website, most of the stuff here is hops-forward IPAs. You boys enjoy. I'll catch a movie or something. You know me, I can always find something." She actually planned to sneak off to the Sandia mountains for an evening hike, just to clear her head.

"Yeah, you always can," Sebast sighed, his hand going to the small of her back as they stepped down off the curb and crossed the street together. "That's one of the reasons I like you, _querida_ , you're good at finding trouble to get into."

She glanced at him, grinning, and saw more than just humor and affection in his eyes. It stopped her breath for a moment; _Jay_ looked at her like that. Kala faltered as they reached the opposite sidewalk, and Sebast tilted his head, the expression vanishing into a questioning one.

"Don't worry about me," Kala said, feeling the hair on the back of her neck stand up a little. Why did this busy tourist street suddenly feel _dangerous_? There was nothing here to be afraid of. "I'll get back to the hotel before you, I promise. Can't keep Derek waiting, we're rolling out early."

"Yeah, six hours to Denver, and we hit the stage that same night," Sebast sighed. "At least we're getting a two-day break before Salt Lake City. Be safe, okay, _mi_ Kala?"

"Always," she said. " _You_ be safe, you're the one trying to drink your weight in craft beer tonight."

"I will," he promised, and leaned in for a kiss. Kala met him, expecting the usual friendly peck, but there was more this time … from both of them, more insistence from him, more softness from her. Sebast drew back, green eyes sparkling, and said, "I've missed you too much to stay away too long."

Kala managed to smile and walk away, trying not to let her consternation show. It was just a kiss, hardly something new between her and Sebast. Things were just getting weird because she missed Jay so much.

And whatever was going on with Sebast, she _did_ miss Jay. For one wild moment, Kala wanted to just fly to Gotham; she hadn't been alone much in the last week, and this was a chance she would've normally leapt at. But if she went now, even to patrol, she wouldn't be able to resist checking in on Jay, and that might blow his cover. He'd told her to wait, to let him get this done, and she had to trust his judgment.

Hopefully it wouldn't be too much longer. Missing him was becoming an ache in her bones, and she paused for the only means of contact she had. Kala sent a quick text to a number saved as O's Pizza Shack – much the same way Jay was saved as just J – and asked for an update. Since most things were in code, what she actually asked was, _Is the pasta done cooking yet?_

The response came back quickly. _Not yet. Lid's still on._ Which meant Jay's cover was intact, at least. Kala sighed, muttered, "No news is good news," and started looking for a place to take off. Some time up in the clear, thin air atop a mountain would be good for her.

It turned out to be bracingly cold – in the forties and dropping. That was twenty degrees colder than the city, all thanks to the elevation. Albuquerque itself was some five thousand feet above sea level, and the crest where she landed was over ten thousand feet. The cold didn't affect Kala much, feeling refreshing instead; from that point, she could see halfway to forever. Mountains and high desert plains and even five long-extinct volcanoes all greeted her roving eye.

Usually an expanse like this would soothe Kala, but tonight it just made her feel more lonely. Down in the city, she'd seen a roadrunner hunting lizards in the shrubs lining a McDonald's parking lot, and had felt like it was nature triumphing over manmade suburbs. But here, in something much closer to wilderness, she seemed to sense desolation.

Kala closed her eyes and focused. Far away, north and east, she locked on to the sound that gave her peace, these days. She could've found Jase or Mom or Dad or even Sebast, much closer, but the person she wanted most was in Gotham, his heart thumping just a touch faster than normal. She held her breath and listened, ignoring the roar of other sounds between her and him, following the thread of his heartbeat and hoping for his voice.

No luck, this time, and Kala let her focus waver as she let out the breath she'd been holding. At least having touched base with Jay, just for those few seconds, changed her opinion of the landscape around her – or maybe it was just that with her hearing tuned to its keenest, she could hear the birds and squirrels moving around now.

Somewhere down the ridge, a coyote howled, answered by another, and Kala smiled to hear it. Even the quintessential trickster had a partner. She could hold on through a few more days or another week of this, as long as Jay made it back from his undercover trip safely.


	69. Fire Breather

**Authors' Note:** We're posting this chapter early because it was nearly complete, and we're going to need to take some time off from writing. Hopefully it will only be a week before we're back to normal, so we'll miss the first Monday in May and be back the next week. We have quite a lot of the end of this story already written, we just need to string it together.

As for why we need the time ... Monday night, when we came home from work, we found our thirteen-year-old beagle very ill. The first sign something was wrong was that she didn't howl when we pulled into the driveway. We rushed her to the vet, but it was already too late, and she passed away while we were there. She goes to join the rest of our pack in spirit; if you don't believe that dogs have souls, you've never truly known one. Her companion Dusty is coping; our cats miss her too. As for us, our hearts are shattered. She was the very best girl.

We got her in November 2006, a few months after beginning _Little Secrets_ , and named her Kala after the character. She was such a lovable, happy, funny little dog that we wrote her into the fic, under the name Bagel. Her first appearance was in the oneshot _If It's Meant to Be_ , and she had a Crowning Moment of Badass in _Heirs to the House of El_ wherein she got to bite one of the villains. She appears in chapter twelve of this fic, Quicksand's Got No Sense of Humor, along with Chewie the beagle who is also based on Kala Bagel. Our depiction of her inspired at least two friends and readers to also get a beagle puppy of their own. If you want a beagle of your own, check rescues, the Beagle Freedom Project, or responsible breeders - preferably those who hunt their dogs, like Ben Hubbard. Be aware that they can be very loud, and rather stubborn, but I've never met a sweeter dog.

In lieu of flowers, feel free to donate to your local shelter. The HSUS and ASPCA are largely direct-mail mills where little of the money goes to the care of animals, but your local shelter would appreciate the help. Kala came from a small rural shelter in Georgia; she remains the best $20 coauthor Anissa has ever spent, and the best birthday present coauthor Lois has ever received.

Anyway, that's enough sorrow for a day. Let's have some joy, in the form of a Jason Todd/Kala Lane-Kent reunion...

* * *

Sebast had slept like a stone after the 'brew cruise', and he'd been hung over during the whole trip north to Denver. He managed to revive himself for the show – Sebast always managed, somehow, even when he'd been sick he scraped together enough energy to sing – but collapsed into bed at the hotel. Morgan and Ned did the same; Robb was the only one not affected, and he rolled his eyes at all of them. He disappeared into his phone the moment they settled in, and Kala figured he was telling Jenny all about how the rest were lightweights.

She just chuckled, stopping into the room just long enough to quietly change clothes to slip out. In between all of the chaos rambling through her brain, Kala knew she was in no way ready to settle down for the night, wanting something to do, needing to wear herself out. Their set had closed early enough that she could grab herself a drink or two and unwind. She'd only be an hour or two. Only Robb would know she was gone. No harm, no foul.

Once she'd made it out to the hotel's side door, room key safely in her pocket, she focused in on sounds, opening her hearing to the nearby streets. It took a moment to spot her kind of music, a few seconds later to narrow down its location. With a grin, the sound of dark wave in her ears, Kala set off. It was only about twelve blocks away.

Following the sound of voices and the occasional laugh, the smell of clove smoke, Kala found herself outside of the kind of club she used to sing in, what felt like a long time ago. A little hole-in-the-wall with the grandiose name of Elara. Getting in was easier than expected, costing no more than catching the bouncer's eye as she moved toward the bar and giving a knowing grin. She probably had the cover in her phone case; it was more about seeing if she could still manage as she had in the old days. Without a pause, the bouncer returned the smile, nodding her in. Blowing him a kiss, she ducked in. Kala felt like laughing; tour or no tour, her current look more subtle than her usual stage makeup, she still had it.

Inside felt like a home she'd never left. Taking a deep breath, Kala let it out in relief. When things got too confusing, you went back to where you came from to sort it out. Or as close as you could come. This place was perfect. Dark, crowded, with cheap drinks and ratty furniture, the kind of place where young bands played their hearts out for what felt like an awesome paycheck, living like kings for a few days before the bills caught up and they had to find their next gig.

With a contented sigh, anonymous in the low lights, she got a cider and lurked near the wall, listening to the local band cover old-school Goth music: The Cure, Bauhaus, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Sisters of Mercy, all the good stuff. It felt like the days of Milk Bar and Xanadu, no lights or cameras, no interviews, no photoshoots. Just a girl who loved music on a Tuesday night, soaking up all of the tunes she loved and losing herself there. Back when this part of her life made sense. Before she'd started tinkering with it.

Before the band.

Before she'd made up her mind about singing.

When it had just been she and Sebast.

Hell, even before she and Sebast had become inseparable.

When it had just been her and this sound. The feelings it brought up in her.

Kala drifted along with the music, sipping on the cider slowly, turning down a few invitations to dance, and generally losing herself as she so rarely got to anymore. It was nice just to relax, letting her mind go gratefully blank.

And then the band transitioned into something familiar. _Very_ familiar. Kala opened her eyes and perked up then; their bassist was okay, but Robb hit that line with a lot more vibrancy. And their guitar guy didn't measure up to Morgan. The lead singer swung into the first verse, leaving space for lines he didn't have a co-singer to supply, and he didn't have Sebast's accent either, so it all seemed just a little bit off.

But still. _Damn_. She was listening to someone else's band covering one of _her_ band's songs, _her_ music, for the first time ever, and it made Kala giddy. She couldn't help moving to the music, humming under her breath, grinning like a fool the entire time.

And then they covered _another_ song, one of her solos, and she couldn't help herself. Kala kept her volume low, so that no one who wasn't standing right next to her could hear her, and sang her lines in perfect time.

That, later on, was the moment she screwed up. Because the lead singer saw her mouthing the lines, and grinned, pausing at the bridge. "Hey there, we got a KLK fan in the crowd. C'mere, sweetheart, you wanna sing with the band?"

It took Kala a moment to realize she'd been made. At that, she blinked, unsure of exactly what she should do. _Oh, fuck it, why not? What harm is there,_ the little voice in the back of her head whispered. _All they see is a pretty little girl who's singing along to her idol's songs. It'll be worth it._ At that thought, Kala threw her head back and laughed, feeling free and silly and wild. Yeah, she'd do it. "Sure!" she called, and bounced on up like she would've even six years ago, like any girl her age, singled out by a good-looking singer.

The rest of the band all grinned to each other, and the lead held the mic out to her. "What's your name, gorgeous?"

It was going to be too hard to resist, just watching how amused they were. She grinned wolfishly. Time to drop the facade. "I'll let you guess. Gimme the bridge again, please, boys." They did, and as her lines queued up, Kala leaned into the mic and hit the notes in perfect time. "I'll believe all your lies, just pretend you love me. Make believe, close your eyes, I'll be anything for you. Anything for _you_." She held the last word, drawing it out across four notes, and all of a sudden the club sat up.

"Holy shit, _KLK_?!" the singer yelped, and she couldn't hold back a laugh. The rush was unbelievable.

"I'm a little taller than I look on stage." Her grin blazed, that mischievous look in her eyes. "We played the Paramount Theatre a couple hours ago, I promise not to suck, c'mon and sing if you wanna sing," Kala chuckled, elated, and after a stunned moment, they rocked out the rest of the set doing _her_ music.

It was weirdly different, singing with strangers, but it reminded Kala forcefully of the early days of the band. And of the bands she had drifted in and out of since high school, the ways she was constantly blending with new configurations, new voices. Hot stage lights and the smell of spilled beer and the energy of the crowd smaller than a sold-out stadium, but so much more _direct_ when they were almost close enough to touch. Hell, the times she'd had to sing without a mic when the electricity would short out. It had been a wild ride. Kala didn't want to spend all night here – her hotel was on the other side of town, and her band would be refreshed and looking for trouble tomorrow – but right now this was the perfect antidote to how painfully she missed Jay.

They were getting to the end of their early set, all the boys in the band beaming at each other, and Kala looked back at the instrumentalists. Speaking of Jay, what would it hurt… Thus far, she'd picked duets so their singer could do Sebast's parts, but she was sorely tempted to sing another of her solos. Considering for a minute, she made up her mind. "Do you know Fire Breather?" she asked.

It was new enough, only performed as a few encores this tour, she expected them not to and would've let it go, but the bassist and drummer both nodded. "One of our buddies got hold of a bootleg. That one rocks," the guitarist said. "It's gonna be on the next album, right?"

"Yeah, I had planned it would be," Kala said with a laugh, choosing to ignore the source of the knowledge, and also never mind that she had thought of Jay whenever she sang it. She'd sing it tonight for him, wherever he was undercover, whatever insanity he was wrapped up in, and let herself get lost in the lyrics the way she never did with people who'd paid to see her. The need for him burned.

The insistent beat began, and then she came in, her voice torchy, "Town crier, village flyer, got a skull and crossbones on his chest. And I can't resist, when he looks like this…" She closed her eyes, letting her soul pour out in the lyrics until she hit the refrain and kicked in the power of her voice that she'd been holding back in this smaller space, wanting everyone in range to feel the way Jay made her heart ache in her chest.

"No, it's too much, burn my soul, up in flames we go, you fire breather… Ash and dust, on my tongue, smoke rise, trying to survive inside your arms…"

…

Jay got impatient and tripped his emergency exit plan the very next day. He waited until late in the day, when things were quiet. To his surprise, he never even had to show the messages from his 'sister' in the hospital in Metropolis. He wasn't exactly crucial to Crane's plan, anyway, and though Sauers frowned at letting him go, a guard was easily replaced. They hadn't noticed the tiny amounts of fear toxin he'd stolen, either, and the lack of suspicion made it easier to leave. Sauers even wished him a safe trip. If only all his undercover work could go that smoothly…

Jay dropped the data and the samples on Babs, and now that he was finally fucking _free_ he didn't waste any goddamned time looking Kala up. He could've taken a day to chill, just to get his mind back in place as Jay instead of Tommy, but he missed her too damn much for that. He sent a text first, but got no answer. According to the tour schedule, she was on her way from Albuquerque to Denver today, so probably she didn't have signal. Jay decided to surprise her. He had the money for a plane ticket, and she wouldn't expect him to pop up in the Wild West. It was worth it just to see the look on her face.

Jay bought a ticket for Denver, and called in a favor from Babs to use the GPS locate feature on Kala's phone so he could track her down and surprise her once he got there. Big Sister normally wouldn't help with something like that, but Jay got the feeling she approved of them. Didn't hurt that Babs let him know Kala had been checking in consistently; she'd tried to update Kala, too, but her phone was currently out of range of signal. Surprising K was charming enough to earn Babs' support for unorthodox use of technology.

Once she actually arrived in Denver, Kala would have signal, but Jay decided not to let her know he was free. Babs agreed to his plan with a chuckle, and quietly wiped both his message and her own out of the system before Kala ever saw them. The way it sounded, if she heard, she might fly to meet him, and for once Jay wanted to drop in unexpectedly on her. Not to mention, getting out of town meant his brothers could break out Crane's test subjects without his help. He might need the Tommy persona again sometime, and it'd be more useful if Crane didn't have a chance to notice the resemblance to a certain red-helmeted vigilante.

There had been a time, not too long ago, when he would've insisted on being in at the bust, and damn the consequences. His case, his work, his takedown. Jay was a little surprised to realize that he didn't care _who_ broke those people out, as long as it got done. And he trusted Dick and Tim to handle it. Just like he trusted Bruce and Babs to analyze Crane's notes and the fear toxin samples while Jay himself took a day to decompress. Once that would've meant scotch and old books with the TV droning away unwatched, but these days it meant Kala.

It was a four-hour flight from Gotham to Denver, and Jay's only qualm was having to sneak around the TSA. He could've taken the guns legitimately if he checked bags and had a permit, but that was more of a pain in the ass than he wanted to deal with. And he damn sure wasn't going anywhere _unarmed_. Really, in the event of a hijacking, he'd be more effective at securing the plane than the air marshals. For one, he knew not to fire a gun in a pressurized cabin. For another, no improvised weapon scared him. He'd probably just use his hand-to-hand skills if the situation arose.

For a few moments, Jay considered borrowing the BatWing, but if Bruce _hadn't_ figured it out yet, that would _really_ blow their cover. So a quick plane flight it was, no real challenge subverting the TSA for someone who'd trained as an assassin, and he'd track Kala down in the city. It shouldn't be _that_ hard.

He'd already missed the morning flights, so it took him until evening to get there, get settled, and start tracking K's phone. He missed her band's show, but then, tickets were sold out anyway, so he'd have to find her afterward. When Jay first pinged her phone, the program showed it as being at a hotel. Then a little later on, it was moving down the street. Jay waited for the signal to stop, then looked up the address it landed at.

A club wasn't so great, but he could work with it. He just needed to slip in, see if she was with her band or alone, and depending on which was the case either spring the surprise or just text her something like 'got intel, meet me out back'.

He ghosted into the Goth club, glad he'd worn all black again. Kala's sense of of fashion was _not_ contagious, this was just camouflage. At least Goth clubs were always dark, the better to stay anonymous. He was trying to spot her when all of a sudden he _heard_ her, loud and clear through the shitty sound system.

There was something about K's voice that, once he'd heard her sing live, he figured had to be part of being Kryptonian. Just a purity to the notes and a power to the emotion behind them that sent chills down his back like no other singer he'd ever heard … and he didn't even like her kind of music, usually.

Jay eased through the crowd toward the stage, and he saw her close her eyes for the chorus. She opened them again, and saw him, surprise plain in her expression. He grinned, and Kala looked away as her voice spiraled up again. Smart of her, they didn't want anyone to realize he _knew_ her, especially when she was out here giving an unscheduled performance. "Flame thrower, at the show – make my heart melt in the middle of the room. No, I can't stay away, now I'm begging you to stay…"

That was new, it wasn't one of her videos or on any of her albums, and the lyrics made the fine hairs on the nape of his neck stand up. Something about the beat of this one, too, the rhythm low and insistent, reminding him irresistibly of her hips swiveling up to meet him…

Kala ran through the next verse and then closed her eyes for the chorus again. "No, it's too much, burn my soul, up in flames we go, you fire breather. Ash and dust, on my tongue, smoke rise, trying to survive inside your arms." The last part of the song was just that refrain, repeated with more trembling intensity, and when she was done the club exploded into applause.

She threw her head back and laughed, that blazing sunshine smile, raising both hands, and called out the local band's name for the crowd. "Thank you for supporting music, now tip your band or at least buy 'em a round, because not too long ago I was counting on gigs like this to pay for dinner," Kala called. She kissed the other singer's cheek and hopped off the stage, and Jay had to quietly admire that. This obviously wasn't planned, but she didn't steal the show, she turned in a good performance but left the credit with the local guys, and reminded everyone that success like hers came from places like this.

And then she melted into the crowd, and Jay headed for the exit, planning to meet her there. She couldn't stay and drink without stealing the local band's thunder, so he might as well…

… she caught his elbow, still a dozen feet from the door. "Oh my God, I wasn't sure if you were _real_ ," Kala laughed, matching his stride to hug him sideways. He could feel the tenseness in her touch, the way her words were deliberately casual, knowing she was trying to keep things under wraps around civilian eyes. "Is it really you, Jay, or am I hallucinating from being deprived of your smartass after I developed such a tolerance?"

"More depraved than deprived if you actually missed me," he rumbled back in amusement, wrapping one arm around her shoulders.

Anything else he was gonna say got lost when she elbowed him in the side. Kala only chanced a momentary glance up at him, her gaze as complicated as he felt before she dropped them again with a snort. "It's been a few weeks of complete radio silence. After that long, even the snarking of know-it-all, trigger-happy assholes is welcome."

Jay tugged her close and kissed her hair. "Yeah, I missed you too, I actually flew commercial to get here. Pity me, I subjected myself and a bag full of guns to _business class_."

They were at the door, and Kala turned sideways to thread through the exit. Only once she was outside, she turned without a word and grabbed his jacket, yanking him down for a searing kiss. Jay returned it in equal measure, not caring that they were blocking the sidewalk or that people were walking around them while shaking their heads. "You idiot, I don't even wanna _know_ how you managed that," Kala sighed, leaning her forehead against his. "What makes you think you'd need guns out here, coming to see me?"

"I'm like a Boy Scout, I'm always prepared," he laughed, and she rolled her eyes at that Robin-worthy remark. "The TSA's nowhere near as good as they think they are. I don't really want to try that again if I don't have to, though, so how's about you fly me home?"

"You're willingly asking to fly with me?" Kala scoffed. "Now I really _am_ worried about you."

"You'll get me there faster than United will," Jay replied, smirking. "And since I haven't seen you in two and a half weeks, I am really damn interested in getting back to the apartment, aren't you?"

By way of answer, Kala kissed him again, long and deep and soul-searching. Jay ignored a couple of wolf-whistles from around them, just raising his middle finger in their general direction. K was too perfect for him to waste any of his attention on jealous assholes like that.

She pulled back, her smile sinful. "Let's get out of here, Red."

Neither of them noticed the two girls who had followed Kala out of the club, hoping for an autograph. Or that both of them had pulled out their phones and aimed the cameras at Kala and Jay.

…

Still stunned by his sudden reappearance, Kala had wasted no time getting them both back to the apartment, Jay throwing his bag carelessly aside once the door was closed. It was all impatience, a trail of outer-clothes from the door to the bed, unable to get enough of each other. The worry, the fear, every nervous thought for him while he'd been out of her sight was bound up in reassuring herself in the reality of him under her fingertips. She drowned herself in the sight and scent and feel and taste of him, Jay doing the same with her, hardly able to concentrate because they were too damn busy kissing and nipping and touching.

Every touch was proof that he was real, he was _here_ , he was hers – she craved him like the desert craved rain. No wonder the stark beauty she'd just left behind felt lonely to her, when Kala was used to mountains carpeted in green, alive with birdsong and cicadas, twinkling with fireflies. Jay made her feel like those thundery summer nights in the Carolina mountains, shivering on the edge of a thousand possibilities, and she dove into him gladly.

"That was a waste of a plane ticket," Kala laughed, yanking his shirt open and running her hands over his chest greedily. Had he ever felt so good? She stole a kiss before nipping his jaw. "You could've _called_. Hell, you could have _texted_ , even."

"That was way more fun," Jay protested, and popped the buttons on her blouse getting it out of his way. "Totally worth the look on your face – and that kiss outside the club."

Kala paused then, just looking at him meaningfully. "I'm absolutely not asking how much illegal bullshit you pulled altogether for this. The least of all was probably _finding_ me," she told him, shaking her head slightly.

Jay caught her hip then, and rolled her under him, pinning her down. She couldn't help the way that wrote an arch into spine, or the gasp she let out. Jay grinned, the sinful smile she'd missed so damn much, and replied, "Wasn't really my money anyway. Most of what's in my accounts is lifted from the bad guys, one way or another. I can't think of a better use for dirty money than coming to see _you_."

She would _not_ admit how much that got to her, that he had been so determined to see her. And, if she was completely honest, the fact that he was so goddamn fearless, in a way she never had been. God, he made her crazy. Kala's voice was breathy as she asked, "You gonna make some kind of joke about me being the dirtiest girl you know?"

"Not hardly," Jay teased. "Maybe something like … how much fun it is, getting my filthy hands all over you, 'cause you always come out clean somehow."

Her eyes widened at that, the words resonating to more than just pillow talk, but Jay stopped her mouth with a kiss. His hands on her were demanding, and Kala decided to just let go. As much of a delight as it was to mix a little sparring into their sex life, swapping back and forth with pinning each other playfully, this time she just wanted _him_. And if he was half as crazy for her as she'd been for him, he'd happily take command.

"You want to that bad? So do it," she challenged, deliberately putting her hands over her head. "You talk a good game, Red, back it up."

…

That was music to Jay's ears … and points southward, too. He didn't have to be gentle, yanking her jeans and panties off; wasn't like he could _hurt_ her, anyway, and they both knew K didn't get spooked by a little rough play any more than he did. In fact his girl loved it, a low chuckle in her throat as he tugged the tight denim off, and Jay made her gasp by kissing her belly.

He hadn't shaved as Tommy, and had enough beard scruff to make her squirm ticklishly. Jay moved upward, palming his kris to cut through her bra at the center, and even as Kala made a complaining noise at the rampant destruction of her clothes, he pressed his face between her breasts, turning to kiss them both. Kala _loved_ that, and God she was so damn _soft_ , it wasn't fucking fair that she could be strong enough to turn a bullet and still feel so silky and tender when he nuzzled into her. It was the contrast that drove him crazy, as always. Same with how risque she could be, for someone so damn _good_ in all the right ways, and for how much she loved the night for someone who lived on sunlight.

Kala was just too fucking perfect, that was all, it always came down to that, and the way she moaned when he cupped her breast was perfect, too. Jay couldn't resist, kissing and licking to make her writhe, though when she buried a hand in his hair to urge him on, he took her wrist and pinned it down again. Kala bucked her hips at that, and he smiled. Damn, he loved … all of this, really.

Jay knew what he'd almost thought, and kicked it aside again. This was no time to get all sappy and ridiculous. He could show K just how much he'd missed her without another word, without risking a chance that three words in particular might slip out in the heat of the moment.

And he'd been thinking a little too much, Kala giving a soft whimper of need as he slowed down, those hazel eyes wide and molten on his. Jay smiled, and devoted himself entirely to her body. By now he knew all kinds of ways to drive her wild, and he put that knowledge to very good use.

The need between them was too urgent for much teasing, and Jay claimed her roughly, holding her hands pinned over her head as he rocked within her. Kala purred and rolled her hips, wrapping her legs around his waist to get him just that much deeper. "C'mon, c'mon, you know I won't break," she gasped, her voice a hot whisper.

"You're just too damn good," he rumbled.

…

"No, that's you," Kala replied, and it was so true. He felt utterly perfect, everything she wanted and missed so much, and _oh_ just a couple weeks without him had made her so damn lonely it _hurt_. When she was with Jay, her mind and body and heart told her that he was all she needed, and even now a trickle of cold at the back of her mind warned her it was dangerous to feel this way. The rest of the world and its normal chaos faded away when he was near. He made her want to throw the day job aside, give it all up and just be a full-time vigilante like him, maybe even move to Gotham. The wildest part of her soul, Jay woke it up and gave it wings, and if she wasn't careful she'd throw away the _other_ half of her life for this.

She wouldn't let herself think too hard about that – and Jay wasn't really letting her _think_ , anyway, not when feeling overwhelmed her. Kala let her head fall back as she called out his name, glad of his hands on her wrists, because otherwise she'd be raking her nails down his back. She pulled against his hold on her, felt him tighten his grip in response, and all that meant to her was Jay never wanting to let her go, never getting enough of her. Kala shivered, needing that, needing it enough to blot out all of the confusion that had tugged at her. Needing _him_.

Looking up into his eyes, Kala let him see how fraught she was, just how much he staggered her. God help her, how much she wanted him. And felt the weight of her gaze hit him, seeing Jay's eyes widen and feeling his rhythm quicken. "Fuck, you don't even need the laser vision to set a guy on fire," he whispered harshly.

She arched up at that, his words striking straight into her core, breathing, "Now, Jay, _now_ ," as the storm began to break over her. He was right there with her, an endless of loop of wanting and being wanted, needing and being needed, the pair of them linked so tightly to each other it felt for a few seconds as if she couldn't tell where she ended and he began.

And then the world seemed to turn into blinding brilliance with the force of her climax, Jay roaring out his fulfillment, and both of them collapsing into a heap of tangled limbs afterward.

Once he caught his breath, Jay snuggled her close and heaved a sigh of contentment. "Damn, I missed you," he told her, breath tickling her ear.

"Not as much as I missed you," Kala murmured back, kissing his cheek. She slipped one hand loose to rub his back slowly, just savoring the reality of him.

"I was working as a guard for Scarecrow," he grunted. "At least you could be pretty sure every day of not getting a faceful of fear toxin. And that was _after_ I did the homeless gig again."

"Thank you for not bringing any of _that_ with you," she chuckled, shifting a little. "How are the kids?"

Jay shrugged. "Safe and well-fed and bitching about homework. Julio and Carl are still running that show. Now Carl wants to be a vigilante. Heart's in the right place, but _jeez_."

"Brave kids," Kala replied. "Maybe a little _too_ brave, sometimes."

"Yeah, Carl's only like fourteen at the most. Ballsiest kid I know. He's not even weirded out by the fact that he came on to me, when I was Tommy the first time," Jay mused.

Kala laughed in disbelief. "Yeah, definitely too brave. I mean, it works for _me_ , but…"

"You're different, you're a Super. And he didn't know I was Red Hood at the time. They're not _supposed_ to know who I am now, but Carl's too fucking smart. So's Julio. Selina's got her eye on both of 'em, making sure they don't get _too_ comfortable in the gutter." Jay yawned, settling himself more comfortably at her side. "Have I mentioned how much I like the fact that you don't get pissy about other people hitting on me? Because it's fucking refreshing, K."

She made an amused noise. "Don't make me a saint, yet. Carl was before we met. Also, _fourteen_. You don't fool around with kids."

"That's what I told him, pretty much," Jay said. "He was just trying to suck up to me because I'd stopped this other kid, Wiley, from beating up on him. Wiley had just figured out Carl was a girl, and the asshole thought that meant he could get some. I put a stop to _that_. I don't know what Carl's deal really is – shit, I dunno if _Carl_ knows – but if someone says they wanna be called a guy, I got no problem with that."

"Me neither. It's just common courtesy, not to mention, _his_ life," Kala replied, snuggling closer. "Then again, considering both of our choices, it's not like it's a big deal to us. It's more about who someone is than what they have in their pants, as far as I'm concerned."

"I'm gonna be real offended if you're not fond of what's in my pants," Jay laughed, nipping at her neck.

She squirmed away from the tickling. "Stop it, you know I am. Point is, I'd still want you if you were man, woman, or any other designation. Which, at this tenure, you damn well know, Red."

"I know. Lucky me. Only I could stumble across a girl who has superpowers, likes bad boys, looks damn good in a skintight suit, swings both ways, _and_ doesn't get psycho-jealous."

"You can be such a Neanderthal," Kala muttered, and kissed him again. "Yeah, well, I hate to ruin your image of me as not jealous, but if I'd _seen_ Sebast eyeing you that night, it would've been a different story." Just mentioning Sebast made her feel a little unsettled, especially in this context, so she hurried on, adding, "Also just because I haven't bitched about Donna lately doesn't mean I don't still feel a twinge. Still, if you were gonna drop me for the goddess, you would've left already. At least, I _think_ you would've."

Jay scoffed. "K. She said someone else's name in bed with me. Not going back to that anytime soon."

Kala leaned away, frowning. "She _what_? Fuck, Jay, that's cold." And never mind that she'd almost said _his_ name when Sebast snuggled up to her. It was different. She wasn't in that kind of relationship with Sebast, recent weirdness notwithstanding. It … it wasn't the same thing.

"I'm over it," Jay replied. "She's got issues. I mean, it was Dick's name she said, and they're besties." Kala squeaked at that, her eyes going wide with horror, and Jay gave a fatalistic smirk. "Yeah, issues. Also he's banged most of her friends, almost married Kori. I can see why she's got problems making a move, but I don't appreciate being Grayson-lite for her. Shit, even Talia was better than _that_. We might've both been fucking Bruce over, but at least _she_ remembered the right name."

That was a hell of a lot to consider, and Kala saw the issue immediately. "Ouch," was all Kala could say for a while. "Goddamn, Jay. All of a sudden I understand why things ended so badly with you and Donna. Maybe even a bit of why Dick still seems so pissed off about it."

"Well, his best girl ran off with his little brother," Jay said.

Kala just looked at him for a moment. He'd seen the two of them together, been within the community, and hadn't managed to hear the whispers? "Yeah. We'll go with that."

He looked up at her in the dark, arching a brow. "You think he's carrying a torch for her, too? They're besties, have been since before I came into the picture. Practically attached at the hip. And he's Dick Grayson, he loves everyone. Hell, he made a pass at _me_. Strictly for comfort purposes, mind you. If he cares about you, he's down for sexual healing."

"Yeah, but never with Troia, who he holds on a pedestal like a paragon. Ever notice that? She's beyond that for him." And nevermind how uncomfortably close that felt to her current situation. This was about Troia and Dick. She flicked him in the nose, frowning lightly. "For all you talk about the Grayson man-whoring, he never made a play for me. I think it's more complicated than you think. Also, he's a Bat. You guys run from what you're afraid of, and he does a lot of running."

"Yeah, he runs _after_ another one when he's scared of what he has. See, Babs. But that whole situation is complicated anyway. Babs is … you give Babs a hundred and ten percent, or you go the fuck home. She doesn't do things by halves."

"And you're deflecting," Kala pointed out, starting to feel a little guilt creep in. "Also, why are we talking about everyone else we've slept with when we're in bed together naked? Lemme tell you, Red, mentioning Donna _and_ Talia isn't doing anything for my mood."

"I thought every bisexual girl had a teenage crush on Wonder Woman. The little sister wouldn't be an issue if she wasn't so uptight – and straight," Jay teased. "That's just my luck, the one Amazon I hook up with is the only one who _doesn't_ like girls, too."

Kala took a deep breath and let it out in a huffing laugh. "Yeah, no, never had a crush on either of them. Once upon a time Diana was making eyes at my dad. It's all good now, Dad never even noticed, she knows he's married, and Mom and I are both cool with her. But it made Mom feel _real_ awkward for a while there, right around the time she and I were trying not to claw each other's eyes out because I was a melodramatic sixteen-year-old."

Jay rolled his eyes. "I don't even _live_ in Metropolis and I know your dad only has eyes for your mom, K. And they're like … them and Barry and Iris, those are the relationships everyone _wishes_ they could have. How could she not know that?"

That got a laugh from her. "It's not as easy as it looks from the outside. Mom was having problems with the fact that Dad doesn't age as fast as humans, and he's surrounded by hot younger women in tight uniforms. Never mind that Mom's five years younger than him, I guess having teenagers makes every parent feel old."

"So glad I never have to deal with _that_ bullshit," Jay laughed.

"The _point_ is, epic romance is harder than it looks," Kala continued. "They damn near got divorced, that year. In a way me getting my dumb ass kidnapped was a good thing, because it forced them to deal with their issues. But things were still awkward for a while. We all went to counseling after that."

Jay snickered. "Does your therapist know he had Superman on the couch?"

"No, thank God," Kala replied, chuckling. "He's smart enough to figure out there's a family secret, but he told Mom what he thought it was, and she about died laughing."

"Oh, yeah? What does he think, your mom cheated with Superman?" Jay asked.

"No, that's what everyone _else_ thought for a while," Kala growled. "Which is why Jase and I are damn careful not to show powers, or even talk to Dad if we see him when he's in uniform, because the tabloids eat that up. No, Dr. Marrin thought all _four_ of my parents were hooking up."

"Damn," Jay laughed. "That's gotta be complicated as hell."

"Especially since we had to let him believe it to keep him from hunting for the truth," Kala told him. "Lana about _died_. Daddy Richard, of course, thinks it's hilarious. It's an office rumor, too, he about laughs himself sick every time it gets brought up."

"Your family is _weird_ ," Jay told her.

"Yeah, the difference is, my family works with the public. Yours are all shut-ins," she shot back, and then grinned. "Also your dad is a founding member of the JLA, married to a freaking villain's daughter, _and_ sleeping with an internationally-wanted thief too. Not to mention the revolving door to his bedroom. Pretty sure _Bruce_ knows what a foursome is."

Jay actually snorted at that. "Shit, this one time he took the entire goddamn Russian ballet out for a cruise. Tabloids loved it. But since it was a cover, he left 'em all with Alfred."

That was unexpected, though it probably shouldn't have been. "Oh my God, poor Alfred," Kala laughed, considering it. "What the hell was Alfred supposed to do with a boatload of Russian ballet dancers?"

"I dunno, ask Leslie," Jay replied, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "The man's still got game, apparently, or we wouldn't all have cleared out of the Manor for two days when she came home. Speaking of which, you need to meet her."

"I really do. I probably should have before now, honestly," Kala admitted, quietly honored. "Maybe we'll swing by the Bowery later on."

"Maybe," Jay said, and tightened his arm around her waist. "Right now, I've got other ideas."

He was utterly impossible, this man. She looked at him wide-eyed in her best imitation of innocence. "Whatever could you possibly mean, Mr. Todd?"

He smiled wickedly, and nuzzled her throat. "Lemme show you instead."

* * *

 **Additional Authors' Note:**

AH CRAP WE FORGOT SOMETHING!

First of all, we are not songwriters. The song _Fire Breather_ is by Laurel - we adjusted the lyrics slightly.

Also, regarding Sebast and questioning his sexuality ... we absolutely do not want this portrayal to suggest that gay people need straightening out. The coauthors Lois and Anissa are a lesbian couple, after all. But we both believe that everyone is an individual. Labels like gay, straight, bisexual, pansexual, etc, are concepts we use to try to describe reality. It's human nature to want to understand things by categorizing them. Labels are not reality, though - reality is far messier than any neat list of labels would indicate. So it is always okay to question and reevaluate the labels you choose to use. It's also okay not to use labels at all. If you feel a certain label fits you well, wear it with pride! If none of them quite fit, make your own if you want. Your identity is up to YOU. Never let anyone else tell you otherwise.


	70. What's in a Name?

**Authors' Note:** Well, we're back. And our Kala Bagel is home, too, her ashes kept on the same shelf with the two dogs who raised her, and the two who raised them. Grief is a strange thing, everyone experiences it differently, and we would both like to thank you all for giving us a week to get our heads back in order before we returned to this epic fic. If you want a taste of what life with a pack of beagles is like, go to our profile and read _Ginger Snaps_. No real spoilers for this fic, though you'll learn the names of Jason and Elise's twins.

Okay, back to the fic. Buckle in, folks, it's about to get bumpy.

* * *

 _I wish to remain nameless,  
And live without shame.  
'Cause what's in a name, oh,  
I still remain the same._

 _You can call it what you want,  
You can call me _

_Anything you want.  
You can call us what you want..._

 _~Florence + the Machine, Remain Nameless_

* * *

Kala wasn't even sure of the hour when she finally made it back into the hotel, except that it was very late. She wore one of Jay's t-shirts under her jacket, once again, since he was so hell-bent on destroying her clothes. Ozzy, of all things, but it had been dark and she'd grabbed the first thing she'd felt was casual shirt material in his closet. She'd noticed it halfway home and was still snickering over it as the elevator dinged at the fifth floor.

Approaching the band's block of rooms, the four rooms on the far end of the hallway, she glanced briefly at Derek's door, using just enough x-ray vision to assure herself that the room was dark; thank God that bullet was dodged. She felt too good right now to have to deal with his bullshit, especially about unscheduled performances. Tonight had been just want she needed to feel like herself again, but the word about her singing at that club must've hit social media by now, and she intentionally didn't check her phone. The free publicity sure as hell couldn't do them any harm. One way or another, she'd deal with it all tomorrow.

As she carefully opened the door to her room, fumbling with the key-card as she came in, Kala stopped in her tracks. _Oh fuck._ Ice in her blood, she could only stare in disbelief at the unpleasant surprise waiting for her in the darkened room. Sebast was awake, still dressed and sitting up in the room's chair, staring at the door. Staring at _her_ as she walked in, with an expression that suggested she had deeply fucked up somehow.

Kala let the door fall shut behind her, staring at him as her heart tightened, her eyes wide. Just the way he was watching her when he clicked the light next to him on had Kala completely on edge. _Shit, that is not a good sign. No telling what's going through his head. How do I play this?_ Better to be light about it, act like it was no big deal, business as usual. "What's the look for?" she said carefully, trying for a slight reassuring smile as she came toward him. "It's about the time you usually stroll in anyway, Chupi. Don't you growl at me." No change. The stony way he looked at her made it clear that she wasn't going to get out of this easy. _Oh shit, he really is pissed. Fuck, it must have hit already. How is he even up at this hour? Dammit._ "Sebast, stop. Seriously. Why do I get the feeling this is about an unauthorized concert of my own. Because, before you start yelling, I didn't plan – "

"No, it's not about the club, Kala, it's about the guy you fucked afterward," Sebast spat. "Have you even looked at your phone?"

That rocked her back on her heels to hear aloud, hearing that venomous tone. It wasn't often that she heard it out of Sebast; more, she could count on two fingers how often it had been aimed at her. Oh fuck, this was not good. "What are you talking about?" Kala said back, cautiously, trying to read just how bad the fallout was. He'd been so damn paranoid lately, but the last few weeks of not seeing Jay had almost returned their relationship to normal, which she'd been overjoyed for. Her conscience pricked her then, a little voice in the back of her head taunting her. Well, okay, normal except for the other night, mauling him in the loft, and that moment, that kiss, in Albuquerque… And the bitching about where she went after the shows had stopped. Things at least settled down, _they_ had been okay. And now _this_.

Sebast got up and stalked over to her, holding out his phone. "I'm talking about your martial arts trainer, who definitely honed your tonsil-hockey technique," he snapped.

There on the screen was a short video, playing in an endless loop. Of her and Jay, standing outside the club, kissing deeply. It started out a little distance away, then zoomed in, her face in good focus … at least until their noses got smushed together by the eagerness of the kiss. She felt her heart drop, staring at it, and heard Sebast continue, his tone bitter. "It's been posted to Twitter, Facebook, Reddit, the works. There's still shots too. You fucking stood there, not even _aware_ that someone filmed you for a minute and half, too busy sucking face with this _one night stand_ who followed you to Denver a month later. So yeah, Kala, fucking explain _that_."

It felt like a slap, the accusation in his voice. And in the guilt that tried to rise up then, Kala also felt her temper stir. Much as she loved him, she wasn't going to let Sebast shame her with Jay. "So the fuck what? So what if it's all over the gossip sites? Newsflash: KLK Not a Nun! Also, An Exclusive: Water Is Wet and the Sky Is Blue! What does it matter, Sebast? I'm a goddamn popular singer, they talk about us all the time, anyway! Fuck's sake, I'm allowed to kiss a guy that isn't you! You do it all the time!"

"I don't do it on camera! And you're not allowed to fucking lie to _me_ about it!" he roared.

"I didn't lie to you! Any more than you lie to me about your men!" she shouted back. "You knew I slept with him! This isn't anything you didn't know, Sebast! You guys all wanted me to spill after we played Gotham, so I did!"

"Oh yeah?" Sebast challenged. "Except the only reason you ever said _anything_ was so we could drag the truth about Jenny Fuckin' Jiggles out of Robb, and you _still_ lied. To Derek, I get, maybe to the rest of the band, but to _me_? Goddammit, Kala, we don't do that shit to each other!"

This was leading to dangerous ground, to thoughts and feelings that she had been locking down for too long. Dragging it all out again in the light wouldn't help, could only hurt, so she pushed him away with the sharp side of her tongue. " _I never lied!_ " she shouted again, furious tears in her eyes. Kala hated this, hated every minute of it, but she had known. This was building the last few weeks, the tension between them had been thick and thrumming, the vibration strong enough that they couldn't ignore it. Upset, frustrated, she found herself saying the very words she knew she shouldn't. "Why can't you let this go? What good is this doing us? Fuck, why are you so far up my ass, anyway, Sebast? Since when do you watch every fucking thing I do like you're my goddamn brother?"

"Trust me, _chu_ _la_ , if I was up your ass you'd feel it. I'm not your brother, I'm your _partner_ ," he yelled back.

That bit deep. And with good reason. At that, Kala flinched, eyes stinging now. As brutal as it was, Sebast _did_ have a point. Even if he was stabbing it into her heart just now. She couldn't deny it, how could she even think of doing it? Before this summer, before she had gone to Gotham, Sebast had been the only person she had ever claimed that with. She'd had boyfriends, sure, men that she had loved, but there was something more with Sebast. Because of the music, because they knew and accepted each other in all ways. The guilt burned then, knowing he was right. Knowing there were things she had shielded him from, things that might have fatally complicated their friendship, might have made him see her differently. He was her best friend, her Chupi, the one thing in her life that was always there, always made sense. Now it just didn't.

And now … now there was Jay. Jay knew her, knew her to see her even under all the ways she had learned to hide. Knew who she was under the skin, inside her head. There was nothing about her heritage, her legacy, the woman she was outside of it all, that he didn't know. And he didn't care. There were no secrets with Jay, except the ones she kept about her other partner. Finally faced with it, Kala felt ill. Sebast was right.

He ranted on, "Also, if he's your martial arts trainer, explain _this_ shit to me." And scrolled through his phone, shoving another picture up to her face. Kala raised her arm to backhand the phone away … and then saw what he'd scrolled up.

It was a bad shot, from a long distance, but she knew that profile. And the headline below it sealed the deal. _Middle Wayne Brother Attends Charity Masquerade, first public appearance in years._ "Oh, God," Kala whispered, the ice now shivering up her spine. For moment, she couldn't breathe. It had been years since she'd been as terrified as she was now, at the nightmare she might have set in motion. "Oh, God, _no_. Sebast, tell me that they haven't ID'd him yet. Please, I know you're pissed, but tell me no one else knows about this."

"No one else knows you've been doing nothing but lying since the summer," Sebast snarled. "So no, I'm the only one who thought to go check on where I've seen that hair and those cheekbones before. Surprise, I saw it in _Gotham_. The beard scruff's probably camouflage enough, but I knew it had to be the guy you've been hiding from me. Everything's changed, but the one thing I still believe is that you don't just randomly fuck groupies, he had to mean something. So I went looking to see who was connected to the Waynes, and guess what? You lied about that, too. Friend of the family, my ass, he fucking _is_ a Wayne. I never had to worry about Dick Grayson, you were shacking up with Jason Todd, the bad-boy brother with the mysterious past."

"Sebast," she started, and realization hit. How had he even made that connection? And what else had he guessed at? Jay's secret identity – his whole _family's_ identities – were on the line now. Kala groped desperately for a way to deflect, and found only horrified disbelief. "For fuck's sake, you photo-stalked the fucking _Waynes_?"

"Well _you_ weren't gonna give me a straight goddamn answer about anything," he snapped. "Martial arts trainer my ass, you've been fucking a Wayne boy! For how fucking long?! Since the summer when you never answered your phone?"

That was another loaded barb, stinging with the realization that he really believed that's why she'd been so distant. And she couldn't explain that part of it without jeopardizing the real truth. "It wasn't like that! Sebast, you don't understand! It wasn't over the summer – I wasn't lying to you when I told you I didn't go there to hook up! And he really _was_ my martial arts trainer," she began, and he cut her off.

"Like I believe anything you have to say about him at this point!" He turned from her and slapped the empty ice bucket off the table nearby, sending it clattering across the floor. "Fuck, for the first time since I met you _I don't trust you!_ "

"Goddammit, Sebast, why does it fucking matter?" Kala cried out in desperation, feeling those words slam into her heart. All these years they'd known each other, and it was falling apart so fast she felt like the floor was falling away beneath her. She tried, desperately, to reason with him. "So if you know I'm sleeping with one of the Wayne boys, of _course_ I kept that on the down-low, why is it such a big fucking deal? To _you_?"

" _Because you fucking_ _ **lied**_ _to me!"_ Sebast thundered. "Just now you said you never lied, and all you've done is lie like a fuckin' rug since you went to Gotham!"

Her fraying temper snapped. Okay, _enough_. E-goddamn-nough. "You wanna say it fifteen more times? Will that make you feel better? Fine, I fucking lied about parts of it! I'm sorry, I had to!"

If anything, he looked _more_ outraged. "You _had_ to? You had to lie to _me_ , over and over and _over_ again? Why? What goddamn purpose was there to lying about it? As if I wouldn't figure it out eventually, especially when you sucked face with him in front of two cameras like a stupid _pendeja_!"

"Sebast, what the fuck is this really about?" Kala finally snarled, her pulse pounding in her temples. At this point, she was tired of obfuscating things. Better to just be out with it. "Are you more jealous of him or more jealous of me? Is _that_ what this is about?"

That caught him off guard, and Sebast reeled. He rallied quickly. "Oh, so we're gonna talk about it now?" he said in dangerous tones. "Okay, fine, let's _talk_ about it. I'm jealous of you 'cause he's gorgeous, but I can get my dick sucked by five gorgeous boys in a night if I want to."

"Yeah, we all know that," Kala spat, letting her own anger show. It was another lie to say it didn't hurt, the way he hadn't even tried to hide his conquests since the summer, sex seeming like the only thing on his brain besides the tour, ever since she'd come home. He had always kept it in the background, their relationship more important. "It's like an Olympic sport for you these days, _chulo_. Pretty sure the whole world knows that by this point."

"Now who's jealous?" he shot back. "I'm jealous of _him_ 'cause he's fucking _my girl_. Cause the dick was so good he's got you lying to the guy you own a fucking house with. The guy you worked and lived with for the last five years. The guy who knows how you take your coffee and that you always forget to tell them to hold the onions when you order a burger and that weird face you make when you do your eyeliner. Dammit, Kala, if you just wanted to fuck a gorgeous dark-haired boy, you coulda been fucking _**me**_."

The world stopped then, Kala shocked and shaken. For a long moment, all she could do was stare, her eyes going wide. Her whole world doing a slow roll, leaving her askew. They _never_ talked about this, not even the morning after it happened, not once had they spoken to each other or anyone else about that one drunken night. She couldn't breathe, no air in the room.

And then her throat unlocked, drawing in a long gasp of air that scorched. "Now you're gonna bring that up? _Now_? After I've had a crush on your stupid-pretty ass since I was fifteen fucking years old, after you set out to knock Aunt Tobie off the billboard as Metropolis' Gayest Citizen and I _respected that_ because your goddamn family never did, after I pretended that night didn't mean anything because that's not who you are, _**now**_ you're gonna say something? Because you found out I'm fucking a Wayne, _now_ this is what you do? Now you open your fucking mouth? Why the fuck now?" It was all she had not to sob. Everything was wrong, how had it gotten so wrong?

"It doesn't matter that he's a fucking Wayne!" Sebast shouted. "It matters that you've been lying and hiding for _months!_ When did you stop being able to tell me who you were dating, Kala? I _helped_ you run around with Marlene so the label wouldn't find out, and _she_ told me to unbend and make a fuckin' move while she was eating you every night like a five-course fucking meal!"

That was another knife in her heart, and Kala looked stricken. _Marlene_ had known. Marlene, whom Kala had been serious enough about to bring her home for Thanksgiving dinner, but who had told her they weren't quite serious enough. That the label would yank her off the tour and probably fire her for sleeping with the talent, and that Kala herself wouldn't want to be responsible for that. _'Let it be what it is, Kala,'_ she'd said gently, snuggled up in bed one night counting the minutes 'til she had to sneak back to her own room with Sebast. _'We're not the sapphic version of Tristan and Isolde. We don't have to be. I like you a lot, we're both having fun, and that's good enough for me.'_ She'd said that, running deft fingers along Kala's flank in the dark of another anonymous hotel room, and then she'd told _Sebast_ to make a damn move already. Kala could hear it in her dry voice.

That fucking _hurt_. Yet another relationship with a built-in expiration date, another time Kala had given her heart a little too quickly when they both knew it couldn't last. She wanted to fall deeply, madly in love, and the curse of it was, she _did_. Always. Even when she knew it was impossible. Marlene who was forbidden, Dustin who couldn't live in her world, even Nick whom she'd chosen as a teacher the year before he left for college, and who still had a place in her heart today.

And oh, through all of it there had been Sebast, as much a part of her as the brother who'd shared her womb, but he _wasn't_ her brother, her feelings weren't fraternal at all, never had been fully, and it had just taken one very drunk night to prove _that_. Now she was at war between the two people she loved the most, and Kala felt a deep chill realizing that _Jay_ was right there level with Sebast. For a moment all she could feel was panic, wondering how the hell she'd gotten here and how the fuck she could possibly choose between them. _Why_? Why did she even _have_ to choose?

And then came the deeper chill. Her nightmare was right, Dru-Zod had tried to warn her, she was living two lives and it was both heaven and hell. She had _both_ of her childhood dreams and she'd had a partner for each, but now that Sebast knew, it was all falling apart.

The answer to Sebast's question hurt, too, because Kala knew why. Every other lover in her life had been a civilian. Jay knew her primarily as the Blur, but he didn't _just_ know the Blur, he knew about KLK too, though not enough. And he understood her as deeply as Sebast did, because part of her was so much like him. He was the only one who'd ever gotten to know the Empress, who vanished when her father or brother were even _mentioned_ , and Jay – fucking impossible brave idiot Jay – was _flirting_ with her. With Kala Kal-El, who had almost been Kala Dru-Zod. Kala as she'd been at sixteen, terrified out of her mind, fucked up and fucked over and so very lost, and of course Jay saw her and knew her and never feared her. He'd been just as lost, and found his way back despite everything.

Kala Kal-El, that Sebast had no clue of. Sebast had never even _seen_ that. He had seen seen flashes, glimpses of her, but didn't know her for what she was. Hell, he didn't even know he was yelling at a woman who'd _flown_ from Denver to Gotham and back without ever buying a plane ticket. She didn't want him to see the monster in her, not when he didn't even know her family's secret. If she told him that, it would change everything – he was so furious at her for lying about who she'd slept with, he'd be even more furious if he learned she'd lied about being _human_.

Tears welling up, Kala leaned on her anger for strength. She'd been hurt too much to do anything else, and it wasn't in her nature to crumple up and cry. "I didn't tell you because I knew you'd be a fucking obnoxious _child_ about it," she snarled. "And oh look, I was _right!_ "

" _I'm_ being a child?! Who's sneaking off to fuck and leaving us to deal with Derek?" he yelled back.

"You mean like _you_ do every night?" she retorted. "You even do it when I'm here! I'm surprised Grindr hasn't made you their spokesman!"

"And you haven't noticed that I haven't gone out in two weeks, haven't slept with anyone else, because all of a sudden you 'need your space' and you're staying up half the night to avoid me," Sebast spat back. "Probably sexting this bastard while I'm staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out if I've lost my mind or you have."

It was on the tip of her tongue to say she hadn't spoken to Jay in weeks, that part of why she'd been so distracted was missing him, but then she couldn't explain why he was out of communication. Sebast couldn't know about Red Hood, either, so she couldn't mention undercover assignments. And she didn't have the wit to make up a plausible excuse – which was only another lie, and no matter what he said, she _did_ hate lying to him.

Sebast went on, "I've been trying to sort my shit out since summer, since realizing just how bad I missed you when you were gone, and you up and fuckin' _replaced_ me."

"I did _not_ replace you!" she protested, tears stinging her eyes. It didn't help at all that some part of her was heartbroken with regret. That Sebast was saying something only _now_ , that he might've tried for a real relationship with her … she'd wanted that for _years_. And it was only on the table now that she was with someone else.

His eyes blazed. "Oh yeah? You're not telling _me_ what's going on with you, we've barely talked. Does this sonofabitch know about Luthor? About Zod?"

She couldn't hide the way that hit her in the gut, the tears finally blurring her vision. Jay knew … from reading her file, and a conversation when she'd woken up from a nightmare. As Sebast's lips thinned in anger at what he thought was confirmation, she tried desperately to mitigate the damage. "He wasn't there when it happened."

That only made Sebast angrier. "No. _I_ was. I'm the fucking idiot who cut my hair so your dumb-ass brother could go save you. I wanted to go with them but I don't have twin-powers. _Elise_ got to tag along, she wasn't even dating Jason at the time, but your _best fucking friend_ had to sit home and get lectured and wonder if you were coming back _alive_ , and you've kept your jaw wired shut about half of what happened then even though I've tried to make it clear you can tell me _anything_ and I'll still love you!"

The mere mention of love here made her want to scream. In a moment of madness, she wanted to take it all back. Everything, all of it, the last two years. Make it all right again. But it was too late, far too late, and she couldn't.

"I can't tell you! I don't have the right!" Kala cried. "This involved some shit with my godfather that I'm not even supposed to know!" It burned like acid to keep lying, but this was as close to the truth as she dared to get. These were her _father's_ secrets and she owed it to him to keep them. To the whole family. If Sebast had gone to Nevada, he would _know_ the truth. And how different would their lives be with the secret laid bare?

Would that one drunken night even have happened, if he'd known what she was?

And if it had, would the morning after have been different?

" _Bullshit!_ " he roared, scattering those desperate thoughts. "The boys we work with every fuckin' day barely know about Superman being your godfather. You can tell me _anything_ , you dizzy bitch, there's no secret I won't keep for you, don't you _know_ that by now? Why the fuck are you still lying?! What more do I have to prove?"

Just when she thought he couldn't hit her any harder. He was right, he had earned her trust, long ago earned it, but she couldn't take that chance. "They're not _my_ secrets to _tell_ ," she shot back, her heart breaking. But deep inside her chest, the pain was compressing down to a glowing ember. Sebast had known her mother long enough to know the Lane women could only be hurt so much before they lashed out. She couldn't take much more of this, they had never fought like this.

"Oh, like half of Metropolis doesn't think your mom fucked Superman back in the day," Sebast snapped. "I don't fuckin' care about them, I care about _you_. This capes shit only gets you in trouble. Didja miss the fact that Luthor kidnapped your ass because of Superman? If your mom had been like, I dunno, a bank teller, you would've never had to go through that shit!"

The insult to her father, and her mother, however mild, brought her hackles up. "You don't know the first thing about him, about anything between him and my mother," she growled. "You think you do, all of _Metropolis_ does, anyone who can read a newspaper thinks they know Superman, but you don't know _anything_."

"And you won't fucking _tell_ me anything," Sebast snarled.

The check-rein on her temper, fraying since he'd confronted her, finally snapped. "I told you everything that matters! Why the fuck do you care? This isn't about them, anyway, this is about _us_! Why won't you let this shit go, Sebast? It's not your fucking problem! You never cared about the superhero connection!"

"I never thought _you_ did, either!" Sebast yelled. "And bullshit, you told me everything that matters – you wouldn't be so pissed if it didn't matter! You wouldn't be running scared and fucking avoiding me if none of it mattered! Now you're off confiding in this fucker you just met over the summer and lying to me? How much of it does _he_ know, Kala? What else that you never bothered to tell _me_ , huh? Damn, how good _is_ that dick?!"

He never thought she cared, either? When the superhero connection was her _father_ , her legacy, half her life? Kala bristled, cocking a hand back to slap him for that…

… and remembered who she was, and how her mother's palm had stung her cheek that New Year's Eve, how she'd thoughtlessly wound up to return the slap and how Kal-El had intervened. _You have the strength. If you hit Lois, you could break her neck._

A deep chill ran down Kala's spine, and she stepped back, gathering her splintered control. She'd almost crossed a line that couldn't be forgiven. That she could never step back from. It wasn't just the Kala he knew growing furious; insulting Jay and her father and half her heritage woke the Empress' temper, too. And that was a chance she refused to take with him. "Get out," Kala said hoarsely.

"Fuck you, we're gonna get to the bottom of this," he shot back. "Whatever the hell this guy is to you, he _still_ doesn't know you like I do."

Memory and guilt and horror. He didn't know her as well as he thought he did, but if this kept on, he'd learn. She'd almost slapped him, how long before her eyes sparked red? And she'd kissed him, in the loft – knowing Jay was out there undercover, she'd still kissed Sebast back with all the longing of her teenage crush. She'd stopped it before it could be more than that, before she couldn't excuse it as random madness and loneliness. But she couldn't deny it.

If this went any further, _someone_ was going to get hurt too badly to heal, whether it was physical or emotional.

With rage and fear boiling over, not trust herself a moment longer, Kala strode past Sebast, grabbed up his suitcase, and stormed to the hotel balcony. "The fuck do you think you're doing?" he bellowed, but she made it very clear, throwing the door open.

She throttled down the strength at the last second, pitching his suitcase out the balcony door and over its railing. They were on the fifth floor; it took a second for the sound of it smashing into someone's car to reach her. Kala whirled on Sebast, her eyes almost literally blazing, and snarled, " _Get. Out."_

He looked at her, wide-eyed, and for the first time in their lives Kala saw something like fear in his expression. But he clenched his jaw, his face turning determined, and snatched up his smaller bag from the table and stalked to the door.

Kala stood perfectly still, holding on to the tornado of rage and pain and heartbreak and fear inside her by the thinnest margin, and as Sebast stepped out, he didn't even look at her to say, "You want me out, I'm _out_. Better go find that guy you sang with tonight."

And then slammed the door behind him.

Kala heard him walking away, as horror and stark cold reality washed over her. What the hell had she done? This was just about she and Sebast, what about the band? What about the _tour_? What had this fight just done to _all_ of them? Sebast sounded horribly final…

A moment later, Derek was pounding on her door. "What the hell is going on in there? Did you just throw a _suitcase_ off the balcony?"

" _Fuck off!_ " Kala roared at him, and caught herself before she could fling the door open and lay into him. The way she felt right now, it wouldn't just be a verbal beat-down … and she knew, oh God she knew too well what her temper could do, if she lost control of it.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Derek shouted back. And tried the door despite the hotel's locks.

Kala crossed the room before even she knew it, and managed to catch herself so that she only slapped the door instead of putting her fist through it. It still trembled in its frame from the force of the blow. "Derek I swear to God if you don't get the fuck away from me _right now_ I'm gonna seriously regret what I do to you," she snarled, voice shaking with wrath.

Doors were opening along the hall, and she heard Ned outside. "C'mon, Derek, whatever it is, it's not good. Give it a minute. Leave her alone, she'll be okay. We'll figure out."

Derek had real fear in his voice now, and Kala winced to hear it even as part of her accepted it as her due, "She's out of her goddamn mind. She's been completely unpredictable since we started. And where the hell is _he_ going?" With that, she hear Derek's voice grow distant. He had to be following Sebast out. After a minute, she heard the boys leave, too.

Kala slumped to the floor, buried her face in her hands, and wept. For herself, for Sebast, for Jay, for all the bullshit she'd brought down on the band with one long foolish kiss outside a club.

…

Sebast thought he'd heard Kala angry before. He realized he was very, _very_ wrong, as she looked at him like she wanted to snap him in half.

And for the first time in eight years of knowing her, he remembered that she was a blue belt and that title _meant something_. She probably _could_ snap him in half, if she really wanted to. He blinked, amazed to find that the part of him that had always cheered when she kicked some idiot bully's ass was now warning that _he_ might be next on that list.

Any thought of trying to reason with her vanished when she grabbed his suitcase and flung it off the balcony. Sebast stared, shocked, and when she ordered him out, he could only gather what was left of his dignity and go.

With one parting shot over his shoulder, because _no one_ threatened him, explicitly or implicitly. No way in hell was he gonna stick around for _that_ bullshit. Kala wanted to lie and hide and all that other shit, fine, but if she wasn't even gonna _try_ to talk it through, then fuck her. Fuck all of it. Let her have the band, it was her dream anyway.

Balcony doors were starting to open as he walked out of the hotel and over to the car with the smashed windshield and dented hood. Sebast grabbed his suitcase by the handle and yanked it free, aware of surprised exclamations from up above. The night clerk ran out as he started to wheel it down the sidewalk, and yelled, "Hey! You can't do that!"

"I'm not the one who tossed it," Sebast called, not turning around. "Talk to the lady in 518. Or her manager in 515." Let Derek handle this shit, it was his fucking job to manage the talent. And KLK had always been pretty tame, as bands went. They never wrecked rooms. The insurance rider could cover one fucked-up car. Which wasn't even his problem anymore.

His mind buzzing, Sebast just walked, heading for the airport. They'd passed it on the way in, and if he got lost, he had his phone. Right now, he needed to _move_ more than anything, because the minute he slowed down the horrible feeling of loss dogging his heels would jump up and break his heart for good.

 _Madre de Dios,_ had he really said all that to _Kala_? His best friend, his partner, his girl in every way but one? And if he'd been a little smarter or a little quicker, maybe she'd have been his girl that way, too. Too bad, too late, he'd lost out to a trust-fund Wayne boy with blue eyes and a wicked smile.

What the _hell_ was wrong with Kala, anyway? Pretty rich boys weren't her thing, never had been. She tended to scoff at the pretensions of the wealthy – her family was comfortably middle-class, and her stepmom was loaded, but despite the large checks rolling in from the label, Kala had never tried to live like a rich person. The craziest shit she'd ever bought was a giant crystal sink, and even _that_ was something for the house. No way in hell was she with this guy for his _money_ – Kala couldn't be that shallow. Sebast couldn't believe that, even though she'd obviously changed since the summer.

He couldn't understand it. And trying to was just giving him a splitting headache.

Sebast kept trudging onward. His phone started to go off, but he went through and blocked all the bands' numbers, Derek's number, every number that called or texted until it went silent again. The streets were dark and quiet at this hour, but when he heard a car, he stopped and stuck his thumb out, trying to look innocuous. Hitching rides was dangerous, but the crime level out west wasn't as bad as Metropolis or Gotham, right?

The first few cars passed without slowing, but someone finally stopped, an older woman with a crew cut and serious eyes driving an SUV. Sebast let himself sigh slightly in relief; women were a lot less likely to be serial killers. She gave him an appraising look, and asked, "Where are you headed, son?"

"The airport," he told her truthfully. "I gotta get home to Metropolis in a hurry."

She nodded. "Got your ticket already?"

"Nah, but I got Mastercard," he said with forced humor…

… and froze, his hand going to his pocket and finding only his phone.

 _Oh, shit,_ he thought, his gut clenching. His wallet was on the tour bus – they never brought them into the hotels anymore. Everything in the room got charged to the tour, anyway, and after Robb had forgotten his once and had to get it mailed to the next stop, all of them had just started leaving their wallets in the more secure safe on the tour bus.

And with all the talk he'd overheard about phones getting hacked, he never saved his credit card information on his phone. There was no way he could buy a plane ticket unless he turned around.

"Something wrong?" the woman asked.

"Yeah, I just realized I left my wallet," he sighed. "Never mind, I got emergency funds. But can you take me to the bus station, instead? It's gonna be a longer trip than I thought."

She smiled. "Hop in, kid."

Sebast did so, putting his luggage in the backseat, and let his head fall back against the seat. "You sure you have bus fare covered?" the driver asked him as she pulled back into traffic.

The hint of charity lurking in her voice almost broke him, and Sebast hardened his heart against it, thinking fast. He'd never ridden any distance on a bus before. It couldn't be _that_ bad, right? Bus fare around Metropolis was cheap, and buses were the least ritzy form of travel. His emergency hundred slid into his phone case should cover it. "I'm fine, thanks," he told her, shocked to hear the unshed tears in his own voice.

Was this the end of him and Kala? Really? Had she changed _that_ much, that she'd pick some guy she met this summer over _him_?

Sebast clenched his jaw, made himself think, _Secrets and lies, bitch, I won't put up with either,_ and turned his mind toward what he'd say when he got home.

…

Dinah woke up to Babs' phone chirping again. They were already on high security, with Joker on the loose, so she sat up blearily just in time to hear Babs curse. She didn't sound frightened, just angry, and Dinah figured that meant it wasn't a threat to _them_. "What's going on?" she asked, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"These damn careless kids," Babs muttered, dropping her phone to the coverlet. "Ah, _shit_. I need the mainframe. I'm going to rake them both over the coals, they damn well _know_ better."

She tugged her chair closer and transferred into it with the ease of long practice, and despite the situation Dinah admired the way her biceps bunched beneath the thin sleeves of the nightshirt she wore. "Which kids? What'd they do?"

"Kala and Jay. The worst part is, I _helped_ them. I didn't think _either_ of them were this stupid." With that, Babs snatched up her phone and wheeled out.

Dinah thought about going back to sleep, and decided it sounded like enough trouble that she might need to know about it. And Babs was going to need some kind of sustenance. She glanced at the clock; it was late enough to be early, really, and coffee was probably a good idea.

By the time she made it into the main computer room, Babs was hunched over her console like a gargoyle, muttering increasingly improbable profanity. Dinah held the coffee out until Babs looked at it, and let her get a sip in before asking, "What did they _do_?"

"I helped him surprise her in Denver tonight," Babs replied. "And she was _so_ surprised, she kissed him outside a club there. She gave an impromptu performance with a local band that was covering her songs, and I guess he met her there, because they kissed on the sidewalk outside."

"And we know this how?" Dinah asked, thinking not even Oracle had cameras in _Denver_. She hoped, anyway.

"Because I have an alert set for any sharp change in her hashtag trending on social media, and it just spiked. Seems two of her fans recorded the whole damn thing," Babs growled. "At least, I'm seeing two primary sources here. One photos and video, one just photos. Once the story broke about her being at the club, they uploaded the material."

Dinah held still for a moment. "How clear is his face?"

"They shot over his shoulder, mostly," Babs said. "And he didn't shave. We should be safe. Besides, I've been prepared for something like this for years – you never know when someone will catch one of us on camera. I'm releasing a worm to insert compression artifacts in all copies of the images currently online. As soon as this search finishes, I'll add it to the two phones, too, and corrupt the originals. Then we only have to worry about anyone who downloaded it in the last hour, before I got the notification. I wish I could've gotten on this sooner – like when it was first uploaded."

"Why don't you have something set up to let you know when any new media gets uploaded?" Dinah asked, knowing there had to be a reason. Babs _always_ had a reason.

The redhead gave a long-suffering sigh. "Because of something called _fanart_. Which exists for the superhero fan community, too, as well as what's known as 'bandom'. You should see the way people draw _you_."

"Oh, God, no. Hard pass." Scrubbing a hand over her face again, Dinah tried to think it through, but impressions jumbled together. As chairwoman, she worried about their identities being compromised. As Babs' girlfriend, she wanted to smack them both upside the head for being so careless and causing extra stress and work where it definitely wasn't needed. As a colleague and friend to them both, she was chagrined on their behalf, as she would be for anyone caught acting recklessly.

And then it hit her. "Oh hell. Babs, no one else knows they're together but the two of us. They kept a lid on their whole little affair."

"Not for much longer," Babs said grimly. "I can't help them there. They should've known they couldn't hide it from either family for long."

Dinah leaned against Babs' chair, careful not to shift her. She knew a little too much about trying to keep relationships private, and fearing the general reaction when they became suddenly public. "Poor stupid kids," she sighed. "And that's the whole problem, they _are_ just kids and they had a moment where they acted like any twenty-somethings in love. I hope this doesn't wreck them."

"Me too," Babs allowed, and then dove back into her research.

On the screen, the video played. Kala seized Jay's collar and yanked him down for a smiling kiss, the love that neither of them had spoken of shining in her eyes. It was all so very charming and romantic, the way the two _never_ behaved in front of witnesses.

She _really_ hoped this didn't have further-reaching implications.

…

Jay woke up to his phone going off insistently, and he glared at it, ready to throw the thing across the room, before he saw Kala's name on the screen. _That_ was weird, enough so that he answered it. "'Lo?"

It took a minute before she actually spoke, not sounding like herself at all. "Jay?" said the low voice on the other end, shaking and a little broken. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know it's really late. I didn't want to wake you up, not like this, but … we have a problem."

She'd snuck out again while he slept, the sheets beside him still a little warm and rumpled from where she'd dozed off. Kala couldn't have been gone too terribly long. "'S okay. Wha's wrong?" he asked, and failed to stifle a yawn.

"Oh God, I'm a fucking idiot, is what's wrong." A shuddery little laugh that hurt to hear before she continued, "The club. Someone … fuck, someone filmed us kissing outside the club, Jay. And uploaded it."

He blinked, at first thinking, _So what?_ And then he came all the way awake as abruptly as if someone had dashed ice water in his face. "Jesus fuck on a baked potato," he said, his voice cracking. "They ID'd you?" Even as he asked, he knew the question was stupid. She'd been singing as KLK just moments before.

"I'm the one they recognized, the heap-big rock star," she responded, sounding on the verge of tears. "God, it's all over social media. I've been doing as thorough a search as I can from here. None of them has figured _you_ out, and I'm going to avoid any and all questions, but Jay … Sebast knows. He saw it before I even walked in the door. I can't believe he saw you that well, but he remembered you from the show in Gotham. And he looked up the known Wayne associates – he knows it's you. He knows your name."

And _that_ was enough to make his gut clench. His first half-formed thought was something about protecting his identity at _all_ costs … but Sebast was a _civilian_. No matter how much trouble he might cause, the guy wasn't on Jay's level. Going after him was fundamentally wrong, even if he was threatening Jay's whole secret identity.

 _Fuck_ , not just his, if he copped to Jay being Red Hood then the whole family was in danger. "Jesus H. Christ. K, does he know you're the Blur? Has he figured that out?" Jay managed to squeak out.

Another heavy, sobbing breath. "No, Jay, no, I kept that from him. That's part of the problem," she managed, sounding like she was fighting to keep it all together. "He just thinks I hooked up with _you_ over the summer, instead of Dick. He thinks I've been lying to him about everything ever since then. Probably everything before, too. I fucked up, I fucked up so bad." Kala's voice just sounded so lost, so twisted-up and frightened. "Jay … he just walked out. Well, I threw him out. Well, really I threw his suitcase off the balcony but I knew if he kept on I was gonna lose my temper and I _can't_ , I can't do that, not to him, not to _anyone_ , I made him go but I think he's _gone_ , he's blocked everyone in the band, I think he _left_ , Jay."

Shit, she _was_ crying. "Hey, easy," he tried to soothe. "Calm down, K, it'll be all right. He just needs to blow off steam. You can explain it later."

"I don't think I _can_ ," she said miserably. "I think it's too late. He just … _God_." He heard a muffled thud then, like she maybe hit something nearby. "I don't know what to do. He's never done this before, not like this. I can't even… No, Jay, he's _gone_."

Jay had no idea what to do or say, so he settled for the first thing that crossed his mind. "Come over here," he told her.

Kala gave a watery laugh. "God, do I wish. Just for two seconds. But not like this, not right now. Derek's losing his shit across the hall, on the phone with the label, the boys are scared to death, if I leave they'll all panic. No one knows what to do. One of their leads just _walked out_ of a major tour. I … I don't have any clue what comes next. The last thing I want right now is all of this bullshit, but Jay, I can't. I _can't_."

"They don't have to know. Just slide out and come to me. I'll get you back by dawn." Suddenly he wanted her _here_ , where he could hold her.

Another laugh, but this one sounded a little more natural. "I wish. Jay, you have no idea how much I wish I could. But even if I could, if Derek gets someone to open this door and I'm not here, he'll call the cops. And the way he's hollering right now, he just might. I'm probably in a world of shit right now and I have no idea what we're going to do. We don't need any more publicity. Besides, Jay, you need to stay away from me. _Far_ away."

"No the hell I shouldn't," he shot back, ice crawling up his spine. Now she sounded way too final, and he was too fucking far away to do anything about it. "Like hell, I'm not giving up my close air support _that_ easy."

Kala's voice broke, flat and miserable. "Yeah, you should. Being with me is why you're in trouble right now. I'm like the Midas of shit in things like this, Jay, I ruin everything I touch. Sebast is probably the best example in my history. It'd be better for the world if I just stayed alone. Every single relationship always goes down in flames, and I'm the common denominator. It's me."

That sounded entirely too much like his _own_ thinking on relationships, life, pretty much everything, and Jay spoke forcefully. "No the fuck you aren't, just because your best friend got his panties in a twist that doesn't make you fucking _cursed_. Knock it off, K. You better open a window and fly your ass over here right now before you do something dumb."

She sighed. "I can't … I won't risk you. Fuck, I'm already gonna hafta pay for a rental car for this poor bastard whose car I wrecked. That's part of why Derek's screaming. I think it's a little late for dumb."

"You wrecked a _car_?" Jay asked, wondering if her identity was blown after all.

Another sad laugh, still broken and sharp. "Told you about my temper. He kept getting in my face, I threw his suitcase off the balcony. Pulled it at the last minute so I didn't toss it all the way to Utah, but it landed on some guy's car. Derek's smoothing it all over but _God_ , I've never done anything that _stupid_ before."

"Yeah, you have," was all Jay could think to reply. "You've done _me_."

That had her silent for a beat, but her voice came back a little strong, more defiant. "You're not stupid," she protested. "Jay, you are the absolute furthest from stupid."

"I let myself be filmed kissing a famous rock star," he pointed out. "Come over, K."

"I _can't._ Not tonight. Maybe not for a while," she said softly, but at least she didn't sound quite so ground-down and hopeless and fucked. "I don't know what comes next, Jay. But I don't regret it, I don't regret a minute of the last few months. I'm so sorry."

"I damn sure don't regret it either, even if they do figure me out. Promise me you'll come as soon as you can," he said, his throat tightening.

There was a pause as it sounded like she was fighting to get control of her emotions. "I will," Kala said. "As soon as things even out, I'll get a hold of you. If you're sure you still want me to."

Jay scolded, "Don't be like that. I know damn well what I want. Right now I want you not to have left in the first place, but that's what I get for dating someone who has two jobs. Saving the world and rocking out."

That got him a watery laugh. "More saving _your_ ass than saving the world, but I see what you mean."

"Yeah, well, my ass is a personal stake, y'know? And maybe the world needs it. It's not Dickie-Bird's, but it's a nice ass nonetheless," Jay said, and tried to keep the desperate note out of his joking. He hadn't heard Kala sound so miserable since that nightmare.

Kala scoffed at him. "You're ridiculous."

"So're you. You're a solar-powered Goth girl." The lighter tone was helping; she was in for a serving of bullshit tomorrow, for sure, but it might not be _that_ bad. And she'd get through it, no matter what. All he could do was make her laugh; everything he knew and was and could do meant nothing to the problem she currently faced, so the best he could do was try to ease her sorrow a little.

"Hey, at least I stay appropriately pale, since my body's using sunlight for powers instead of tanning," Kala said, sounding more like her normal self again.

Jay let himself breathe out. "And you've got an advanced degree in lurking on rooftops thanks to Gotham. Really, it was a no-brainer, sending you here to train. Fits your whole theme."

"Plus the locals are so friendly and welcoming," Kala sighed. "Jay … I'll be over there as soon as I can. Tomorrow's going to _suck_. But in a day or two."

"I'll keep an eye out," Jay said, and they ended with lukewarm goodnights. He sighed, putting down the phone. He had one other call to make before it was all said and done, but damn, he needed a minute to shake off the creeping sense of doom. At last he rallied, relying on stubbornness, and let himself hope that it would be all right.

What other choice was there?


	71. Crier Tout Bas

Sebast looked at the teller in disbelief. " _How_ much? Wait, is there some kind of discount?"

"Seniors, active-duty or retired military, and triple-A," the bored young man said. "Got any of those?"

"No," Sebast said, beginning to realize how deeply screwed he was. "Shit, I only have a hundred bucks. How far will that get me?"

The teller glanced at his screen. "Assuming you want to go East … Kansas City."

At least he had friends in Kansas … but no, they were more properly _Kala's_ friends, not to mention her _twin brother_ , and he absolutely didn't want to throw himself on their generosity. He should've gone back for the damn wallet. "Aw hell, I'll take it," he said, defeated. He could probably get his parents to send him enough for the rest of the fare once he got there. There was a Western Union in this bus terminal, there should be one in KC, and his family would be awake by then. He had no idea what he'd _say_ to them, but he'd figure something out. At least he had his driver's license in his phone case instead of his wallet. Without that, he wouldn't even have been able to receive a wire transfer.

Ticket in hand, he picked a hard plastic chair and sat watching the screen that told him he only had fifteen minutes 'til he could line up to board the bus. Sebast couldn't help a self-deprecating chuckle; from rock star on tour to riding the big gray dog, in one night. What a letdown. Then again, from the looks of things, everything he'd thought he'd built his life on was one big lie, anyway.

…

Babs sat back to finish her coffee, listening to Dinah working out in their home gym in the next room. There wasn't much for her songbird to do at the moment. Babs had already inserted the virus into the mobile phones of both the fans who'd taken video and photos of Kala and Jay, and all the original posts on social media. All she had to worry about now was anyone who'd downloaded it in the first hour, before her editing began, and she had alerts set up to catch similar uploads so she could doctor those as well and back-chain the virus onto their phones. She'd already caught five or six on Reddit. Hopefully there wouldn't be _too_ many, and no one who saw the unaltered images would recognize Jason Todd. None of the rampant speculation about who the man was had touched any of the Wayne family, except for Dick, of course, but he'd been photographed two days ago without a beard.

Her phone rang, and she glanced at the caller ID before answering. "You're up early, Jay."

"Yeah, I need a favor," he said in a ragged voice.

Babs could almost feel sorry for him. "Oh? Did you hear about a video of you flipping off an amateur photographer?"

"I didn't know they were filming, I was flipping off the wolf-whistler," he protested. "Wait, you already know?"

She let herself smile. "I'm already on it. Blurring your face in the photos and video."

Jay let out a whooshing sigh of relief. "Thank fucking _God_. Babs, you're the best. You're fucking amazing. Best hacker of all time."

"I am," she chuckled. "Did you see it, or did Kala tell you?"

"She told me," he replied. "Her fucking co-singer saw it, and _he_ recognized me, but he doesn't know she's Blur so we're okay, I hope."

Babs was already pulling files, looking for all electronic devices owned by Sebastiáno Vélez. Looked like he only had one cell phone, and it wasn't showing on the networks so either it had run out of battery, or he'd turned it off. She set up a tracking program masked as system update and aimed it to run as soon as the phone appeared on the network.

Meanwhile, she said, "How did he recognize you? That's quite a leap."

Jay sighed explosively. "Yeah, well, last night wasn't the first time I've heard her sing. I went to her concert in Gotham. _He_ was making eyes at me the whole show."

"You got tickets that close to the stage and didn't invite me? I'm wounded," Babs said, biting back her laughter. Jason Todd, the Red Hood, at a KLK concert. Once things calmed down, she was going to buy him some concert merch just to mess with his mind.

"Bite me. She makes the Goth rocker costume look good."

"That she does," Babs said, and heard him growl.

" _Anyway_. He saw us leave together from that show, and he knew she'd been with the Waynes, so when he recognized me in the video he went digging. And found that stupid charity ball that everybody including Alfred wanted me to go to. Now he knows that KLK's seeing Jason Todd."

Babs added a script to the update that would kick the phone offline if Sebast typed in 'red hood' or 'jason' or 'wayne'. If he went looking for more information, she'd know in time to control his search results. "Let's hope he doesn't connect the dots any further," she said.

"Yeah, let's hope." Jay sighed, and she could hear a scuffling noise as he rubbed a hand over his face. "Fuck, this was dumb. This was the second-dumbest thing I've ever done in my life. I shouldn't have kissed her out in public. _Fuck_."

"Now I'm curious about the first-dumbest," Babs said lightly, and he gave a bark of almost hysterical laughter. Maybe he meant searching for his mother, or trying to kill Bruce; either way, now was not the time. She decided to get him back on track. "Since you spoke to K, how is she?"

"Not good. Scared. Heartbroken. Pretty sure she just lost her best friend 'cause her dumbass partner decided to fly out and see her without calling first. Shit, I just wanted to _surprise_ her."

His bleak tone made it hard for her to stay angry with him, though it _had_ been a serious breach. And Sebast was now a loose end that she'd have to keep track of. And Jay _still_ hadn't admitted he was in love with Kala, no matter how plain it was to everyone else. This also wasn't the time for that, and she wasn't the person to give the lecture. Dinah would give her such a _look_. "You had the best of intentions. You both just screwed up. It happens to everyone."

"Not like this. Fuck. I could've blown Big Blue's identity sky-high." He sighed. "I owe you one, Babs."

"Yes, you do, Jay. Big time."

"Whatever you want, it's yours," he responded. "You want me to take you both to dinner at that place where they put gold leaf on their surf and turf? I'm down. I'll even wear a jacket."

"Duly noted, but that's not even close to payback," Babs informed him. "I was on this before you even knew about it. And it _was_ pretty careless, Jay. I know you're not stupid, or anywhere near as reckless as you like people to think. Neither is she."

"No, I was fucking distracted, and far enough from home that I thought I was safely anonymous," he grumbled. "I forgot for two minutes that she's a fucking _rock star_ and her fans are everywhere."

"Ninety-four seconds," Babs said, quoting the run time of the video. "I think we're going to be okay. So far no one suspects it's you. The hypothesizing is mostly split between a couple of actors, neither of whom was even in Denver last night."

"Name your price, then," Jay said. "You're right, I owe you."

"I want you to talk to Bruce," she said.

Silence, from his end, then a very quiet, "Fuck. He doesn't know already?"

She shrugged. "He might. They call him the world's greatest detective for a reason. But if he does, he hasn't told me. You don't have to do it right now, they're all probably in bed still. Just, sometime today, go over there and talk to him. Before he comes to talk to you."

"I'm gonna get my ass chewed off," Jay said morosely.

"Bruce has no room to talk about relationships," Babs reminded him. "It won't be as bad as you think. Especially not if you're upfront about it."

"Yeah, but he's still gonna bust my balls for it," Jay muttered. "We were stupid to think we could keep this under wraps. She's _literally_ famous."

And Babs asked in as casual a tone as she could muster, "Well, that ship has sailed. I guess the only thing to decide is whether to keep seeing her now that you don't have the special joy of putting one over on the whole caped community."

His reaction was exactly what she'd hoped for, sheer disbelief tinged with anger. "Are you fucking kidding me? Like I'd let her go. She's damn near perfect in the field, if I can just stop her from diving into trouble faster than I can fucking _see_. No way am I gonna throw that away."

Smiling, Babs said, "I was talking about your relationship, not your partnership. Unless you've got work and play so bound up…"

"Bite me," Jay growled. "I wasn't gonna get _specific_ , but the sex is too damn good to pass up, too. I've fucked my share of ridiculously hot women, and she's stellar. Literally. I swear she tastes like sunlight."

Babs laughed loudly enough that Dinah heard, and came to check on her. "In that case, I'm sorry I passed on my chance to confirm that," she told Jay. Dinah just shook her head at the laughing tone.

"Step off," he shot back. "She might swing that way, but I'm not sharing."

"Easy, Jay, I'm not trying to steal your girl," Babs told him, as Dinah rolled her eyes. "Just making sure she _is_ your girl, and you're not just in this for the thrills."

"For someone who doesn't have one, you're such a dick," he complained.

Smiling, Babs told him, "I'm looking out for you. You'll appreciate it someday."

"Y'know, you and Bruce are just the same that way," Jay grumbled. "All that high and mighty 'father knows best' bullshit gets real old, real quick."

"We're just trying to share our hard-earned good judgment," Babs told him. "You know what they say. Good judgment comes from experience. And experience comes from bad judgment."

"Yeah, yeah, so what's your advice on relationships? Don't date Dick Grayson?" Jay prodded.

"Find someone who cares about you as much as you care about them, hold on tight, and don't be afraid to let them know how much they mean to you," Babs replied, answering his jibe seriously. Beside her, Dinah put a hand on her shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. For her own sake, and Jay's, she added, "If she looks great in fishnets, that's a bonus."

Jay laughed. "I like that. You can't exactly cross-stitch it on a sampler, but I like it. Fine. Thanks, Babs. I'm gonna go get some sleep, and I guess I'll see the big bad Bat tonight and tell him I've been sleeping with his best friend's daughter."

"Good luck," Babs said, and broke the connection.

Dinah sighed. "You really think they're gonna get away with this?"

"I think they're gonna try; at least he is. Isn't that the best that anyone can do?" Babs asked, looking up at her.

"Speaking as someone who had to run Oracle to ground, and then crack the armor you had on your heart, _yes_ ," Dinah replied. "But then, some of us don't know how to do anything else."

"You certainly never learned how to quit," Babs said with a fond smile. "And if I haven't told you lately – I'm the better for it."

Dinah bent and kissed her hair. Anyone else would've made a joke then, something about dating their boss maybe, but Dinah was comfortable with that kind of emotional intimacy. Which made her far more precious to Babs than even Dinah knew.

…

Sebast had discovered, on the long bus journey, that he'd also left his charger in the hotel room. With only ten bucks left after buying his ticket, he'd decided against stepping off the bus to pick up a new one, just turning his phone off until they got close to Kansas. The ten dollars went to a cup of black coffee and the worst turkey sandwich he'd ever eaten, purchased at a convenience store.

Staring out the window for that whole ride with no phone to distract him hadn't been good for his state of mind, either. Sebast had begun to feel like he was making a terrible mistake, like he should've stayed and forced the truth out of Kala somehow. But the way she'd looked at him … her eyes had been full of rage, and barely-restrained violence. When the hell had she changed so much?

He'd like to blame it all on the new guy, but that'd be too easy. People just didn't change that drastically in a relationship. When he'd been with Javier, he'd still been an irrepressible flirt, even if he'd constrained himself to fidelity. And as it turned out, Javier had still been a cheater despite being in a relationship with a man way too good for him.

An hour out from Kansas City, he switched the phone on. The first thing he looked for was how much a ticket from Kansas City to Metropolis would cost, and there he got a bad shock. It was the same price as Denver to Metropolis! Well, okay, ten bucks cheaper, but still. It felt as if he hadn't made any progress at all, despite the hours on the bus.

His parents were out, then. Sebast would rather hitchhike than ask his dad for a hundred and fifty bucks, plus whatever it cost to send the money to him. He'd get a lecture about how reckless and stupid his choice of career was, and why hadn't he gone to school for something _useful_ , this singing thing was always gonna let him down and his father had always known it, and so on and so forth. Telling his dad he had the money in his savings account wouldn't help, because explaining that he'd left his wallet behind would just get him another lecture on irresponsibility. Sebast decided he'd try his brother. Mikey could send him the money, knowing he'd get it back.

Now Sebast wished he'd gotten an account at the big national bank, instead of a local credit union. He could've gone to a branch out here. As it was, all his money was just laughing at him. Without his debit card, he couldn't touch it. He had _plane fare_ in his checking account, but couldn't get it!

He also felt foolish for not keeping his debit or his credit in his phone case. Just having his ID there warped the case a little, and more cards might've made it not fit. He _liked_ that case, but it felt so stupid now. Sebast had always assumed that a hundred bucks and his ID was enough to scrape by, so he stored it in the one place he'd never lose, and before today the only times he'd ever had to dip into the emergency fund was to buy gas, way back when they drove their own vehicles on tour.

Sebast sighed, and called his brother. "Hey, Mikey," he said quietly.

"Hey! What's up, big bro?" The response came with all of Mikey's usual sunny disposition, and for a moment Sebast wanted to weep. He _missed_ his goofy little brother.

"I need some help," he admitted. "Look, I'm almost in Kansas City. I need you to wire me enough money to get home. It's okay if you don't have plane fare, I'll take the bus, but I gotta buy a phone charger, too. My battery's almost dead."

"What happened? You guys are supposed to be in Salt Lake City tomorrow. Where's Kala?"

Flinching, Sebast couldn't help the growl in his voice. "Kala's off fucking this guy she met, probably. She's been lying to me for months, Mikey, that's what's been different with her. And I'm through with it. I tried to call her on it, and she threw me out. So I'm out. Of the band, of her life, all of it. Fuck her."

"Damn." Mikey sounded as stunned as Sebast had felt.

He ignored the way his eyes stung. "Yeah, well, I walked out in a hurry and left my wallet. So I had enough cash for bus fare here, but I'm stuck. I've got a dollar and thirty-eight cents in my pocket, no way to get the rest of my money. I can pay you back once I get home, I've got it in my bank account."

"Sebastiáno … I can't."

Sighing heavily, Sebast repeated, "You know I'm gonna pay you back. It's only like a hundred and fifty."

"Yeah, but I don't have it," Mikey said, his voice nervous. "The new World of Warcraft expansion pack came out two days ago, and I…"

"You fucking spent a hundred and fifty dollars on a fucking video game?" Sebast growled.

"It was only sixty!" Mikey complained. And then, falteringly, "Plus another forty for upgrades. You can't fight the lich king without special armor or he eats your soul…"

"I'm gonna eat your fucking dumb bitch soul," Sebast ground out. "You think that time I taped you to a ceiling fan was bad, you idiot. I've _never_ asked you for money, not even once, all those times I bought you ice pops and you promised you'd pay me back and you never did, I finally need you and you're out there fighting a bunch of fucking pixels."

"I didn't know!" Mikey yelped. "I have like sixty bucks, you can have that."

"It's gonna cost twenty to send it Western Union, you moron, and sixty bucks won't get me out of the Midwest," Sebast said brusquely. "Shit, I spent eighty-seven to get from Denver to Kansas City, and the price to Metropolis is only ten bucks cheaper from here!"

"You wanna talk to Papi?" Mikey asked.

"No, I'd sooner go suck some dick for cash than do _that_ ," Sebast spat, and heard Mikey wince.

He forced himself to calm down. "It won't come to that. Mikey … you didn't know. And I'm the _pendejo_ who left his wallet."

"I'm sorry," Mikey said. "Hey, if you're in Kansas … no, that's her brother."

"Yeah. He is." A thought occurred, and Sebast perked up a little. "But Jason's not the only person I know in Kansas. Lemme make some calls, _mano_. I'll let you know, all right?"

"Be safe," Mikey said worriedly.

Sebast looked at his phone. The battery display wasn't red yet, but he needed to be careful. At least there was one person in Kansas who might help him.

…

As the news broke, a series of increasingly astounded phone calls were made. Bruce only asked Oracle if she had the possible identity breach under control; she said yes, and heard nothing else from him. Which might've meant that he'd known all along, or that he wanted her to think that, or simply that he knew he had no standing in which to criticize.

Dick called in a state of near panic. "What the hell, Babs? That's _Jay!_ I mean the footage is all blurry but that's Jay. He just came out from deep cover!"

"And he didn't even bother to shave before he went to see her," Babs said. "It's rather romantic in its way."

" _Romantic?!_ Babs, Jay and Kala are hooking up! When the heck did this happen? Why didn't we see it?"

"They didn't want us to," Babs replied. "As for when … let's just say he had a very happy birthday."

"Since _August?!_ Oh my God." He muttered something under his breath that she didn't quite catch, then came back with, "Okay, okay, fine. I kept hoping he'd make a move but … oh my _God_. How long have you known?"

"Since the beginning. They got into an argument with their comms on." And that was all Babs would tell him on _that_ score.

"God. No wonder he's been all … happy and calm for a while. Well, happy and calm for Jay, anyway. Also explains why he's been grinning like he had a secret from everyone."

"Getting laid regularly will do that to a person," Babs commented.

"Shut up. _Anyway_. I assume you're on top of the identity issue?"

"I am. Why do you think the footage is blurry? Fear not, Big Sister has the situation under control."

Dick sighed. "You know, there were times when I thought you were too controlling. Now, I think I'm glad that you think of everything and poke your nose everywhere. There's no one else I'd trust monitoring my alarm system."

"Thank you," Babs said. "I have your best interest at heart, I promise."

A pause, and then he said, "Does her family know?"

"Not yet," Babs replied. "Not that I've heard, anyway. And we're not gonna be the ones to tell them."

…

The elevator dinged, Lois walked into City, and every eye in the place turned toward her. For a single wild second it was like those occasional nightmares everyone had, about forgetting to put on clothes before going in to work. The way they all looked at her…

No, her armor was in place, pinstripe suit and heels and makeup, so Lois raised her chin and looked back defiantly. "Well? What's going on, people?"

Most dropped their gazes, embarrassed, but Bill sighed and stepped toward her, his phone out. "Kala's all over the gossip rags," he said apologetically. "Have you seen it yet?"

"Oh, God, what did my Goth Tinkerbell do now?" Lois groaned.

"Some guy in Denver," a voice said, and her hackles went up. The heckler wisely shut his mouth.

Even as Bill showed her his phone, and a series of photos followed by a video of Kala kissing some guy with a beard, she retorted, "So my daughter kissed a boy. Wooo, big deal. How is this _news_?"

Bill sighed again. "There's rumors her best friend walked out of the band over it. And nobody can figure out who the guy is."

Lois' head came up sharply. That was enough to make her do a double-take. What on earth was going on with the kids that there was even a possibility that Sebast could have _walked out_? Oh, something was definitely wrong here. And why hadn't she heard from Kala about this? The answer was an easy one, really. Hell, she was probably still curled up crying over it. Lois herself was a little amazed by this turn of events. The pair of them had been attached at the hip for years, Sebast practically one of their own by now. What the hell _happened_? Was this really all over a _boy_?

Clark had arrived in the middle of that, and looked over her shoulder. She was about to draw him aside, planning to ask him to fly over and check on their baby, all while planning damage control on this … but she felt Clark go very still, as only he could. As if he were the only solid thing in a fragile world.

"Clark?" she said, looking over her shoulder at him.

He let out a sigh. "We're going to have to sort out how much we cover. You want to talk about it in your office, or mine?"

Things were not good, but the look on her husband's face did little to quell her whirling mind. Yep, that look did not bode well. There was something she was missing. "How 'bout the roof? I need a cigarette," Lois said, not missing her cue.

"The roof's fine, but you're not smoking," he replied, confirming exactly what she suspected. "You quit for good seven years ago."

That started a familiar argument that everyone around them tuned out, and Clark cited lung cancer statistics all the way back to the elevator. Only once it dinged shut – on them alone, no one wanted to ride with the quarreling editors – did they break off, Lois sighing. And she'd been worried that it was going to be a slow news day. Nothing like a riot in your personal life to keep things lively. "Okay, so how do we fix this? Sounds like Sebast _left_. Which makes absolutely no sense to me. I get walking it off, but since when have they ever had that kind of fight? This doesn't seem like our boy."

"We'll look into it afterward, but, Lois, we have bigger problems than Sebast," Clark told her. "The guy she's kissing? Despite the beard, I recognize him. That's Jason Todd."

For a moment, Lois could only stare up at him in disbelief that rounded her eyes, trying to process what she'd just been told. There might have been a few silly reasons for the kids to be fighting. That … that had not been what she had been expecting. It took a moment, but she remembered when Kala had first come home, talking about her training, about how she'd switched programs about a month in. About her first sessions with the same man. Oh God, what had Kala been thinking? Lois swore pungently, piecing it all together. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me. Okay, _now_ I need a cigarette and a shot of vodka. _Shit_."

"She's a big girl," Clark said. "We have to trust her to know what she's doing."

That she could do, sure, if her daughter wasn't being a headstrong idiot. Too well, she could hear herself three months ago, after they had discussed that poor kid that Kala had managed to save. _As dark as it can possibly get, and you see the light in it. The light you brought_. In all the dark and gloom of Gotham, there were more than a few that couldn't see beyond the shadows. One had been broken in more ways than one, more ways than the rest. Oh, shit, what had they been thinking, sending Kala there? "And what she's doing has been Red Hood," Lois said, in stunned tones. "Fucking _hell_ , of all of them, she had to pick that one. She just couldn't resist, could she? Jesus, I'd grown out of my bad boy phase by her age!"

"Lois…"

"I thought Nick was the worst we'd have to deal with! Now she goes and hooks up with Bruce's wild child! Goddammit, Clark. And with all the issues she's still fighting with?" A thought occurred to her then, and Lois looked up at him darkly, working into a fine fury. "Why the fuck didn't Bruce tell us? Probably because he knows I would have killed his trust-fund ass."

"He might not have known," Clark said gently. "I doubt either of them would tell him."

"That's because at least one of them might have some sense. World's Greatest Detective, my ass," Lois growled in frustration. "And Kala … I'm gonna spike all our leftovers with cilantro so she starves. She came home and told us all about how she trained and how she crossed Joker and met Talia fucking al Ghul, but she just _happened_ to forget to mention that she was learning a little more than Meta-Human Ass-Kicking 101 with Jason Todd. Sneaky little…"

"She's her mother's daughter, all right," Clark said, and by the time they reached the roof she was safely yelling at _him_ instead of about Kala.

…

Dustin was watching oil drain when his phone rang. He stripped off his gloves and wiped his hands on a clean rag before answering it. "Carmichael's Garage, how can I help you?" Even though this was his personal cell, a number of his customers called there instead of the shop line.

"Hey, cowboy, it's Sebast." For a moment he didn't believe it, the voice on the other end sounded too tired and discouraged.

Dustin frowned. "Sebast? You okay? You sound like hell. Is everything all right?"

The dispirited laugh he got in response chilled him. "No, I'm not, and no, it isn't. Look, I need a favor, and you're basically my last chance, okay?"

"What do you need? I'll be right on it." Last he heard, the tour was out west somewhere about now. He had a credit card he rarely used, he could get a plane ticket, get Wade and the new guy to look after the garage for a while.

"I'm on my way to the Kansas City bus station. I need a hundred and fifty dollars to get back to Metropolis. Plus the fees from Western Union. And since I'm already asking a lot, maybe ten bucks to buy a phone charger?"

God, he sounded so _defeated._ Dustin wouldn't have believed it of Sebast, who was always up and almost annoyingly energetic, quick with a joke or a comeback or a playful roast. But as his request sunk in, Dustin got even more worried. "Wait, you're in KC? I thought you guys were in Utah or something. Where's Kala? What happened?"

"Kala's probably on her way to Utah," Sebast said. "I … shit, I don't even know who fucked up worse. We had a fight, she kicked me out of the room, I kicked myself outta the band, and then I left my damn wallet on the bus so I could only afford a bus ticket this far. I'm stranded. I need to get back home. I can pay you back once I get to Metropolis, but right now I don't even have two bucks for a cup of coffee."

"You're at the Greyhound bus station?" Dustin asked.

"Not yet, I'm still on the bus headed there. We should pull up in about forty minutes or so. They have a Western Union there, if you can wire me…"

"I can do a little better than just wiring you cash," Dustin said. "I'm on my way, it'll take me an hour to get there. Have you eaten yet?"

He laughed bitterly. "I had a sandwich from a gas station. If that was turkey, then I'm Rihanna."

"Fine. I'm coming. We'll have lunch, and I'll put you on a plane to Metropolis." Even as he spoke, Dustin was striding into the office, catching Wade's attention. He cupped the phone's mic to say to his brother, "Wade, I gotta go. It's gonna be a couple hours. Can you hold down the fort?"

"Sure. Everything okay?" Wade asked, worried.

"Dunno yet. Nobody's bleeding. It's Kala and Sebast, though." That was all he needed to say, and Wade nodded. Dustin continued, "I've got that Chevy draining, it needs five quarts of 10w30, a new oil filter, and stick a new air filter in but don't charge her, okay? Her kid just got braces. Tell her we had one in an open box we can't sell."

Wade shook his head. "That's my brother, saving the day. I've got it. You go take care of them."

Dustin nodded, trotting out to his truck. "Sebast? I'm on my way."

"You don't have to," Sebast began, his voice trembling.

"Yeah I do. You're family, too."

"Thanks," Sebast whispered, and either hung up or lost his signal.

Not that it mattered. Dustin had never heard him that hurt. And never imagined that he and Kala would ever really _fight,_ beyond their friendly bickering. Something was really, really wrong, and if he could do anything to fix it, he would.

…

Sebast felt like a shadow of himself, waiting at the bus station with a dead phone and a day's worth of beard, in clothes he'd worn last night. Serious worries had started to set in. He'd broken his contract with the label, and that meant he wasn't going to be getting any residuals from this tour. Hell, he might even end up owing them money.

He was going to have to get a job. He'd have to re-read his contract, but he might not be able to sing professionally, at least not for a couple years. So it'd have to be a normal job, waiting tables or working retail or something. At least there was money in his savings account.

And he had a house to go to … a house he co-owned with Kala. Sebast frowned; hell, he couldn't stay there. He'd have to go back to his parents' place. Even though he was pretty sure Kala wouldn't hire someone to change the locks, he couldn't sit in the house where everything from the color of the walls to the books on the shelves reminded him that they'd picked it all out _together_.

He damn sure couldn't sleep in the master bedroom, either.

His painful reverie was interrupted by Dustin's arrival in a big blue pickup truck, and Sebast felt pathetically glad to see him. He stood up from the bench, and pulled his suitcase along as he hurried to the truck.

Dustin leaned across to open the door, and Sebast put his suitcase in behind the seats, then clambered up. "Thanks, man," he said gratefully. "I'll pay you back, I promise."

"I'm not worried about it," Dustin told him. "Let's head for the airport, we can buy your ticket and eat lunch while we're waiting."

"The bus would've been fine," Sebast said, buckling his seat belt.

Dustin fixed him with a stern glare. "Nope. It's too damn long a ride. And the plane fare's not _that_ much more, anyway."

As he pulled away from the curb, Sebast let his head fall back against the seat and heaved a sigh. He felt, for the first time since his suitcase had gone sailing over the balcony, like the ground under him was solid again. "Seriously, Dustin. Thank you."

"You're welcome. You did the same for me, once upon a time."

"Nah, that was totally self-serving, I just paid your plane fare so you could come cheer up…" Sebast trailed off. He'd been about to say his co-singer, but he was pretty sure he wasn't in the band anymore. By now the label would've cut him off for this little stunt.

"Phone charger's in the glove box," Dustin said mildly. "So, it's that bad?"

"Yeah," Sebast whispered, and busied himself getting out the charger and plugging it in and hooking up his phone.

Dustin wouldn't push for details, that wasn't his way, but the guy was helping him out and he cared about Sebast and Kala both. He didn't _need_ to push, Sebast needed someone to talk to anyway, and telling him the whole sad sordid story felt like a partial repayment on this very large favor. "So yeah. Kala and I … it's been _weird_. Ever since the summer. No, even before that, but the summer made it worse."

"She went to Gotham over the summer to do all that promotion with the Wayne family," Dustin said.

Sebast gave a bitter laugh. _Promotion. That's what we're calling it now._ "Yeah. Y'know she and I haven't been apart that long since about senior year? She's come on family vacations with me, I've gone on vacations with her family, we hang out all the time. The longest we've been apart in years was the two weeks she went to this women's seminar thing, a couple years back. And then the summer, she was gone all the time, she barely answered her phone … fuck, I missed her."

"Course you did," Dustin said agreeably. "Nothing weird about that. You two are practically joined at the hip."

Sebast scoffed. "Well, thank you for not saying 'practically married' like everyone else."

"That, too," Dustin said. He turned with a slight smile, but Sebast just glowered, and Dustin's eyebrows went up. "Sorry. Didn't realize that was a sore point."

Sebast decided fuck it, he'd throw all his cards on the table. The smart, cynical part of him said wait until the plane ticket was purchased, but his pain and anger had grabbed hold of his tongue before his brain made a decision. "Yeah, it is. Pretty much has been ever since we had sex."

Dustin went still for a minute, and _then_ Sebast had time to regret his own stupidity. Liv notwithstanding, Dustin still very much loved Kala. All he said was, "So you finally got around to it."

At that, Sebast's weary temper exploded. "Man, _fuck you_ and everybody else with that shit! Is it that fucking hard to believe a guy and a girl can be friends? Especially when one of them is gay?! That we can be close and _not_ be fucking?!"

Fortunately, Dustin didn't take offense. "They can … but you two are pretty darn possessive of each other. I got the hairy eyeball from you a time or two when _I_ was sleeping with her. And I was her boyfriend. I was the one who was _supposed_ to be sleeping with her."

"Yeah, yeah, fuck you anyway," Sebast grumbled.

"Might do you good," Dustin opined, getting a shocked look from Sebast. He grinned. "Might help you figure out what's goin' on in your head right now. That's why you're so snappy, isn't it?"

"Oh spare me the country wisdom," Sebast finally said.

"Here's the thing," Dustin continued. "I'm pretty sure I'm not gay. Spending some time around you, a guy has to wonder what that's like. Cause you usually seem to be having a helluva lotta fun. And most guys out there act like if you even hug another man and don't say 'no homo', your truck'll turn into a Prius overnight. If it's that contagious, maybe y'all know something we don't."

Sebast could only blink. "You're hella freaking me out here."

"This is what happens when a country boy runs around with a bisexual, a metrosexual, a gay dude, and whatever you call Ned and Robb," Dustin said, laughing. "Makes you think about life. Now like I said, I'm pretty sure I'm not gay. You're a good-looking guy, but the idea of kissing you is still gross to me. So I'm comfortably on the straight side of the spectrum."

"Okay," Sebast said.

Dustin nodded. "But see, Kala told me this one time, the guys out there screeching 'no homo' if they look at another dude? The ones hollerin' about the gays are gonna destroy the whole world, it's so evil and sinful and wrong? They're always the ones that get caught with like a teenage gay hooker, a few years down the line. It's denial. A real man doesn't have to run around _telling_ you he's a man, or shouting to the world that he's not a woman. A real man just _is_. I guess it's the same way, if you're really straight. You don't gotta tell people, 'cause you just know."

"You going somewhere with this, Mr. Straight Pride?" Sebast asked cagily.

"Well, kinda, so don't start that crap," Dustin said. "Now it's different for gay people, I know. Other folks are so busy stampin' on you your whole life, you gotta stand up and shout just to keep their boots off you. It's not really the same. But Sebast, you get _real_ twitchy whenever someone says anything about you and Kala. I gotta wonder if there's some denial goin' on there. So telling me you slept together, that ain't a surprise."

Sebast just scoffed, looking out the window. In the reflection of the windshield, he saw Dustin glance at him before looking back at the road. "It's an identity thing, I guess. Figuring out who you are, that's hard for everyone. I bet it's harder if you have to fight people just to get them to agree that you should be allowed to exist. So finding out something that challenges your own idea of who you are, after you've done all that fighting for it? That's gotta be scary. And you've hung out with Kala long enough, it doesn't surprise me that you react to scary stuff like she does: run right at it, swinging."

Slowly, Sebast said, "I thought I was gonna be the one to say stuff like this to you."

"I know you," Dustin replied. "I know her. And I'd have to be blind, deaf, and dumb not to realize you love her as much as I do, and she loves you, too. _How_ exactly you love her, well, that's for you and her to figure out. But if you slept together, I guess you're trying to do that."

"You ever thought about becoming a therapist instead of a mechanic?" Sebast asked.

"Nah, too much paperwork," Dustin said easily. "You gonna face up and talk about this, or just keep talking around it?"

Sebast gave a snort of laughter. "Okay, yeah, fine. I love her. _How_ is still up in the air, but I love her. And shit, she's never been that good at relationships. I was thinking, with how much I missed her over the summer, maybe we ought to go somewhere with this. Somewhere like … I'm gay except for her, or something like that. I mean, lots of people have that, they're straight but they'd go gay for one person, right?"

Dustin thought about it, then shrugged. "Maybe. Not me, but I've heard that before. All right, then, so you were thinking about makin' a move. How'd you end up here?"

Sighing, Sebast let his head fall back against the seat again. "I'm a dumbass. I waited too fuckin' long. You seen the news yet?"

"No, what's on the news?" Dustin asked.

"Kala and her boyfriend making out. She snuck out to a club last night while we were all asleep, and he met her there. She didn't even notice a couple fans were taking pictures, _and video_ , she was so wrapped up in kissing him." Sebast heard the bitterness in his own voice, but was powerless to stop it.

"Oh, shit," Dustin muttered.

"She's been real cagey about where she's going and what she's doing ever since the summer. I mean, Kala's never gone out whoring like I do, that's not her style, so we were all wondering what was up. And she wouldn't say anything even when we asked her. Shit, the numb fuck manager we got stuck with thought she was on _drugs_."

Dustin barked laughter at that. "Kala? No way. That's ridiculous."

"She was almost late to rehearsal!" Sebast told him. "That's not like her, either. When we played Gotham, she ran off with some guy from the third row – a guy I had _my_ eye on, mind you. Sexy eyes, nice broad shoulders, real fit and toned-looking, a mouth I could definitely picture wrapped around my dick. The works."

"Yep, still pretty much gay," Dustin laughed. "'Cause none of that sounds good to me at _all_."

"You're just a Philistine," Sebast replied, managing a rusty chuckle. "Anyway, we all _finally_ got her to admit she'd slept with him, and he wasn't just a random groupie, she knew the guy. He's someone she met in Gotham, someone she's been seeing for a while. But she didn't say it was an ongoing thing, or anything serious. He flew out to Denver to see her, doesn't that sound serious to you?"

"Yeah, that does," Dustin said, in a tone that reminded Sebast how Dustin had flown out to join the band. "How come she won't talk about him?"

Sebast laughed bitterly. He didn't want to tell Dustin everything – the Waynes probably had a bunch of very expensive lawyers, and Kala might just have signed a non-disclosure agreement or something equally stupid. "I'm not sure. But I figured out who he really is, and Dustin, she's been lying her ass off. When I got in her face about it was when things went sideways. After that, it was all over but the yelling. Now here I am, no job, no band, probably gonna get sued for breach of contract, and my best friend hates my guts."

"She doesn't _hate_ you," Dustin began.

"Tell that to the suitcase she chucked over the balcony. Pretty sure I'm not welcome. And with all this lying and secrets and bullshit, I don't even know if I wanna go back." Sebast bonked his head against the seat again. "I screwed it all up. I shoulda said something when we slept together. I was too fuckin' scared of what it might mean, and she was tryin' so hard to act like nothing happened, I thought it'd be better if we just … pretended it hadn't. Then she met this guy and I didn't even know it was happening, she was slipping away from me this whole time, never even admitting there was someone else. And now … now, 'cause I tried to call her on it, now I lost her."

To his mortification, Sebast's voice broke on the end of that.

…

Dustin let Sebast ramble on miserably, all why trying to figure out what he wasn't saying. He talked like he knew who the guy was, and knowing Sebast, jealousy and anger should've had him cursing the guy's name and his whole family. That he studiously avoided saying a name was intriguing; probably this guy was someone Dustin would know, too. Or at least someone he could find with Google.

It didn't matter; the video was out there, he'd be able to find it. All that mattered now was making sure Sebast was okay. They arrived at the airport to find that the next flight to Metropolis left in an hour, barely time to grab food and get to the gate. Sebast chugged the last of his soda just before the security line, and looked at Dustin. "Thank you again. You really didn't have to do this."

"You're my friend. You're basically family," Dustin said staunchly, and then pulled him into a hug. The other man held on for a long moment, and Dustin could feel the tension of him trying not to break down.

When they stepped apart, Dustin caught his arms and looked at him sternly. "You'll work this out," he said. "You and Kala have known each other too long to throw it all away over some guy."

Sebast barked a laugh. "He's not just 'some guy'. Whether I like it or not, he's _her_ guy now."

"Yeah, and you're not just 'some singer' either," Dustin reminded him. "It's gonna be okay. Take a breather, figure yourselves out. You might not be able to be with her, Sebast, but I couldn't either. And I'm still her friend. Always will be. Love doesn't just disappear, sometimes it changes, sometimes it _has_ to change, but that doesn't mean it's gone."

"Sometimes it turns into hate," Sebast said bleakly. "I'd break Javier's nose if I could. I thought I loved him, but the bastard was cheating on me _and_ giving me shit 'cause he thought I was cheating on him. With Kala, so … big surprise there."

Dustin shook his head. "She doesn't hate you. And you don't hate her. It'll work out. You both just need time. Go home, Sebast, get some rest, get some breathing room away from all this. But _whatever_ happens, don't forget you've got friends in Smallville, okay? I met you because of Kala, but you're my friend, too."

Sebast's throat worked as he tried to maintain his composure. "Thanks. You're a better friend than I deserve. I'll get the money back to you."

"I told you I'm not worried about it," Dustin chided him, though his credit card was now a lot closer to the maximum than he liked.

Sebast clapped his shoulder. "See you later, cowboy."

"See you later, rock star," Dustin laughed, and watched him walk away. The security line took him behind reinforced glass, and Dustin sighed, shaking his head a little at the complexities of the human heart, and all the trouble love could get a man into.

"Excuse me," a hesitant voice said, and he turned to see a young woman he didn't recognize. She smiled shyly, and continued, "I just wanted to say … y'know, that's real brave. You're an inspiration."

Dustin cocked his head, confused. "'Cause I bought my friend a plane ticket?"

She blushed. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you weren't out. Sure, yeah, your _friend_. Right."

When it dawned on him, Dustin laughed. "Ma'am, he's not my boyfriend, but I'm darn sure gonna tell him someone thought so. He could use the laugh."

That made her blush even more. "Ohmigod I'm so sorry!"

"Nah, it's fine," Dustin chuckled. "I needed the laugh, too. We're just friends; we dated the same girl. You have a nice day, ma'am."

She skittered off, clearly embarrassed, and he chuckled all the way back to his truck. He'd tell Sebast about the encounter, all right.

But first, he needed to call Jason, and see what he knew about his sister's new beau.


	72. Shout It from the Rooftops

Kala's phone rang, and she ignored it, still huddling in a little ball of misery in the middle of the too-large hotel bed. A moment later, it chirped to let her know that she had a voicemail. And then, another buzz for an incoming text. She ignored it all; none of those had been Sebast's ringtone or vibration pattern, and he and Jay were the only people she cared to hear from.

Then the hotel room phone rang, and Kala groaned, tugging the pillow over her head. It rang four times, left a voicemail, then her cell buzzed again. Grumbling, Kala snatched at her cell phone, meaning to block the caller.

It was Jenna, her agent. Dammit, she had known this was going to happen, but she hadn't wanted to deal with it so soon. _Shit_. Taking a deep breath, she answered it. "Kala here," she said miserably.

"Kala, hey, it's Jenna," the agent began. "What's up? I'm seeing and hearing a bunch of crazy stuff."

She was the first one to _ask_ what was going on instead of assuming, and Kala almost broke down in tears at that. But … Jenna worked for the label, and she couldn't forget that. This wasn't a friend calling to check on her, it was part of Jenna's job to _manage_ her.

So she let out a shaky laugh, and said, "It's probably mostly true. Sebast and I just had a big argument, and he walked out. I mean, I told him to get out, but I meant out of the _room_ , not out of the _band_. I think … I'm pretty sure he's gone. That sounded pretty damn final."

"Oh, boy," Jenna said, and sighed into the phone. "Have you tried talking to him?"

The mere thought of trying to talk to him right now chilled her blood. Anything they had to say to each other this soon would probably just make it worse, though it didn't seem possible. "No," Kala replied honestly with a sigh of her own. "But from the yelling I heard in the hallway last night, he's blocked everyone's numbers, so it wouldn't do any good, anyway."

Jenna paused. "No one on our end has been able to reach him. Do you have any other number, besides his cell phone?"

Kala knew his parents' number, but she wasn't going to turn the label loose on his family. They might not even know anything was wrong, yet. "Sorry, I wish I could help you out," she replied. "It's not exactly like we're at home. He's definitely not going to answer at the house."

"Well, we'll keep trying to reach him," Jenna said, sounding rather forced. "If he's willing to come back, will you sing with him?"

The question was enough to have her blinking in surprise. That hadn't even occurred to Kala yet. She and Sebast needed to talk, but the idea that _she_ might refuse to sing with him? That she might give up doing the one thing that had always been perfect between them? It seemed ridiculous.

But she knew Sebast, and his temper was a lot like hers, loud and flashy. Neither of them were very good at bottling up their feelings. If he walked back in right now, would she be willing to sing with him despite the things they'd said to each other last night?

She … she didn't know. For the first time in years, Kala didn't immediately know the answer.

She closed her eyes, feeling the ache in her heart where Sebast had always been. "He's the one who left," she said plaintively. "We don't even know if he'll come back."

"Let us work on that," Jenna soothed. "I just need to know if there's even a point in asking. If you two can't work together at all, well … the band's called KLK, not SNV. We'll make it work."

That made her wince. "That's not fair, Jenna. He's been here from the start, before there even _was_ a band. We picked my initials because they sound good, not because I'm more important than him. I can't just shut him out because he threw a fit over my boyfriend." And even referring to Jay – _Jason Todd,_ Red Hood – as her boyfriend felt surreal and odd when applied to them. _Boyfriend_ sounded so high school. It was completely inadequate to what they meant to one another.

"Well, that sounds like you do want him back," Jenna said cautiously.

Kala heaved another sigh. "I do, but … his problem is with the guy, and I'm not willing to give that up. We … I guess we need some time apart, and then we need to talk. But no, I never wanted him _gone_. I just wanted him to get out of my room and stop screaming in my face."

"Okay. We can work with that." Jenna's voice was reassuring, even if Kala was reminded again she was being managed. "You don't worry about a thing. We can keep the show rolling with just you, or we can bring in someone else to sing his lines."

"How are you gonna keep the tour going when one of the headliners is gone?" Kala asked, frowning.

Jenna answered lightly, "Like I said, the band's called KLK. The tickets don't say that _both_ of you will be there, just that the band known as KLK will be. Now if _you_ left we'd have issues, with you being KLK. I mean, you can't put on Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers without Tom Petty. But we should be all right, the ticket sales are already strong through the end of the tour, we won't lose too much revenue."

That was too damn cynical for Kala. She rubbed her forehead, trying to ease the headache gnawing at the inside of her skull. "What the hell are we gonna tell the fans?"

" _You're_ not going to tell the fans anything," Jenna said immediately. "We pay a PR firm for a reason. Don't worry about a thing, Kala. Just get through the next show. It's not that long before the holiday break."

The attempt to calm her fell flat. Kala still had to talk to her boys, and to Derek, and just the thought of it made her sick. "We don't leave 'til tomorrow," she said. "I'm staying in like a good girl and ordering room service. To hell with it."

"That's it, just get yourself settled again," Jenna said encouragingly. "We'll handle this."

Kala put down the phone with her lip curling in a sneer. 'Handle it' was exactly what they'd do. She'd feel sorry for Sebast when they eventually got his family's contact info, but then, _he_ was the one who'd walked out.

And just thinking about last night's argument made her stomach clench with loss and worry. "Screw this," she muttered, and ordered the room service, then ran a hot bath to soak in.

At least it couldn't get much worse.

…

Jason was in Elise's lab, trying to be helpful and gradually realizing he was just in the way, when his phone chirped. At first, it was a welcome distraction. When he saw the name in the caller ID, he smiled. "Hey, Dustin. What's up?"

"Not much," his best friend replied. "Quick question. You heard from Kala lately?"

"Not since she was here last," Jason replied. "She's a miracle worker, figuring out Elise was craving those weird cherimoya things. I don't care if I have to ship them in from California, it's worth it."

"Careful," Elise said, eyeing him, and he blew her a kiss to let her know he wasn't painting her as the crazy pregnant lady.

"Uh-huh," Dustin said. "Well, look, I got a long drive back, so I can't be on long, but I figured you didn't know 'cause you hadn't said anything to me. You seen the band news today?"

"No," Jason said, feeling the first hint of trepidation. "What did they do?"

Dustin sighed. "Kala and Sebast had a big wicked fight. He walked out of the band. I just dropped him off at the airport on his way back to Metropolis - he rode a Greyhound from Denver to KC. And it's all about some guy Kala's seeing."

Jason's brow furrowed, and Elise tilted her head to look at him worriedly. "Some guy? Last I checked, Kala wasn't seeing anybody."

Every word came slowly, reluctantly, but Dustin was worried enough about this that he had to share it. "Yeah, I hadn't heard anything either. Sebast says she met a guy in Gotham - and if you google her name right now, you'll find pics of her smooching him. Seems like this whole fight got kicked up by Sebast seeing the video."

" _Shit_ ," Jason said, not a common word in his vocabulary these days. Elise's gray eyes were alive with curiosity, and he told Dustin, "I've got an idea who it could be. Thanks, man. I'll look into it, make sure my crazy sister isn't doing anything _too_ stupid."

"I knew you'd look after her," Dustin said, sounding relieved, and then they signed off.

Jason turned to look at Elise. "It's Kala. She and Sebast just split up, apparently, like split the band, over her seeing a guy from Gotham."

"Oh, _no_ ," Elise said, one hand rising to her mouth. "Jase … she was being real coy when she was here. I didn't think anything of it, I always heard Dick Grayson was a flirt, and you know she is too."

Groaning, Jason pulled up the search bar on his phone and plugged in his sister's name. "I'm gonna give Tim so much hell for not telling me. I mean, Dick is a wonderful guy, but his track record … not so much. I hope he doesn't break her heart, she'll pitch him into the ocean. The _Pacific_ Ocean. Hell, knowing _my_ sister, maybe the Indian Ocean."

Elise managed a laugh, but both of them fell quiet when the video popped up in the search results. Jason hit play, and they watched jumpy footage of a crowd … that quickly zeroed in on Kala's laughing smile.

And a guy, his back to the camera, reaching out for her. Jason's jaw dropped as they kissed; the person filming was much more interested in Kala than in the guy, but he got a halfway decent profile despite the graininess of phone-camera footage.

"That's not Dick Grayson," Elise said warily. He was too tall, too broad-shouldered, carrying more muscle than the lithe acrobat.

Jason took a deep breath, and let it out in a disbelieving snort. "No, it's the other one. Jay Todd."

"Oh, _shit_ ," Elise whispered, eyes going wide.

Jason clicked the video off and looked at his wife with steadiness he didn't feel. If she had any idea of the anger burning in his chest, she'd whip out the blue kryptonite and bench him. "My idiot sister is screwing _Red Hood_."

"Oh my _God_ ," Elise groaned, putting a hand to her forehead as if a migraine had started there. "No wonder she was being cagey. Last we heard, he was her trainer over the summer. I had no idea about _this_."

"Her trainer, all right," Jase scoffed, still keeping the outrage buried. "Advanced bedroom gymnastics. Kala _cannot_ pick a relationship that'll last, I swear. She has the worst taste in men of anyone I know. And I know _Sebast_."

"What're we gonna do?" Elise asked.

Jason leaned over and kissed her cheek. "You, my lovely wife, aren't going to do anything right now except relax. Kala can take care of herself."

"Yeah, right," she scoffed. "What're _you_ gonna do?"

"Have a little chat with my uncle, who _had_ to know about this," he said, and used his super-speed to exit the conversation before she could convince him otherwise.

He couldn't explain his anger to her, or his disappointment. Kala had _never_ done anything this dumb, not since Nick. Hell, even keeping Marlene a secret was just so she could troll them at Thanksgiving, but the actual relationship was pretty good for both of them. It was just a shame that it could've gotten Marlene fired if the label found out. Jason had had high hopes for Dustin, and though it saddened him, he'd ultimately understood why it couldn't work. He'd rolled his eyes at Alan, that one was doomed, just too shallow. Even Nick had turned out to be a halfway decent guy, once he got over the thrill of fooling around with a high school girl. None of them were ever gonna approach what Jason had with Elise, and he had no more idea of how to find the right one for Kala than Kala herself did.

But this was _Jason Todd_. The boy who shared his name, who had _died_ before Jase himself went into training. Also, the Red Hood, the crime boss and psycho killer who'd beaten Tim up for the sin of being Robin after him. The bad guy not even Batman could catch. The man who had ended up seeing to most of Kala's training during the summer.

Red Hood. The Titans still spoke that name softly, and not in Tim's hearing, though he claimed to be over it now that Hood was working with the Bats again.

Pretty much the last person on the planet Jason figured his sister would hook up with.

It was later in Gotham, he'd probably catch all the Bats at home – and there was an exterior entrance to the Batcave, one that was inaccessible to anyone who couldn't jump fifty feet across the flat. It would pose no obstacle to one angry Super.

…

Tim found out from Dick, when he would've rather enjoyed his french toast in silence until the coffee worked its way through his system. He'd been dreaming about chemical formulas all night, knowing the samples Jay had taken from Scarecrow were still being analyzed. Instead of an easy morning, he got the Grayson elbow in his shoulder, and a cell phone shoved in front of his face. "Guess what happened last night," Dick said.

Narrowing his eyes, Tim tried to focus. "So Kala has a boyfriend … wait. _No_."

" _Yeah_ ," Dick said, and didn't notice that Alfred was smiling as he brought in another plate. "No wonder Jay's been in such a good mood. This has been going on since his birthday, Tim."

Tim's eyes went wide, and he looked up at Dick, horror-struck. "Oh, _no_."

Dick leaned back, bemused. "Okay, it's weird, but it's not _that_ bad."

"No, you don't get it," Tim said, scowling in disgust. "That was _Kala_ at the masquerade ball. Had to be. If he'd cheated on her that soon, she'd kill him. So it had to be _Kala_ who came back here with him."

"Oh, _man_ ," Dick groaned. "There's still glitter in the garage!"

Breakfast was trying to make a return appearance at the thought. There had been glitter everywhere, making it very obvious that Jay and his snow queen had thoroughly enjoyed themselves atop the bike, and in the shower upstairs, from what Dick had snickered about the next day after ducking into Jay's room after he went out and before Alfred could clean. Which was gross enough to Tim, but now he had to know that _Jason's sister_ was the culprit. "That's it, I'm steam-cleaning the entire house, the garage, the grounds … she can fly, probably the roof too."

Neither of them noticed that Alfred, who normally despaired of keeping a houseful of young men in some state resembling presentable, was still only smiling. Or that Bruce was uncharacteristically absent from breakfast.

…

Jay went to take his lumps, as ordered, and found Bruce tinkering with the Batmobile again. He got the usual nod of acknowledgment, then Bruce asked him to hand over the eight mil socket, and nothing else, so he stood there shuffling his feet like an idiot kid.

Fine, he'd just spit it out already. "I guess you saw the news," he said.

"Quickly enough to catch the quality of the footage being degraded," Bruce said. "Barbara is very thorough. Your identity should be safe."

"Still a dumb risk," Jay said cautiously.

"You're both young," Bruce replied. "Learn from it. Don't do it again. The next time, someone might ID you - and then we're all at risk."

Jay nodded, and Bruce went on picking apart the comm system in the car, testing the electrical components, until Jay finally burst out, "I kind of expected to get read the riot act for screwing around with Supergirl."

Bruce put aside the voltmeter and looked up at him steadily. "Who am I to judge you? Didn't you comment on my own relationship issues recently?"

"This is fucked up," Jay complained. "I _know_ you've got an opinion, Bruce. You being all reasonable and hands-off is freaking me the hell out."

"You want to hear my opinion?" Bruce asked, in dangerously soft tones.

That, weirdly, relieved Jay. Maybe now they could have the big fight he was expecting, he could storm out of the Cave and chew Babs out for making him have this miserable conversation in the first place. "Sure. Gimme your opinion, B-man."

"You have the potential to bring out the best in each other. Or the worst. Which it is depends entirely on both of you." And then he went back to fiddling with the wiring.

"That's _it_?!" Jay exclaimed. "No 'how dare you seduce my best friend's daughter under my roof?' No 'you have no business looking sideways at Supergirl, much less sleeping with her?' Not even 'when I said you could train her this wasn't what I had in mind?' You're _not_ cool with it, I'm not dumb enough to believe _that_ horse shit."

Bruce stopped and looked up at him again, scowling slightly. "I doubt you seduced her, or that it was under my roof, despite the glitter in the garage. I'd never say you were _unworthy_ of her, and I find it improbable that you would sincerely believe I think so little of you. As for what and how you trained her, I'm quite sure this didn't happen until after her graduation – and in any case, I gave you control of the curriculum."

"Well, shit," Jay said. "It could've happened here. It could've been movie night."

"The sexual tension was still very apparent the next morning. It wasn't then," Bruce said with finality, making Jay choke at the phrase 'sexual tension'. He continued, "If you must know, I don't think either of you have the emotional maturity or the relationship experience to successfully handle what you've started. But I hope you prove me wrong."

"You don't know shit about my relationship experience," Jay said warningly, then clamped his jaw shut before he said anything stupid.

"There _are_ large blanks in what I know of your personal history," Bruce said serenely. "Regardless, as you've said before, I have no standing from which to judge. I hope for the best for both of you."

Jay scoffed at that. There had to be a reprimand lurking in there somewhere. Bruce was just waiting for him to let down his guard before he sprung it.

They didn't get to pursue the issue any further because they heard a loud _thump_ from somewhere in the cave, out toward the waterfall. Whatever it was set the bats to squeaking angrily. Jay jerked back, hand falling to the butt of his gun … and not drawing it.

One, because he recognized the young man storming toward them both, and shooting a girl's brother did _not_ get a guy any brownie points with her. And two, because a gun wouldn't do any damn good against Superboy, not without kryptonite bullets. _Ah, shit,_ Jay had time to think.

The kid was beside them in a heartbeat, his blue eyes sparking red. " _You,_ " he growled, hands knotting into fists. "You stay the hell away from my sister, you understand?"

And all Jay could think to say in response was, "Dude, _she_ comes to _me._ "

Bruce shot him a disbelieving and horrified look at that, even as he moved between them protectively.

…

Clark was in the middle of going over the International first page when his hearing picked up the sound he'd hoped _not_ to encounter: Jason's voice, rumbling with anger, and coming from much closer than Kansas.

He's known, in the back of his mind he'd _known_ this would happen as soon as Jason heard the news. Some things never changed, and the twins' protectiveness of one another was an absolute constant – no matter how misplaced it might be at the moment. Clark tuned in just in time to hear Jason demand that Jay stay away from his sister.

 _Oh, no._ "I'll be right back, Ron," he said, grimacing and rubbing his stomach. "I never should've let Lois talk me into trying that green papaya salad." He took off at a hasty trot, that swiftly became flight as he heard Jay's reply. There was no time to waste.

Kal-El landed in the Batcave just as Jason advanced belligerently on Jay Todd – who was falling back, sensibly. Bruce had gotten between them, reaching toward his belt, and that sarcastic response had infuriated Jason enough to make him forget about the kryptonite Bruce carried for emergencies.

No need for Bruce to actually use it, this time. Clark had already darted in with super-speed and grabbed Jason's collar. "That's enough, Jason," was all he said, but with Jason he rarely needed to say more.

Jason struggled against his father's hold for a moment, then gave up. At least physically. "Dad, did you even see the video that's going around?" he asked, his voice angry and anguished. He looked for all the world the way he had when they had been so small and he had considered himself Kala's only defender. It had been his way their whole life. "He's got no business messing around with her! He's _Red Hood_ , Dad! He's the very _last_ person she should have anything to do with!"

"That's not our call to make," Clark told him gently, knowing the fear that lay behind his son's fury. A part of him understood _too_ well. "Your sister is an adult, Jason, you and I don't get to make her choices for her."

He wasn't paying as much attention to Jay and Bruce, but from the corner of his eye he saw Jay's jaw drop at that statement. Clark kept his focus on his own son, releasing his collar but keeping a steadying hand on his shoulder. Jason looked confused, wounded, and furious. "Dad, _come on_. This is the worst idea in her long history of terrible ideas! You _can't_ be okay with this."

"The only thing I'm unhappy about is that Kala felt the need to keep it a secret from her family," Clark replied evenly. "I would have thought that she knew she could tell us anything. But then, you're sort of proving her right, aren't you?"

Despite the flush that crept his neck, Jason pointed at Jay in disbelief. "You weren't here a minute ago! Did you see him? He was gonna pull a gun on me, Dad!"

Jay gave a bark of laughter. "Yeah, how much good would _that_ do me, Superboy? I'm not loaded with kryptonite. Today."

" _Jason_ ," Bruce said, before either Kal-El or Jason could reply further, and both boys flinched from the disapproving tone. "To be fair, Jason – Superboy, you _did_ approach him in a threatening manner."

Clark added, "I could hear that threatening manner from Metropolis. Jason, this isn't how your mother and I raised you."

"Mom's probably loading her gun right now. We both know she's not gonna like this, either," Jason muttered angrily.

Clark sighed. "No, she's swearing a blue streak and terrifying all the interns. Mostly because her daughter landed on the gossip page of our paper. Lois is more angry about the video than about the kiss."

Bruce spoke up then. "Oracle is blurring all copies of the video and the photographs to protect their identities as much as possible."

"I'll have to thank Oracle for that," Clark said, slightly relieved. He turned back to Jason again. "It's none of our business who Kala dates, Jason. She's a grown woman. Now apologize. To _both_ of them."

He saw the truculent look in Jason's eyes flash forth, but he curbed it, taking a deep breath. "Fine," he grumbled, turning to them both. "I'm sorry for bursting in here. My sister's not the best judge of character, and I worry about her."

Clark drew in a breath to tell his son that that was the least apologetic apology he'd ever heard, when to his surprise Jay spoke. "Yeah, well, I worry about her too. Dunno what the hell she sees in a guy like me, but…" He shrugged. "It works."

Jason narrowed his eyes, and Clark touched his arm gently. "I suppose that apology is the best I'm going to get. And Bruce – I am very sorry for showing up uninvited."

"It was to be expected," Bruce replied, and Clark turned to go, intending to bring Jason along with him.

Then something struck him: Bruce's complete lack of surprise. Even the unflappable Bat should've at least raised an eyebrow, if he'd just learned that his son was in a relationship he'd never heard about. Clark turned around, fixing his friend with an appraising look. "When did _you_ find out, Bruce?"

Eyes a colder blue than his own met his gaze, and held it without flinching. "If I _did_ suspect before today, it wouldn't have been any business of mine. At least, not until one of them actually told me."

So he'd known … or wanted them to think he had. It didn't really matter to Clark. He could be furious at all the lying and secrecy, disappointed in the juvenile silliness of them sneaking around, or rightly concerned about his daughter – who had issues with toeing the moral line – getting involved with someone whose hands were much bloodier than her own.

All of that, though, would ultimately be self-serving. And it would only cause Jason, who looked up to him still, to make one of his own cardinal mistakes, and interfere 'for Kala's own good' when she would decidedly resent that. Instead, Clark just sighed, and shook his head. "I'll see you at the Watchtower meeting tomorrow," he said, and guided Jason outside before there were any more unwelcome revelations.

As he took off, flying toward Kansas with his son at his side, Jason said, "Dad … you _can't_ be okay with this."

Clark stopped in midair, turning to face him. "Jason. She's not sixteen anymore. Kala is old enough to make her own choices, and as long as she's not hurting herself or anyone else, or doing anything illegal, we _cannot_ tell her what to do."

"She's _gonna_ get hurt," Jason grumbled. "You've heard about him."

"I _knew_ him, at least a little, as a boy," Clark corrected. "I don't believe everything I hear. I'm a reporter, Jason, I have to consider the credibility of the source. And most of the people talking about Jason Todd are either afraid of Red Hood, or angry with him."

"Yeah, 'cause he put Tim in the hospital," Jason shot back.

"And _Tim_ is over that," Clark reminded him. "Tim works with him these days. I don't know if it makes sense to hold a grudge on someone else's behalf after they've relinquished it."

"I don't like him," Jason said, stubborn as ever.

Clark sighed again. His son had always been the more biddable of the twins, but when Jason decided to plant himself, he made Ben's mules look wishy-washy. In some respects, it was easier to change Kala's mind than his; though she needed to be convinced more often, she was at least more open to persuasion.

"Consider the source," Clark repeated. "You don't _know_ Red Hood. The person we know with the most direct experience of him is Kala, and _she_ clearly thinks well enough of him."

"Or this is another one of her damn stunts," Jason growled. "She still gets a kick out of being outrageous. Half of the whole rock star thing is just how much she likes to shock people."

Clark couldn't deny that. "Kala likes being the center of attention. She always has. But you and I are out here saving the world in primary colors, so I don't think we have any room to judge her. And _most_ of the 'rock star thing' is that she loves to sing."

"Dad…!" he began, but Clark cut him off.

" _Jason_. It doesn't matter what we think. This is _her_ life. And going to confront Jay was _way_ out of line. I'd better not find out you went back there, unless it's to give a more sincere apology." He fixed the younger man with a stern glare, the kind that usually backed down even the most obstreperous criminals.

Jason just frowned right back at him. "When this all blows up in her face, I just hope she doesn't out us and the Bats. But she's my sister and I love her, so I won't tell her 'I told you so'. All right, though, I won't go back."

Clark didn't have the time or the patience to deal with that, so he just dropped Jason off and headed back to Metropolis, shaking his head. Every parent had to deal with similar problems, he supposed, but at least most of them didn't have to handle superpowers in the mix.

…

Lois saw the name on the caller ID and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath for patience. "Hey Richard. I guess you saw the news?"

"No, I was calling to see if you guys wanted to fly down to the mountains next weekend," he replied. "It's cooler there. What's on the news?"

"Kala," Lois told him, and ran down the pertinent facts. She didn't want to say Jay's real name, even in her own office, so she just said, "The guy in the video is her martial arts trainer from the summer. You can imagine about how well _that_ down within the community."

A pause, while he recalled it, and then Richard sucked in a breath. "Oh, _man_. Wow. This is … damn, Lo, now I'm starting to regret her going there to train. I wish she could've gone and interned on a certain tropical island. Her taste in women is a little less problematic."

"Too bad we're not the ones calling the shots," Lois replied. "Clue in the cheerleader? Now that it's gone public, I'm pretty sure there's gonna be drama."

"Oh, you know it," Richard laughed. "I'm sure Jason's gonna _love_ this."

Lois dropped her head into her palm. "Oh, I'm hoping we can keep it under wraps for a little while longer. He doesn't follow the gossip. But yeah, he's friends with Tim, so he's not gonna be happy."

She got off the phone just in time to see Clark walk back into the bullpen, and by the expression on his face, Lois knew _something_ had happened. He diverted to her office, closed the door, and just looked at her. Even before he began to explain, she leaned back in her chair and groaned, " _Fuck_. Seriously? Remind me again why the hell I have kids?"


	73. All the Cracks and Broken Parts

Sebast made it home at last, taking the subway from the airport for the final leg of his long, disheartening journey. He had enough change left for that, at least.

What he didn't have were his house keys, locked in the same safe as his wallet, and it took a frustrating ten minutes to find the hidden spare. Then he was finally in, dropping his bags in the living room and flopping into a chair with a sigh of relief.

His priorities were simple: get a shower, change clothes, eat something, then get his subway card out of the drawer so he could run to the bank later. At some point he was going to need to get online and cancel his cards, then order new ones – Sebast didn't want to contact anyone on the tour to have his wallet mailed to him. There was nothing irreplaceable in it, anyway.

He hadn't slept in a bed for two days … but just thinking about the master bed upstairs hurt. All the evenings he'd snuggled up with Kala and drifted off to sleep. All the mornings he'd woken to her sprawling everywhere, soaking up the sun from the huge windows. All the nights they'd been together, holding and held, never alone.

No way could he sleep there. He'd have to put sheets on the guest bed. Or just pass out on the sofa, like a guest in his own home.

His phone chirped and buzzed, and Sebast eyed it warily. It didn't go off again, though, so he checked it.

The message began, _I know you're not going to answer this._ And the sender was listed as Mom 2.0, which felt like a cruel joke just about now. Sebast sighed, and read on to see what Lois Lane had to say.

 _We heard. I know you're hurt, and pissed. We still love you. I'm sorry. Contact us when you feel you can._

"Ah, fuck," Sebast groaned, because it hit him again that he wasn't just losing Kala. He loved her parents, and her brother, and her little sister, and all her extended family. He even liked their loud, crazy dogs. Eight years worth of friendships and holidays and vacations and sleepovers.

Was it even possible to keep in touch with all those people? Lois seemed to think so.

Sebast closed the phone, sighed, and decided that moping alone would be stupid. He called Mikey instead. "Hey, mano, bring your xbox and a bunch of tacos," he said as soon as Mikey answered. "I made it home, I'm pissed off, I'm hungry, and I don't wanna think. And since you couldn't help me get here, I figure you owe me dinner."

"I'm just glad you're okay," Mikey told him. "I'll be there in an hour."

"Good, that'll give me time to clean up," Sebast said, and held on to that thread of hope as tightly as he could.

…

When Bruce came upstairs for breakfast, Dick was the first to speak up. "Did you see the news?"

Bruce gave him a look. "I was alerted to it last night. Barbara is already on damage control. Jason came to talk it over with me just now."

"Is he still here?" Dick asked. "I haven't decided if I want to high-five him or bonk him upside the head."

"No, he left after Jason Kent showed up to express _his_ opinion. I doubt yours would be much welcome just now," Bruce replied, and thanked Alfred for his plate.

"Wait, Jason was _here_?" Tim asked, wide-eyed. "Oh no. How bad was the damage?"

"Nil. Clark arrived just after he did, and prevented any untoward use of superpowers." Bruce poured syrup over his french toast and began cutting it into neat squares.

" _Clark_ was here? And I _missed_ him?" Dick actually pouted. Some people might forget that his chosen identity was a _Kryptonian_ legend, but Bruce never did. And that was likely part of the reason why Dick had chosen Nightwing.

"He was too busy preventing violence to stop in for a chat," Bruce replied, and addressed his breakfast.

Tim finally turned to him. "So what are we gonna do?"

"Finish eating, train, study our case log, go on patrol tonight," Bruce said flatly.

Dick, of course, chimed in. "What're we gonna do about Jay and Kala?"

Bruce set down his fork and regarded them both. " _We_ are not going to do anything. It's none of our business. They're both adults, and they both chose to get involved, even knowing the other's history. I see no reason for any of us to interfere."

"Jason's not done," Tim warned. "When he gets pissed off, it's a rare thing, but he doesn't cool down just because his dad told him to."

"He'd better be done threatening me and mine," was all Bruce replied.

Tim just returned his attention to his breakfast, shaking his head ominously.

…

Kala couldn't put it off any longer, though God did she ever wish she could. This was almost harder than willingly running into what she knew was a trap with Harley and Ivy, almost harder than facing down the Joker. At least then, she knew she had someone who might dive in and save her. Kala knew too well that, without the boys, without Sebast, the life she knew and loved in this industry would be over. Fighting for her emotional armor, she trudged across the hall and knocked on the door. The room was technically Robb and Ned's, but she could hear that Morgan was in there too at the moment.

Ned opened the door, and just stared at her for a moment. And it was all she had not to fall apart right there. Just to have to acknowledge, _really_ acknowledge, what she might have done to the band with this decision, nearly broke her. She'd only been thinking of herself. He was within his rights to just slam the door. Kala looked up at him, and tried for a smile. "Oh, for cryin' out loud, get in here," he said, taking her elbow gently and steering her inside. "C'mon, guys, get the scarlet letter ready. Kala's here."

She had to huff out an involuntary laugh at that. Well, that was a good sign, at least. "You're not funny," she said, her voice sounding a little more broken than she'd like, but Robb and Morgan both stood up when she walked in, and for a moment she simply stood silent in the center of them.

Her voice fled for a moment, but she owed them some kind of explanation, some sort of apology. "I'm sorry," Kala finally said, and her voice broke a little. She took a deep breath, and tried again. "So, yeah. The guy I've been seeing – it's only been going on since August, and mostly long-distance. Sebast got this idea in his head that it was a lot longer than that, just because I met him earlier. It doesn't matter. Sebast's right. I lied to him, because I knew he wouldn't understand. Every other guy, even Marlene, he's always been cool but … not this time."

"'Cause this one means a lot to you," Ned said thoughtfully.

That prompted a sigh, the tangled-up emotions tightening on her. Why did her feelings for both of them have to be so complicated? "Yeah," Kala admitted, running a hand through her hair. This was so damn hard, when did telling the truth get so _hard_? "Almost as much as Sebast. So … I dunno how much you heard, but it got ugly. I said things … we both said things we shouldn't have. And now he's blocked my number. I don't know how it got this bad this fast. I just … I'm sorry. I screwed up. I broke up the band. This is all my fault. I did it, I own it."

"Looks like there's still four of us standing here," Morgan put in. "The band didn't break up. Sebast _left_. And that sounds like his problem. Last I checked, you two weren't in a relationship. Not that we knew about, anyway. You never had some kind of deal about not dating other people. He definitely didn't."

Kala gave a woeful shrug. "Yeah, well … apparently, we could've been in a relationship. If one of us had had the guts to say anything before it was too late."

Robb snorted at that. "Oh, yeah? That sounds like some of that bandfic crap. You're not a fuckin' mind reader. He can't get pissy with you 'cause he's been mentally dating you – while sucking every dick that wags his way from one coast to the other, don't forget – and you didn't pick up on his psychic vibes and started seeing somebody else."

Kala couldn't help a bark of laughter. "Oh my _God_ , Robb, that's … okay, it's a little more complicated than that. Actually, a lot more complicated than that. And it's not all on Sebast, to be fair. I think I was pretty much doing the same thing, until this. But thank you. All of you."

Ned shrugged. "We're in this together, Kala."

And Robb grinned. "Who knows, maybe when we get to California, you can fly the Karate Kid out for a double-date with me and Jennifer."

Kala badly needed the laugh that mental image gave her – she had one more conversation she was dreading.

…

Lois had just sent her message to Sebast when she felt her phone buzz and looked at the screen. _Goth Diva_ was the contact name, which Kala set herself the last time she'd gotten hold of it. Part of her just wanted to let the message go to voicemail until she had the time to duck out to lunch instead of going over this piece on a certain elected official's abuse of privileges. Really, by this time she would've thought they'd start being more _careful_ about their graft.

Luckily a little time, and a little perspective courtesy of Clark, meant she could take the call with more equanimity. Kala might be taking a few too many chances, but she was her mother's daughter more than anything else. Even though they had struggled with it when she'd been a teenager, blood would always tell. In the end, it was the wildness of her own that made Kala think she could do anything. And she'd always cherished it in her child, even when it made her crazy. Able to smile at that thought, her voice was already warm and knowing when she answered, "Hey, baby girl. Some morning, huh?" She already knew she wasn't going to mention her message to Sebast.

"Hey, Momma," Kala said in a tired voice. Like it or not, Lois' heart went out to her. Yeah, she was suffering the after-effects already and was expecting the fall-out. Her poor wild girl. "I guess you've seen the news?"

"Oh, yeah, sweetheart. You're hours late on that one," Lois told her with some regret. "And we recognized the guy, too."

" _Fuck_ ," Kala groaned, drawing it out to two heavy syllables, and Lois chuckled. First things first then; they could talk about Sebast and the band afterward.

She remembered all the times she'd brought boys home to her parents – most of which were really just an attempt to distract from whatever Lucy was doing at the time. Ella had never batted an eye, receiving everyone from the college communist to the tattooed biker with the same cordial courtesy.

Of course, Sam had frowned at all of them. Then again, he'd frowned at Lois when she hadn't been dating, too. By the time she was eighteen, Lois thought herself immune to paternal disapproval. Sam hadn't lived to meet Clark, but Lois sometimes amused herself by imagining his expression if the two had ever crossed paths.

Lois always tried to be more like her mother, less like her father, and mostly like herself when raising her children. It wasn't always easy, especially not with Kala who was so much like Lois herself, but she tried. She owed it to the pair of them, her little miracles, gifts unasked for yet treasured all the same.

So all Lois said was, "Is this why you were asking about Jay back in June?"

"No, Mom, I was trying to figure out why the hell Uncle Bruce was letting a douchebag of that caliber run loose in Gotham," Kala quipped back, and Lois laughed almost hard enough to spill her coffee. Her daughter continued, "And I don't know why I'm bothering to tell you, since no one else believes me, but I did _not_ hook up with him over the summer."

"So this is only a couple months old, then." Lois didn't argue; Kala had no reason to lie, so she was inclined to believe her. And it clearly mattered that _someone_ believed her.

There was a pause then. "Since the middle of August, actually. Momma, we didn't plan for this to happen. It just … happened."

Kala probably had no idea just how poignant that last sentence was. Oh boy, what had her sweet girl gotten herself into? This was sounding a lot more involved than falling into bed with the black sheep of the Bats. _Oh, Kala, tell me you didn't…_

The mother in her wanted desperately to scream out in protest, knowing how close her daughter had gotten to the edge, to the darkness that had nearly taken her. Wanted to absolutely forbid it, to remind her of how they'd almost lost her once already. To remind her of what Jason Todd's little trip into the darkness had cost Bruce and the boys. And just how much it would destroy her brother, herself, and most especially her father, to lose her. Seeing potential harm to her child, her precious girl, the one so like her in the need to reach out and touch the sky when humans were never meant to, how could she not?

But another part of Lois remembered meeting Jay a few times briefly as a kid, a snarky little brat trying to be too tough, trying to navigate a world totally different from his own. He'd been a hard-scrabble little monster, determined to be a Robin that Dick could be proud of. He'd been through so much; it was no surprise that it would twist him. And it had been some time since he'd had his nervous breakdown through Gotham's underbelly. Blood on your hands was blood on your hands, a stain that never really washed out, but it seemed he'd had his fill. Old habits were hard to break, true, but despite that, maybe Jay was done playing the villain. He was still reported to be brutal in his take-downs, but he _had_ chosen the darkest heart of that city as his usual territory. What deserved that more treatment more? And that made him a light of sorts in the Bowery, didn't it? Now why would that not attract a girl with her own complex about being broken once and rebuilding herself better? Especially when he was the one helping her reform that shielding?

 _It just … happened._ Oh, Kala. The way Lois herself had never planned to do more than investigate Superman, but he'd blindsided her like a speeding locomotive.

So Lois just let herself feel both for now, determining that time would be the best show of what the reality was. For now, Kala just needed her to listen. And the best thing she could do was nudge her until she spoke.

"So it's still pretty new and I bet neither of you has a clue what the other's thinking, huh? Explains why you're being so defensive, other than the obvious reasons," Lois replied, softening her tone. "I gotta hand it to you, as someone who's kept some pretty big secrets, keeping a lid on that one must've been difficult."

"I didn't want to ruin it by pushing things," Kala said with a heavy sigh.

Lois echoed it. "Baby girl, I'm your mother. I'll love you no matter what. As if some boy – even one of Bruce's boys – could ever come between us. I'll always be here, no matter what crazy scheme you're up to, munchkin."

"Thanks, Momma," Kala replied softly.

She could have just left it at that, secure in the knowledge that Kala knew she could tell her anything, but one worry just wouldn't go silent, so she just asked it, not quite sure which answer she wanted. If it were just a fling, it would run its course, like all of them did. But that's not what she thought she was hearing in her little girl's voice.

In light of that, she would just hope for the best until it started to look the opposite. For both of them, for that poor little boy who had never caught a break, for the man he was maybe trying to be, that she was wrong. And, barring that, she'd have a discussion with Barbara, get her assessment of things; she was likely to have the most objective outlook on the whole situation, know the current state of affairs with Red Hood's activities. If she knew their Oracle, and she did, Gotham's resident Goddess of Intel would know everything Bruce might and much more beyond that. She'd have to arrange a day-trip soon, preferably while her husband was too busy to question her absence.

So, until then, there was only one choice. Lois took a deep breath, hoping she was right, and inched toward giving her blessing. "Just please, for the sake of my not-entirely-silver hair, tell me it's not just casual hooking up at this point. I'm sure Alfred would be so disappointed in him," Lois quipped despite her worry.

To her relief, she got a laugh. "Yeah, ummm, so. He took me to brunch and introduced me to the waitress as his girlfriend. Which was kind of a surprise, since we weren't putting a name to it. He's been burned pretty bad before, Mom. More than once. I … I'm the one who has to be careful of him. I mean, it's not you and Dad, but nothing else ever could be."

Jason and Elise were doing a decent job of that, but Lois would never say so. At least not to Kala. "Honey, if anyone who thinks we're so great really knew us, they wouldn't want to be us," Lois said, deflecting a little. "Your dad and I have our share of issues."

"Yeah, but the entire world knew there was something between the two of you," Kala replied, cautiously enough that Lois had her answer.

 _I just hope he's fallen as hard for her as she did for him, or it's gonna be really_ _ **bad**_ _when they hit the bottom._ "Oh, we tried; we were just ridiculously bad at it. Kala, that's not the best thing in the world, y'know. You have to consider how many enemies he had made by then. And then there's the fact that your father still has to see the pitying looks from across the bullpen whenever I interview Big Blue. Mostly he thinks it's funny, because he has a twisted sense of humor, but it doesn't make married life any easier."

"You make it look good, anyway," Kala sighed, a real weight to the sound. "I know, relationships are difficult. No matter how written in the stars it looks, it still takes work."

"That it does." Lois decided to spring the other question on her mind, since she had Kala talking. "So how's Sebast taking this?"

"Oh, _that_ shitshow hasn't hit the news?" Kala laughed darkly. "Yeah, no. I'm not getting into it. Suffice it to say, Sebast was really pissed off about me lying – I didn't exactly volunteer the fact that I was sneaking around with someone, and then he recognized Jay, too, so he's convinced I jumped on him over the summer and never quit. Doesn't help that Jay actually came to a KLK show. In guyliner. And Sebast spent the whole set ogling him."

Lois groaned, dropping her head into her hands. "Of course he did," she replied, keeping her tone light to hide her concern. She hadn't heard Kala speak so bitterly of her best friend for years, and only in reference to the fact that he'd believed Giselle, however briefly.

"Oh yeah. That was the first time he saw me with Jay; he got pissed that I went and poached his pick of the show. Then when he found out it wasn't a one-time deal, he got all moody on me. The video was just the last straw. We had it out, he shot his mouth off, I kicked him out of our hotel room … and he quit the band."

Lois had to lean back in her chair. She'd heard that rumor, but hadn't wanted to believe it. No need for Kala to know that it had reached so far yet. "He did what now?"

"Walked out of the band. Blocked everyone's numbers, too. The label's gonna try to talk him into coming back, but … they're pretty mercenary about it. Our agent told me the band's called KLK, not SNV." Kala lost her fury then, forced to really consider things as they were, now sounding only lost and lonely and sad, making Lois want to pick her up and snuggle her the way she had when Kala was tiny.

Sighing, Lois spoke gently. "Kala, did you ever think … well, you know how you felt about it. Especially with Javier." It had eaten Kala up inside to watch Sebast being cute and playful with his boyfriend, the first guy he'd really been in a relationship with, and Lois had worried the whole time.

Her answer was a sarcastic laugh, though the pain still filtered through. "That he might be _jealous_? Yeah, that's the part of the argument I was trying _not_ to get into, because it hurts too damn much. I can't help it if he waited until I was with someone else to actually _say_ something about wanting to be with me. It's too late, Momma, he waited too long. He was fine keeping me on the back burner as long as he had everything except sex with me, and all the sex in the world out there with his legions of groupies. Once I was spending even a little time with someone else, then _he_ got jealous."

"Well, you two spent pretty much all your time together for years," Lois pointed out. "And this is hard, Kala. He might be going about it backwards, but changing your image of who you are once you thought it was settled … that's one of the hardest things you can do. Ask your Aunt Maggie. She walked away from a job, a marriage, a whole life."

"I know," she said miserably. "I know he had to be freaked out, if he wasn't saying anything. I know I shouldn't have cut him off, I should've told him I was seeing somebody, maybe this could've been different. But how do I tell him that without outing who I am? And why the Kala he knows would be sleeping with a Wayne boy? Or even how I'm managing that when we're half a country apart?"

There was only one solution, only one way to have averted this catastrophe. One that really should have been addressed long before now. "We should've told him," Lois murmured, giving a resigned sigh of her own. "We probably should have done it years ago, honestly."

Kala gave a squawk of frustration and disbelief. " _Mother!_ Seriously?! We don't _tell_ people! Everybody who knows, found out. Not even _Kristin_ knows!"

"Kristin's too young," Lois replied, still sorting it out for herself. Sebast had become like another kid to her, and the thought of never seeing him again hurt. He knew them all well enough, and six months ago, Lois would've sworn that he'd never turn his back on them. "It doesn't affect Kristin's life yet. When it does, we'll tell her."

Really, she expected the response she got; her daughter's voice practically trembled with outrage. "Oh so we're just _telling_ people now," Kala grumbled. "What about Aunt Lucy and Uncle Ron? What about Uncle Perry? Shit, he might like to know where his International editor is disappearing off to!"

Lois bore the vitriol silently, knowing it for what it was. If the family had _told_ Sebast, things might've turned out differently, and Kala was furious that she'd lost him over a rule that her parents might've let her break. That said, Kala knew perfectly well why, but she was too wound up to think about them right then. "Are you done?"

Kala growled under her breath. "I guess."

"I should've seen it earlier," Lois said continued then. "We told your grandmother because it affected her, because she didn't understand how what happened happened, and she had to know to keep the secret. If you and Sebast had stayed together, it was going to affect him, too, eventually. Your father and I have even talked about. Kala, you guys own a _house_ together. Especially with you stepping up your involvement, he was gonna notice how much you were gone. He'd have to know. Everyone else – Lucy, Ron, even Kristin – they're insulated from it, but he's right there by your side."

"Now's a _great_ time to realize that," Kala replied sarcastically.

"Sorry, honey, you don't have a monopoly on making mistakes and overlooking important things." Kala had never spoken up about it, either, but in this she was too much her father's daughter, striving to keep to the secrecy that protected everyone she loved, and Lois knew that. "Besides, as close as you two always have been, with you being an active hero, Sebast was gonna be at risk. Anyone who wanted to bring you down would go for him."

A long pause, and Lois was about to ask if Kala had hung up when she spoke in a much softer voice. "Maybe this is best, then. I don't want Sebast hurt because of me. At least Jay … Jay already knows what it's like to be in the crosshairs."

Lois scoffed a little. "To use the Chairwoman's phrase, don't go all Super-guilt on it. Speaking as the squishy human in the equation, I'd be very pissed off if your dad had nobly let me go to pursue … I dunno, Catwoman or something. Someone who's more used to being shot at than me."

"You're a star reporter, you've been shot at before," Kala pointed out. "Also, from everything I hear about Selina, that's a terrifying thought."

"Yeah, but I never got kidnapped by aliens or supervillains until I started hanging out with your dad. He's a risk factor, but he's worth it." Lois replayed the last few minutes of conversation in her mind, and smiled to herself, glad that her office was both soundproof and regularly checked for listening devices. "As for Selina, I've met her. They're a good match; she takes absolutely none of his emotionally-stunted crap. Someone needs to dink Bruce around the ear every so often. It's good for him."

"Yeah, and I'm not totally looking forward to seeing Uncle Bruce again now that he knows, either," Kala sighed.

That was a question someone really needed to ask and she had the feeling that she was the only one who would. "Let me ask you this, kiddo. Would you give up Jay if it meant not having to deal with his family drama?" Lois kept her tone casual despite the importance of the question.

Kala made a rude noise. "Fuck no. Sorry, Mom – but not _that_ sorry. I'll take the Bat-disapproval and the horror from the boys. If he will. This might blow the whole thing apart for him."

"Well, if he can't handle Dick poking fun at him, he wasn't good enough for you in the first place, sweetheart," Lois said staunchly. "In which case, I'll probably feel the need to go over to Gotham and shoot him. Somewhere nonlethal, but you get the point."

She understood this whole thing better than probably anyone else in the family. Clearly Jay was just as fucked up about emotions and attachment as Bruce was, and Kala was tempestuous enough to be a bit of a challenge. But there had to be something more than attraction going on; casual had never been Kala's style. And in the stew of figuring out how to be a successful rock star _and_ how to be a hero, trying to manage a relationship was damned difficult. Lois had had enough trouble dealing with being a high-profile reporter and dating a superhero who was more honest and open than any Bat.

Kala managed a chuckle. "Every girl needs a mom willing to shoot a misbehaving boyfriend. Thanks, Momma."

"You're welcome, baby girl," Lois replied.

And then, since she'd known it would have to be said, she brought up the one thing Kala hadn't. "So, I'm guessing you haven't talked to your brother."

"Iguanaman doesn't follow the band news, thank God," Kala said. "I mean, I have to tell him, but I have to figure out how to say it so he doesn't blow his stack."

 _Oh Lord, here we go. And everything was going almost reasonably._ A very real part of her didn't want to breathe a word about this morning, let Kala find out on her own, but it would likely be worse if it got back that she'd known and never told her. Better to just get it over with, even if that included airborne tractors. Lois sighed, and closed her eyes. "Oh, honey. It's a little late for that. His stack is already blown."

"No," Kala whispered. Her mother could hear that tone of disbelieving horror through the phone. How many times over the years had she heard it from one twin about the other? This, however, might be better understood than most. "He _knows_? He's gonna act like a psycho!"

If only the description wasn't a little too on-the-nose. Neither of the twins did things at half-measures. "Oh, he did," Lois said ruefully. "Your dad came in half an hour ago from dragging him out of the Batcave where he went to go tell Jay off. It was pretty … well, typical overprotective big brother."

Kala drew in a deep breath. Despite that fact that she had known it was coming, Lois felt horrible knowing that this was not going to be pretty. "Oh my fucking _God_. He's a _minute and a half_ older. I swear to God, Mom, he'd better grow out of this! And Jay's gonna _freak_ , he's been worried about _Dad_ lasering important parts off, now _Jase_ goes full nutjob on him. _Augh!_ Great, Sebast walks out, I'm on my own with the band, and if Jay has any goddamn sense he'll run for the hills to get away from the girl with the crazy super-powered brother!"

"Honey, I'm sorry," Lois began. Honestly, she couldn't think of anything else she could say to make things any better. This was Kala's minefield to navigate.

"Also – way to bury the lede, Mom," Kala said, anger overcoming the disbelief. " _Fuck_. I have to go kick Jason's ass now. I love you."

"Please don't kill your brother, remember he's saved your life twice," Lois said quickly, knowing what was coming, and then got a dial tone. She sighed, putting down the phone, knowing her daughter could still hear her. "And he loves you, try to remember that. So do I. I know you're furious with him, Kal, but don't go _too_ crazy on him."

It wasn't as if Jason couldn't handle a dressing-down, but they were all torqued up at the moment, and both twins had enough of her temper to make their thankfully-rare conflicts pretty spectacular.

…

Jason walked at Elise's side as she crossed the yard to the barn, feeling every extra pound this morning. And her darling husband was still stuck on the same subject. " _Somebody_ had to say something. Dad's being all zen about it – except for about half a second when I thought he might take on Uncle Bruce."

That mental image made Elise chuckle, but she shook her head resolutely. "I love you, Jason, but that was still _dumb_."

He stopped right where he was, arms crossed, and watched her walk off.

She knew what the problem was: the same one Jason always had. He had both of his parents' determination, and once he'd sunk his teeth in something, he rarely let go. By now he'd probably figured out that going to confront Jason Todd was _not_ one of his smarter decisions. But like any good man who'd lost the moral high ground, he didn't want to admit it. Elise wasn't too worried about this particular bout of stubborn wrongheadedness. Jase would come around, he always did. And she had to admit she was quite happy to have a stubborn husband most of the time. Particularly when he devoted himself unswervingly to such tasks as winning over her parents, or making sure she ate three good healthy meals even on days when her work kept piling up. Or saving the world.

She glanced back as she got to the barn door, and saw Jason starting to look perplexed. Hopefully that meant he was thinking beyond his outrage. Elise favored him with a smile…

Jason seemed to disappear, and Elise startled, blinking. Then she saw him again, fifteen feet away from where he'd stood, and now sprawled on his butt in the grass. Only then did the sonic boom arrive, rattling windows and setting the beagles howling.

"What the actual _fuck_ did you think you were doing?!" Kala roared, because of course it was Kala, no one else would arrive at several times the speed of sound and knock Jason on his ass before he even knew she was there. She touched down, ignoring Elise, and advanced on her brother with hectic wrath in her eyes.

"What's best for you," Jason shot back, and Elise groaned. That was the _wrong_ thing to say to Kala, ever.

"Oh _get over yourself_ , you self-righteous asshat," Kala snarled.

Jason replied hotly, "Do you have _any idea_ how stupid this is? He's Red Hood!"

Kala's instant comeback was just as scorching. "I know who the fuck he is, idiot! I trained with him for three months before this started? You think I didn't do my research? You're the one who doesn't know dick about him!"

"Dick would've been an improvement," Jason retorted. "I mean, he might have a reputation but at least he doesn't have a body count!"

"That's not a fair assessment in this case and you know it! Hell, _I_ have a body count, Jase!" Kala screamed.

" _One!_ Same as me! And it was for a _reason_ , not just making a statement!"

Elise shivered to hear them shouting at each other so angrily. They crabbed and complained and bitched all the time, had since they were little, but never with real heat behind it. Usually when they fussed at each other, it was cute, and reassuring to Elise who now carried twins of her own. Her children would have a lifelong connection, someone who'd always have their backs.

But now … Elise had to remember that both her husband and her sister-in-law had killed people. Jason had been six, throwing a piano at a bad man to protect Kala, and he hadn't understood what he was doing. Kala had been sixteen, desperate to save her family from one of the deadliest foes Superman ever faced, and she'd meant to take herself out, too, damaged as she thought she'd become within the manipulations. And right now, as they squared off, Elise was all too aware that the pair of them could smash the house to splinters in seconds if it came to blows. It'd be like an earthquake and a tornado hitting at the same time.

They _wouldn't_ , she couldn't imagine a world in which either of them would risk hurting her or damaging the Kent farmhouse that had stood over a hundred years, but they _could_. Both of them were far more powerful than they looked.

Kala stalked forward. "Yeah, he had a reason, too, and part of it was being _fucking crazy_ thanks to coming back from the almost-dead. You can ram your holier-than-thou big-brother bullshit right up your ass. Might dislodge the ship's mast you've got jammed in there. Not everyone gets the fairytale romance, _Jason_. Some of us have to live in the real world, where things get messy. We can't all be perfect like you and get everything we want on the first try."

It was an unfair generalization, but it made Elise wince. This was showing all the signs of one of their rare knock-down, drag-outs. God, why had he gone to Gotham? Knowing no other way around it, she just had to watch it unfold and do what she could to help in the aftermath.

"Oh, yeah, 'cause I don't live in the real world," Jason shot back, his voice lowering as he fought for control of his temper. Well, Kala's potshot had hit home, Elise noticing the flush that was creeping up his neck and face. "You're the one living in a dream! I'm still in college, I've got kids on the way, I have a house and a farm I have to worry about. I'm not the one in the middle of a rock tour, flying away every night like Peter Pan to go screw the worst possible decision I could've made!"

Elise could see Kala wince briefly, as if from a blow, then she bit deeper in retaliation. "Good for you!" Kala snarled. "I'm so fucking proud, you're still Mommy and Daddy's good wittle boy, doing everything everyone expects and doing it so much better than anyone hoped! And I'm still the one-off, the weirdo, the black sheep! Nice to know nothing's changed since we were sixteen! "

"Oh bullshit on your black sheep, you're just Goth, you're not even close to evil. No matter how much a threat you might think you are," he spat back.

"Black sheep aren't supposed to be evil, idiot, they're just weird," Kala retorted. "And I'm the odd one out around here, always have been."

Unfortunately Jason had a comeback for that too. "If you're so sure about not being evil, maybe you shouldn't be sleeping with a recently-reformed mass murderer."

"Goddammit, Jason, get your facts straight! It's been two fucking years since what happened in Gotham! There's been nothing confirmed since then," Kala snapped, exasperated.

"Yeah, and even in Oregon people spend more than two years in prison for murder," Jason replied.

Kala shot her brother the most vicious glare. "It was more complicated than that and even you know it! There were no innocents involved in he and Bruce's little war, you asshole. They were all drug dealers, hired killers, big-name pimps. No huge losses there."

Jason squared his shoulders. "Now you're justifying it? This is why no one wants you around him! We don't need you thinking like him! What would _Dad_ think if he heard you?"

Elise winced, knowing that was the worst thing he could've said. Kala's eyes widened in shock and outrage; an eyeblink later, she'd crossed the space between them and clocked Jason. He skidded back a dozen feet, tearing up the grass, and looked up at his sister in surprise. She couldn't really hurt him, not with his invulnerability, but just the fact that she'd been willing to strike was enough of a shock.

That was the point at which Elise began to wonder just how certain she was about them not making it physical. And to envision tornadoes and earthquakes again.

Kala was breathing heavily. "Fuck you. Just … _fuck you_ , Jase. How _dare_ you bring Dad into it. Dad's the one who dragged you out of the Batcave like a misbehaving puppy!"

Getting punched seemed to have oddly cooled Jason's temper, rather than pissing him off worse. Elise imagined he'd just realized how much he was hurting her. "Kala, I'm just trying to keep you safe," he said earnestly. "Like I always do."

"I'm not six anymore!" she roared at him, her voice thick with tears. But the rage was more obvious in Kala's tone. "We always look out for each other, but you don't come in and shit on the only thing going _right_ in my life right now!"

"Going _right_?" Jason questioned, incredulously.

"Yes, you thickheaded lizard, when Sebast's acting weird and the tour's going to shit and everything else is falling apart, at least I had _one place_ in my whole life where I wasn't just pretending things were okay! Because they actually were pretty goddamn good, we saw the worst of Gotham and we _were cleaning it up_ together! No body count, no real hospitalizations, no live rounds. It was _working_ , Jason!"

Jason stood up slowly, and Kala raged on. "He sees something in me that no one else sees. He thinks I'm so damn good, when I know full well I'm the family fuck-up. He's the only one who's not scared of me losing my mind. You know what's in my head, Jason, you know what I've done and what I could've been. Who better to keep me sane than someone who dove all the way in and clawed his way back out? Who better to figure out how she works and how to shut her down than the only person around who's not scared of her?"

"You're not the family fuck-up," Jason said hoarsely.

" _Then let me live my fucking life and stop trying to_ _ **save**_ _me from myself! Could everyone try that?"_ Kala screamed at him.

Silence reigned, except for Kala panting, and Elise saw tears running down her cheeks. Jason looked at her, and then said softly, "I'm your _brother_. I'm your _twin brother._ If being with him can make you turn on _me_ …"

Kala erupted in bitter laughter, wide-eyed and utterly enraged. "This is turning on you? As if I didn't have provocation to be in your face _in the first place_. God, seriously, just go fuck yourself. I've had enough. Just stay out of it. And I swear to Rao, Jason, if you cost me this – if he decides to peace out because my walking tank of a brother went and threatened him – I will kick your ass into the next fucking galaxy. Then, since you wrecked _my_ love life, I'm gonna steal your wife and raise your kids as my own."

On that note, she left, as swiftly as she'd come, the grass flattened by the downwash of her takeoff. Jason stood there, watching the disappearing speck in the sky, his mouth turned down in a worried scowl.

Elise sighed. She loved Jason enough not to say, 'I told you so,' but she _had_ told him so. And if she could've, she would've stopped him going off half-cocked this morning. He'd known that, too, or he wouldn't have run out so fast. Instead she only said, "Well, _that_ was a nice operatic threat."

Jason turned to her, his expression devastated. Obviously he was still angry at Kala for hiding this, and most of his anger was because he was afraid for her. But he'd always hated arguing with her, at least about anything more important than the last slice of pizza.

Elise went to him and hugged him. He wrapped his arms around her and shivered. Kissing his hair, Elise murmured, "Hey, at least she's thinking about making sure the kids grow up in their heritage."

"We'd be better off without Krypton," Jason murmured. "Wanting to be the Last Daughter is what got her into all this mess."

She rubbed his back gently. "I love you, you big dumb alien."

"I love you too," Jason replied, then drew back a little. "I'm scared out of my mind for her. If she cares about him – and I know my sister, she does – and he goes off the rails, she might just follow him."

"And if you try to screw with her choices any more, she might just kick your ass," Elise replied. "We're gonna have to wait and watch. And be there for her if this goes south."

He sighed, and dropped his head onto her shoulder. "Why couldn't she just have married Dustin like five years ago?"

Elise chuckled. They both knew that wouldn't have lasted.

…

The office was split in half right down the middle, one side sleek and modern and immaculately clean. The other half … the carpet had been torn up, leaving tracks of staples jutting from the subfloor, and the walls had been haphazardly splashed with garish yellow paint. On the one side, a beautifully rendered oil landscape hung, centered over the minimalist leather couch. On the other, an oversized abstract canvas above a pair of chairs. The theme ran right up to the desk at the far end of the room, one side with a neatly aligned in tray and blotter, the other with papers held down by a knife jammed into the scarred wood surface.

All of it was theater. Gotham City _expected_ theater. You couldn't do business without it. Joker had graffiti in his hideouts, and art installations made of weapons and cards and silk flowers. Cobblepot had a whole themed lounge. Nygma had literally painted the walls green and covered them in question marks. So Two-Face played to type, and set up his public office to reflect the duality of mankind. Half reason, half brute instinct.

Harvey Dent himself stood at the window, his back to the room, looking out on the city. The panes on his right side were clean and clear, allowing a better view; on his left they were filthy, marred with cracks, but then his left eye no longer had the best vision, anyway. He only knew of two men in this town who didn't play up the theatrical aspect of their careers, and one of them was in jail. Sionis didn't need to, perhaps, his face was gruesome enough to make up for an ordinary office.

The other was Crane, who surrounded himself with books and beakers, trying to pretend he was still just the good doctor – not the wild-eyed beast that was Scarecrow. He would've done better with some burlap and straw around the place, Harvey thought. Just to make it clear that he wasn't the gangly bookworm all his past tormentors had seen and dismissed. But then, few men understood the duality of human nature as Harvey did.

"Sir?" That was one of his lieutenants, and Harvey turned toward him. He looked over his left shoulder, the gruesome scars plainly visible – no skin grafts, no cosmetic surgery, Harvey wore his monster's face without apology or shame. And this man had risen in the ranks because he met the fractured gaze without flinching. Harvey arched what had once been a brow in query, and the man continued, "Scarecrow just suffered a loss. The Bats broke into one of his warehouses, liberated some test subjects, and the word on the street is that they're aimed at him."

"Really," Harvey said, thoughtful. Was it time to strike, and put Crane in his place? Or time to help him out, end their squabble in an alliance against the Bats?

Only one way to know. He slipped a hand into his pocket and came out with the coin, regarding its faces reverently. One whole and lovely, as he had once been, handsome enough to charm any woman in the city. The other side … scratched, scarred, blackened. Etched by the same acid that had eaten half of Harvey's face and marred him forever.

He flipped the coin, watched it spin silver in the air, then caught it and slapped it down onto his other hand. Now was the moment, Schrodinger's cat both alive and dead, the air buzzing with possibilities, and for this instant Harvey felt closer to God than any man had a right to. As soon as he moved his hand the endless chances would collapse, into good or evil, mercy or destruction, but for right now he felt all the angels and devils dancing on the coin's fall, and it could go either way.

It was _fair_. He didn't make the choice. Fate did.

Harvey raised his hand, and saw the scarred face of Lady Liberty, and smiled. Half the handsome grin that had been on billboards all over town during his campaign, half the nightmare visage of teeth and meat that showed up on the most wanted list.

"Let's shut him down," Harvey said, happy with fate's decision.


	74. The Cause of Chaos in Everything

With her little visit to Kansas out of the way, Kala was about done dealing with confrontations. But as she and the band loaded up for Salt Lake City, she discovered that confrontation wasn't done with her.

Derek, who had been conspicuously absent the last day or so, marched up to her as they boarded the tour bus. "When we park for the night, you're giving me your phone and ID," he told her.

At first, Kala blinked. "Okay, and when did you completely lose your mind? How about _fuck no_."

He crossed his arms and glared at her, but Kala had been glared at by _professionals_ and frankly didn't care. "I'm not having you walk out on this tour like _he_ did. You won't get far without your phone or a license."

Her eyebrows went up. "Have I missed a rehearsal or a performance? No. I haven't even been _late_ , despite you having histrionics if I'm not lined up ready to go an hour early."

"Sebast was never late, either, except to breakfast. He just took off one night. I'm not losing you, too," Derek insisted. "And keeping you in will have the pleasant side effect of you not showing up all over social media slurping some guy's face."

"I have no intention of going anywhere!" Kala protested. "What, because I have a boyfriend you're freaking out? Sebast went out every night! Talk about a double standard, I got caught _once_!"

"It's not because you got caught screwing around with this scruffy guy in Denver," Derek corrected. "I'm more worried about you throwing a damn suitcase off the balcony. I've had to check a singer into rehab before, I'm not doing it this tour."

She could _feel_ her temper starting to redline. "Look, you sanctimonious prick, I told you before – we can go to the drugstore and pick up a test and I'll piss in a cup _right now_. Any time you have the balls to call me on it, 'cause I'm clean and I always have been. But the _minute_ we go there, your ass is getting on a plane back to L.A. to tell the label they need to send someone else out here. I will _not_ be treated like a goddamn child by someone who keeps acting like I'm off the rails."

"You haven't been within shouting distance of the rails since this tour started," Derek snapped at her. "Everybody told me what a dream you guys were, this was supposed to be an _easy_ run, and now I've got the co-singer walking out and you screwing around and disappearing and hotels wanting us to pay damages! This is why I don't do the punk bands, they have to act out like kindergartners on sugar all the damn time to show how bad they are!"

" _One_ instance, of _one_ suitcase going out a window, because there was a fucking _argument_ going on," Kala growled through clenched teeth. "No one's trashed anything, no one's acting out…"

"Oh, you very much are acting out, miss," Derek said, stepping into her space. "If you think throwing luggage off balconies is reasonable under any circumstances, I hate to break it to you, but you're not gonna last long in this industry. You don't make quite enough money to justify the craziness."

"It. Was. _One_ suitcase," Kala snarled.

He cut her off. "It all starts with one incident, but the next one comes pretty quick. A suitcase through a windshield here, a chair through the TV there, next thing you know you've got Keith Moon Junior on your hands. And I am _not_ having _that_."

The boys, who had been watching in horrified silence, burst out laughing at that. The suddenness of it startled Derek into looking at them, and Ned wheezed, "Dude, she chewed Morgan's ass for spilling _ketchup_ on the duvet cover!"

"Laugh it up," Derek said bitterly. "I'm the one who has to clean up after you."

"How much cleaning have you had to do?!" Kala burst out. "I'll tell you – almost none. You've been _looking_ for shit to freak out about since day one! Go fucking manage Yanni or Enya or some shit!"

"Kala, you _like_ Enya," Robb teased, and she snapped at him to shut up.

"Having to pay off the hotel and the guy whose car you damn near totaled was enough," Derek spat, and actually wagged his finger under her nose. "I've had _enough_ of you…"

Kala's tone changed abruptly, from heated exasperation to cold fury as she slapped his hand away. "Keep your goddamn hand out of my face," she warned. "You are not my father, I am not your child, and I _will not_ be spoken to this way."

The speed of the smack seemed to give him pause, and Morgan piped up with, "I'd keep out of her face, man. Kala knows the art of folding clothes with the people still in 'em."

"Do not help, Morgan," Kala growled, her gaze locked on Derek's. " _You_. Do not touch me. Do not put your hands in my face. And step the fuck _back_ , you overbearing asshole. Have you stopped to think that maybe the entire reason we've been on edge this whole tour has been _you_? We've never had an issue before, until _you_ came along nipping our heels like a Border Collie on crack, making up the dumbest shit I've ever heard. Maybe _you're_ the problem."

Derek did step back, but he still glowered at her. "Or maybe Marlene Drucker was just too busy eyeing that cleavage to pay attention to the problems…"

All three boys started yelling him down, and lucky for Derek they got between him and Kala. She seethed, fighting the urge to just unload on him the way she had with Jason, but Derek didn't have invulnerability to stand up to even one contemptuous slap. Instead she turned on her heel, walking away as the boys shouted defense of Marlene, and whipped out her phone to call Jenna.

The agent answered on the third ring, which should've told Kala how closely the label was watching, but she didn't even get through her greeting before Kala told her in a voice ringing with anger, "If this motherfucker gets in my goddamn face again – much less if he tries to shit-talk Marlene, who has more managerial skills in her fucking _toenails_ than he has in his whole miserable body – I'm gonna demand a change of manager."

"Whoa, Kala, that's…" Jenna began, and Kala overrode her.

"He damn near laid hands on me, and I won't stand for that. Fuck it, I'll boot his ass off the bus and run this shit _myself_ , Jenna. You need to get a check-rein on Derek fucking _yesterday_. I don't know what his deal is or why he's acting like a psycho, but it doesn't fucking fly. Not ever, but _especially_ not now. You guys are supposed to be handling this whole Sebast situation, _you_ told me not to worry, well Derek is not fucking helping."

"I'll talk to him," Jenna said soothingly. "Everyone's just a little stressed out."

"I'm not _doing_ anything!" Kala complained. "I so much as breathe and he breaks out! He's been like this for _months_. He accused me of doing drugs because I stayed out one night!"

"Well, they say love is a drug," Jenna said with forced joviality. "Kala, I'll talk to him. It's gonna be okay. _I_ know you're not on drugs."

"It's good to hear someone say that," Kala muttered, and realized that was exactly what was happening. Jenna was just telling her what she wanted to hear, massaging her ego so she'd go on with the tour, because if Kala walked out, no one got paid. There was no possible way for her agent to know – or, given industry standards, even care – whether she was doing drugs on not.

And despite knowing how mercenary it was, Kala still took comfort in knowing that her band had never been a problem. The boys smoked a little pot on occasion, but none of them had a DUI or possession charge, none of them had ever wrecked a room, and they were even pretty quiet on the bus.

Kala heaved a sigh. "I gotta tell you, I'm _really_ looking forward to the holiday break this time."

"I know, Kala," Jenna soothed. "Not that long now, you've just got to make it through a few more dates."

She took a deep breath; behind her, the boys had bellowed Derek into bewildered silence. "Yeah. Maybe you can send Derek off to see somebody about his paranoia. The man needs about five xanax a day, Jenna."

Her agent gasped, maybe because they'd _just_ talked about drug abuse. "I would advise you _not_ to say that to him," she told Kala firmly.

"Yeah, no, not a doctor. Just saying, he's anxious as fuck and jumping at shadows. And now I need to go get on the bus before he has another meltdown."

"Take care," Jenna said, and Kala rung off, pacing back to the boys who were still staring belligerently at Derek.

Kala fixed him with a stony glare. "You're not touching my phone or my ID. And I'll have my wallet back from the bus safe, too. You have no authority to ground me, Derek, and I won't stand for it. My _actual_ dad saw the same stupid video, and he's not even freaking out as hard as you are."

"Well…" he began, but she cut him off again.

"Then again, that's probably because my dad isn't relying on _me_ to bring in a paycheck. But you listen close, Derek – don't fuck with the goose who lays the golden eggs. The issue with me and Sebast is between me and Sebast. It doesn't mean I'm gonna flake off on you. There's nobody in this band who doesn't wanna be on this tour, me included. But I'm not gonna let _anyone_ or anything lock me up. Understood?"

"Fine," he said, and turned his back on her to board the bus.

The boys just stood there looking at her, until Robb finally said, "You know, geese are actually _really mean_."

"So am I, if I have to be," Kala said, and led the way to the bus while the boys chanted about 'cobra chickens'.

…

Jay kept checking his phone, hoping to see a new text from Kala, but it stayed on the last read message. That was _See you soon as I can_ , the end of an exchange during which she'd told him that her tour manager was freaking out and he offered to pay her bail if she kicked the guy's ass. Unfortunately, the manager's paranoia and her fellow band members' wariness after the other lead singer walked out combined to make sure she stayed in, spending quality time with them.

Not that her label was admitting that Sebast had walked out. Jay kept an eye on the news, and they were claiming he wasn't gonna be at the Salt Lake City show due to a family emergency. Risky, the man himself could refute that in a second, and the chat forums were alive with rumors. Not that Jay made a habit of reading the fan forums, he just worried about Kala, and the less she said the more he had to infer. The prevailing fan theory seemed to be that Kala was cheating on Sebast with 'that guy in Denver', and luckily for Jay's blood pressure a significant number of the fans were enthusiastically rebutting it by reminding everyone that Sebast was gay. At least it saved him the trouble of making an anonymous account of his own to blast them.

Then he realized he was contemplating getting into online arguments with a bunch of fucking teenagers over _band rumors_ , and he needed a drink. Jay had much more important shit to do, and he was _not_ gonna be that kind of stalker.

He did text Kala, just enough to tell her that the Morbast shippers were fighting the Kabast shippers on the forums, and got three texts' worth of laughing emojis. Then she told him she was trying to see him as soon as she could, and she missed him a lot. It didn't reassure him much, though. The way he figured it, Jay had probably lost her. Any day now she was gonna wake up and realize that he just brought an added layer of chaos to her already crazy life. Her father had talked sense, but her brother damn sure didn't approve. And thanks to a certain gossipy individual whose code name rhymed with Bright Ding, half the damn Titans knew the situation and were probably gasping in horror.

Tim and Dick were treating him cautiously, when they met up on patrol. They probably thought the same thing, that this with him and Kala was over, otherwise they'd be giving him hell about it. Especially Dick, who'd practically shoved Jay at Kala even though he later admitted he thought it'd never work.

Surprise, surprise, it had worked out pretty damn good, all things considered. At least until public scrutiny hit.

Jay hadn't been back to the Manor since the video came out, not wanting to deal with either razzing or pity. Dick kept texting him what was on the menu, even pictures of Alfred's lasagna, to try and tempt him back, but he wasn't ready. It had only been four days. And besides, they were busy, dammit.

Dent and Crane were scrapping it out pretty seriously now, and everyone on the roster in Gotham got a chance at the feuding gangsters. Tonight, the damn Falcones got in the middle of it somehow, and Jay could swear he recognized one of Black Mask's guys too. All they needed now was for Joker's goons to show up, that'd make the evening a complete clusterfuck. No one had heard anything about Joker, though, and Jay had to wonder if he was just waiting out the rest of the turf wars, planning to spring up and knock out the winners once they were stretched thin by all the fighting.

Joker was certainly smart enough to do that, but he generally went for the option that he considered the most fun, never what was sensible. And really, Jay needed to quit worrying about the guy who _wasn't_ here when he had three separate factions who were.

It was boys' night out tonight, Jay sliding in on the flank to assist Bruce, Tim, and Dick. Despite himself, Jay kept hoping to hear a sonic boom and a silvery laugh; Kala usually showed up in the middle of rounds, or in the middle of a fight. She'd be damn useful in this slop tonight.

Jay dropped from a rooftop and landed on one of Dent's guys, coming up ready to fight the Falcone flunky he'd been swinging at. But _that_ guy got ambushed by one of Scarecrow's people. Jay stared at the pair of them before knocking them both out. Something was _weird_ on the street, Crane's guys fought like madmen – well, crazier than the usual run of Gotham madmen, anyway. It made Jay wonder what was driving them to take these kinds of risks.

He didn't have much time for wondering, as the rhythm of the fight shifted and he got caught between five men and the side of the building. Jay broke free of it easily, but he had to actually pay attention to what he was doing … and just as he put down the last one, Dick arrived at his side.

Just watching Dick move was an education. The man was so damn graceful, a consummate athlete and acrobat, and he thought nothing of doing flips and handstands just to get from point A to point B. Combine that with his training as a fighter, and he was just fun to watch. Dick put down a guy with a sweep-kick and an escrima stick to the temple, then moved into position to cover Jay's back.

That part – having backup – hadn't gotten old yet. Maybe it never would. Jay spun into place, taking the measure of the remaining targets, and he and Dick cut through them efficiently. Batman and Red Robin took out the rest, and soon enough they had almost two dozen guys laid out and trussed up.

"Well done," Batman said, and Jay nodded to him. There really wasn't much more to say, and Oracle was in their ears letting them know the night's festivities were over. Jay turned to go, and sensed movement beside him.

He tensed, turning back, just as Nightwing reached for his shoulder. "Easy, J," Dick said. "I just … look, you got a minute to talk?"

"Is this the lecture where you tell me I'm an idiot for _actually_ chasing Blur?" Jay said harshly.

Dick sighed. "No, this is the _conversation_ where I ask how you're doing and why you're avoiding the Roost. We could switch to plainclothes and grab a beer, if you want."

Tim took one glance at them, shrugged, and disappeared into the night. Bruce was already gone. And Dick was just being his usual solicitous self. So Jay relaxed, a little, and told him, "Last time I came up to the house, Superboy damn near put a hole in the cave. Maybe I'll wait 'til the huge target on my back stops glowing neon."

"Yeah, that was a little overprotective of him," Dick replied. "B was _not_ happy about it. I think Superboy will have to be pretty careful, the next time he comes to town."

And wasn't that the weirdest thing, Bruce getting protective of Jay? He remembered seeing Bruce's hand drop to the kryptonite container on his belt. Strange to think that only a couple of years ago, he and Bruce had been beating the crap out of each other, and now he was being … a good dad. At least, as good of a dad as he knew how to be. Jay wondered, for the first time, how fucked up Bruce's concept of parenting was. He'd lost his parents young and been raised by Alfred, who clearly loved him, but who just as clearly was locked into the role of butler. Maybe some of the weird gaps in Bruce's relationship were caused by having a father figure he could technically give orders to, though Jay had seen Alfred raised a skeptical eyebrow and plead temporary deafness to some of Bruce's wilder ideas.

Jay settled for just shrugging at Dick. "What the hell, I can't blame him. If I had a sister, I wouldn't want her dating a guy like me."

Dick whacked his helmet lightly. "You never give yourself enough credit. It could be worse."

"How so?" Jay chuckled.

And Dick grinned. "You know, a month or so ago when the Titans were in town, Capespotting ran a bit about Blur being spotted with him and you in the same night. Everyone in the community dismissed it because we all know he's her brother and we _thought_ you were just her trainer. If anyone knew your real identities, though, the Capespotting crowd would take that video as an excuse to write loads of angsty love-triangle fanfic."

Jay shuddered. "Shit, she gets enough bullshit from the _band_ fic. And I've seen Capespotting's fan forums. _Once_. Never again. I can't believe people think you and Tim are knocking boots."

Dick just shook his head. "Hey, no one could believe you and Kala were. Not that I'm into Tim. I find the whole fic thing amusing, personally."

"You would. They might even be close to your actual dance card," Jay snarked, and then Oracle spoke up in their comms, informing them that the party wasn't quite over yet.

"Never a dull moment," Dick laughed, shaking his head.

"Is that why you won't stay in Blüdhaven?" Jay taunted.

"No, I just come into town to annoy you," Dick shot back, and they both headed out to the next pocket of trouble.

…

Harley swept in, humming under her breath. The latest hideout was a mark of Joker's genius: they were holed up in a former office building right on the edge of downtown, in a neighborhood where the only crime was decidedly white-collar. It even had a central courtyard for her boys to play in. No one would look for them _there_ , they were perfectly safe, and she owed it all the Joker. Just like everything else.

"Puddin'?" she sang out hopefully, her arms loaded down with shopping. That was her job, of course, and she was happy to help out. At least she could wander among the public with some foundation on and not be recognized. Besides, didn't every woman enjoy providing for her man?

He didn't answer, and after putting down the bags, she wandered through the level they were mostly living on until she heard the clicking of keys. That meant he was hard at work, and Harley left him be. Joker hated to be disturbed, it shattered his creative flow, so she hurried back to the makeshift kitchen to finish putting things away. They'd wheeled in a refrigerator and a stovetop, and the electricity here was still hooked up. It amused Harley to make breakfast in what had once been some businessman's conference room, though she wished for an oven. The urge to bake tasty things tickled the back of her brain.

Good ol' Harvey Dent was stirring things up with Dr. Crane again. Two-Face and Scarecrow facing off, and Joker had made a couple feints in Crane's direction, mostly just to get him good and angry before the inevitable showdown with Dent. In Black Mask's absence, a lot of the other players were shifting allegiances and carving up parts of the black market. Usually, Joker would be in the thick of it, and the bursts of violence on the streets whetted Harley's appetite for chaos, but this time they were lying low. All part of the plan, she figured.

It would've been nice if he'd shared his plan with her, but then, she'd probably just screw it up. Like she usually did.

Harley shut the freezer door with more force than necessary, clenching her jaw. _You almost caught the Bat by yourself, and_ _ **he**_ _stopped you,_ a voice in the back of her head whispered. _You're smarter than him. Stronger than him. Better than…_

Harley made a fist and rapped herself in the temple, wincing as stars burst across her vision. "Shut up, Pammy," she muttered. "You're gonna get me in trouble."

Speaking of all the powers in Gotham, there was a neighborhood and a park that no one else went into. The local civilians didn't seem to notice, it being a pretty rough area, but word on the street was that a certain group of blocks were to be avoided. Any mask who went in just disappeared. That was Pam, for sure, and just thinking of her made Harley's chest ache.

Stupid of her. Pam was … man, she was the closest thing to a goddess Gotham had ever seen. If she ever _really_ cut loose she'd own the town, and the Bat would end up like a certain photo Harley had seen on the internet once, of a rat trapped in a large pitcher-plant. The world would be a better, more enjoyable place if ol' Batsy got drowned and dissolved like that. The man was just so _grim_ , he had no concept of fun.

Harley needed to get the Bat _and_ Poison Ivy out of her mind. Sometimes she thought Joker could tell when she was thinking too much about her. So Harley took the last of her purchases and headed into the courtyard.

Really it was just a weedy, empty lot, but it had space and sunshine, which her babies needed. Bud and Lou bounded over to her, squeaking and chirping and wagging their stumpy tails. She caught Bud's massive head in her hands and planted a kiss on his broad muzzle, laughing as he licked her face. "Careful, baby, I don't want you gettin' sick from all this makeup," Harley chuckled.

Lou picked that moment to dart his head in from the side, also licking her face. Harley almost fell over as they barged into her, and she laughed and thwacked their powerful shoulders playfully. "Easy, boys, easy! You're gonna knock Mama over!"

The two hyenas sprang away to wrestle each other. Harley watched them with a doting smile. They grabbed at one another's forelegs delicately, releasing the grip at the first squeak of protest. In the hilarity, Lou rushed back over to Harley and seized her arm, his eyes bright, his lips pulled back in a hyena smile.

"Silly boy," Harley laughed, and scratched his back until he went cross-eyed and flopped over, kicking one hind foot. Bud, jealous, came and shoved his head under her arm until she scratched him too.

They were happy now, sprawling beside her, and Bud rolled over to let her rub his belly. Harley remembered them both as babies, tiny black cubs like funny-looking puppies. She'd bottle fed them both, bathed them, taught them to walk on leashes, and taken them damn near everywhere with her when they were little. Now that they were grown, she couldn't do that as easily – people tended to call the cops at the sight of two full-grown hyenas, even when Harley did something as innocuous as taking them out for ice cream.

Then again, maybe some of that was because the only person in Gotham running around with a pair of hyenas was Harley Quinn, the queen of crime.

She reached into the bag she'd brought, and came out with a special treat for the boys – two halves of a cow femur, with the marrow still in it. Bud and Lou started chattering again as soon as Harley unwrapped it, but she said, "Wait," until they both sat obediently. Then she handed over the bones, and Bud ran a short distance away to crunch his up.

Lou sat directly on her feet, as he had since he was a puppy, and Harley petted his back while he pulverized a bone twice as thick as any in her body. "Who's Mama's good boy?" Harley crooned. "Who's Mama's best baby boy?"

The answer, of course, was both of them … and if a shadow crossed her heart saying so, Harley wouldn't credit it. She'd learned very well what she had to ignore to survive. And at least these babies could fend for themselves. Why, even at six months of age they'd been formidable enough that none of Joker's henchmen would approach them. Only Harley handled them now, and Joker himself sometimes. But then, they respected Joker because he didn't fear them. The others were scared, or even called them ugly brutes, and the last guy who'd said so in Harley's hearing was long since dead.

Lou stopped gnawing for a moment to turn and lick Harley's hand. "Eww, Lou, you're gettin' me all bloody," she complained, and he went back to crunching through the bone with an apologetic wag.

When they were finished eating, she brought them both inside, the boys waiting at the door while she wiped their paws. Just as she was finishing Lou's, she heard Joker calling, "Harley? Are you still mooning around over those mutts?"

Both hyenas turned toward his voice, their big round ears perked up, and then they looked back at her. "Don't worry, sweethearts, Daddy's just being silly," Harley crooned, and kissed their noses before hurrying to Joker's side.

…

All had been quiet on Selina's front for a few days. Harv and Johnny Boy were mixing it up, but she kept clear of it. And Jay's pack of kids, who had thoroughly endeared themselves to her by being just as adorable and defensive as feral kittens, were well out of the way of that mess, too. Selina was happy to let the boys duke it out; direct confrontation wasn't usually her style. She'd rather operate via stealth and cunning than just beat people up in the middle of the street.

If it came to it, she could handle herself in a straight-up fight, but that was no _fun_. And as a general rule, she didn't do things she couldn't enjoy.

Like Jason Todd, she didn't check her mail very often, about once a week or so. Like him, she owned her entire building, but unlike him she let other people live there, only holding off the top three floors for herself. So she didn't pay as close attention to the mail service as he did. Then again, she wasn't as paranoid. And since she used a PO Box for all official business, she rarely got mail at her home address.

Until today, when she stopped in the lobby and found her mailbox overflowing. Selina arched an eyebrow as she tugged the jammed-in letters loose, wondering what the hell was going on. She toted it upstairs, frowning. It didn't look like junk mail…

The first letter she opened was addressed to Celina Karl, and she sneered at that. It was from Alley Cat Allies, a group she'd supported anonymously, and the text inside was effusive thanks for her recent donation.

She hadn't made one, though, and certainly not using any variant of her name. Selina read on, her expression growing more disbelieving. The letter told her how many cats she'd managed to provide veterinary care for with her generous donation of ninety grand, and subtly hinted how many _more_ she could save with another large donation. She shook her head, dismissing it as weirdness, and opened the next letter.

Which was from Bat-City Cat Rescue, another such group, this time thanking Selena Kyal for ninety grand. And as was typical of all charities, vaguely suggesting they could do more with even more, especially a repeating monthly contribution, if she were so inclined.

Sensing a theme, Selina ripped through the rest of the envelopes. Pretty soon she had a stack that suggested she had personally paid to neuter and vaccinate every feral cat for a hundred miles. Several of the dozen groups were talking about building new adoption centers, and hinting that for another donation, they'd name the facility for her.

Except no two of them had spelled her name the same way.

And none of them had spelled it _right_.

Holding a letter addressed to Serena Lile, Selina let out a sigh. Bruce had contributed to her favorite charities around her birthday, but he did it anonymously, and said it was in honor of Catwoman. And he could spell her name. This … this was deliberate.

It just so happened that ninety grand was about the cost of a Mercedes S-class sedan, like the one she'd driven into the Seine.

"Talia, Talia, Talia," Selina chuckled. "Oh, I'm gonna get you for this one. _Serena Lile_ , seriously."

She knew perfectly well that it would take months, maybe even years, to stop receiving solicitations from all the groups she'd 'helped' in this little stunt. Hell, it was a wonder Bruce wasn't looking askance at her, asking where she'd gotten over a million dollars she had no other use for than extravagant donations. Luckily he was too busy with Two-Face and Scarecrow to have noticed this embarrassment of riches.

Not like she'd ever tell him what really happened. At least, not until she'd served Talia back for this one. It _was_ kind of funny, in its way. And she took a certain satisfaction in having made the fearsome Daughter of the Demon partake in something so undignified as a _prank war_. Maybe Talia had a sense of humor that didn't involve somebody bleeding, after all.

Selina sat at the bar in her apartment, petting whichever of the cats wandered by, thinking. She had her hand buried in Norway's belly fluff, the small cat purring thunderously, when the perfect revenge occurred to her. She searched through her contacts – most of them surreptitiously obtained – and finally called a number she'd never had to dial before.

"Who is this?" a woman's voice answered, clipped and suspicious.

"Meow," Selina said. "Ms. Li, right? Listen, I know you're in a bad spot right now. How would you like to make a little money on the side, just for a piece of information you probably already have? And I promise, it won't come back at your boss."

"How did you get this number?" Ms. Li asked.

"I'm Catwoman. I stole it," Selina said. "Are you willing to play, or not?"

"What do you want?" she finally asked.

Selina grinned. This promised to be delightful. "Nothing much. Just Talia al Ghul's phone number and email address."

…

Halloween night, and Gotham was nuts as usual. Most of it died down around midnight, just drunk partygoers on the streets – the real bad guys tended to stay in, since they might get mistaken for a good costume. And there were too damn people out there dressed as heroes. The pros kept out of sight, except for Dick, who kept dropping into groups of kids and passing out candy.

Jay hadn't heard from Kala since the last round of texts three days ago —but then, he hadn't contacted her, either. When she called him up that first morning, lost in grief, his first instinct had been to bring her to his side, or go to hers, and she'd said it was impossible. That had been a week ago. Even now, he knew that was the sensible answer. But her absence hurt in ways he tried not to think about, and he wasn't sure what to say to her now. Or what she might say to him.

So he let it ride, keeping busy, and decidedly not thinking about the red gleam in Superboy's eyes when he'd come busting into the Batcave in a froth of fraternal rage. Or the way Superman had looked at Bruce, asking if _he'd_ known.

 _You're an idiot. You knew what would happen if they all found out. The Supers damn sure don't want their little princess knocking boots with the big bad Red Hood. And if it comes to that, your own family doesn't want you messing with her. Now that the news is out, you shouldn't be surprised that she doesn't wanna give you the time of day. It was always about keeping a secret, having something that was just ours, the fun of putting one over on the Bat and Big Blue, too. And now that it's not anymore, well, it's over._

Ah well. It had been a fun ride. Jay told himself he wasn't moping, and let himself get sucked into the computer, following transactions and tracing various bad guy's activities.

It was just after two, the end of rounds, when someone knocked on the door. Jay froze, staring toward it. No one ever knocked at his door; not in this neighborhood, and especially not in the middle of the damn night.

He was Jason Todd; there was always a weapon within reach. Jay reached underneath the desk, finding the reassuring grip of a Glock there. And then he waited, tensed and ready.

The knock came again. "Trick or treat!" a female voice called. "Mostly treat!"

Jay frowned, staring. No one was _that_ drunk. He quickly brought up the surveillance cams on the computer; no way was he gonna use the peephole and put himself in range.

What he saw on the camera was completely unexpected. That was _Kala_ standing out there, made up to the nines, wearing a hat from the pizza chain uptown that had just closed.

And to complete her 'costume', she had a pizza in hand.

What the hell?

Jay left the gun and went to the door, taking the chain off and unlocking all the locks, then opening it. "K?"

Just the way that she met his eyes told him that she hadn't expected him to talk to her, let alone greet her. "Hi," she said, with a sparkly purple-lipped smile. A nervous smile. She looked anxious and tired and oddly thin despite the make-up, as if some of her essential vibrancy had bled out somewhere. "Happy Halloween. Just wanted to check in. I brought pizza. Meat lover's. Figured you could use something to eat. And it would probably be harder to ignore me if I had food."

For a moment he could only blink. In all his brooding and not-thinking, it had never occurred to Jay that she might be as worried about him as he was about her. That she might be wondering if he was going to let everything slip between his fingers, the way he feared she was doing. He'd told Babs he wasn't giving up just because they'd been found out … but he hadn't told Kala. She didn't want to assume any more than he had. He found his voice. "Yeah. Yeah, sounds good. Come in."

Kala sidled past him, carrying the pizza, and something else occurred to him. "If you wanted to bring me something to eat, you didn't have to bother with pizza. Just show up."

Her head snapped around, her glance incredulous, and for a second Jay thought he'd overstepped somehow, even after all that had passed between them at this point. Her dark-rimmed hazel eyes widened, then the light came back into them carefully, slowly, wonderingly. He saw that light and let her see it in his own, and the haze of worry lifted from her. You could actually see the relief come flooding in. Then Kala broke into a broad, wicked grin, one he knew and cherished. "I'm dessert."

Just like that, they were back in the groove. "Oh yeah? You know what the best part of being the bad brother is?"

Those eyes of hers were gleaming now, the fire sparking back to life even as he watched. That was _his_ girl there, full of deviltry. "Your partner brings you pizza when you haven't spoken to her in two days as a peace offering because her twin is a nosy idiot?" Kala replied matter-of-factly, raising her eyebrow.

Jay swept her into his arms, dropping the pizza box onto the nearest table. "Three days, dammit. And I get to eat dessert first, if I wanna."

And to his joy, Kala laughed.


	75. See If I Dare Speak Your Name

As had happened so many times in the last few months, from the the moment she stepped off the plane in Gotham City, Kala hadn't known what to expect when she had flown in tonight. But she couldn't just leave things the way they were. Absolutely nothing in her life felt anchored, everything painfully adrift. Everything had been complete chaos since Sebast had cornered her in the hotel room a week ago, her equilibrium wrecked utterly ever since. Yelling and tears had been the modes she'd lived in once that video had gone online, starting with Sebast walking out on her and ending with smacking her brother down for confronting Jay, in the _Batcave_ and in front of the rest of his _family_ , of all the things.

Nothing made sense. And the one thing that might have was on the other coast and practically a world away, in the scheme of things as they played out.

There shouldn't have been so much a delay in getting hold of him, especially with her family having stuck their noses in it, but Kala was a coward and wasn't ready for this to be over so quickly. Rejection from Jay was just not something she could handle in the hurricane that was currently her life. But God knew he was within his rights to just wash his hands and be done. But being alone on Halloween, forever her and Sebast's favorite night of the year, was too much for Kala to stand. No matter what it cost her, she was going to Gotham, regardless of the outcome. She'd lost Sebast, to thoughtlessness, to silence, maybe doomed it for good; she wasn't going to lose the other without a fight. She had to know. The pizza girl trick-or-treat had been a shot in the dark; knowing his security, that could have been literal, but at least he'd opened the door.

Only Jay went one step further, snatching her up and holding her as if nothing had happened. Like no one else had found out, as if they hadn't faced several confrontations and warnings. Even after all of that, he wasn't throwing her out and locking the door behind her. In light of the things Sebast had said, to hear Jay growling in her ear was all the sweeter. Despite herself, Kala let herself curl into him a little tighter. _Oh, thank God._ "You sure I'm still sweet enough to make the effort? The last little while considered?" she whispered, trying to sound more flip than she felt at the moment. Relief, absolutely sweet freaking relief, nearly overwhelmed her.

Jay laughed and nipped her ear. "Are you kiddin' me? As sweet as _you_ are? And with that sweet Kryptonian ass in the bargain?" One hand dropped to her rear and squeezed for emphasis.

So bound up in the myriad of emotions bombarding her, she hadn't even seen that coming. Wide-eyed, Kala yipped with surprise, shooting him a disbelieving look, swatting his shoulder and laughing. "Jay!"

"What?" He was laughing, but then he paused and Kala saw his expression go serious. "I mean, you didn't come back to say goodbye, did you?"

"Hell no," was her automatic response, and then she bit her lip. There was the thing she had been so frightened of right there, spoken back to her in his question. It rocked her to admit it: she had been deep-down scared that he was going to get smart and push her away. Kala glanced away from him for a beat, struggling not to let her worried frown show. "I mean, you answered the door, right? It couldn't just be for the pizza." Oh, it was so hard to look back at him, wondering just how much he could see there. Whistling past the graveyard again. She almost hadn't expected him to answer, even though she could hear him inside.

"Of course not," Jay replied. "Seriously, K. I knew it was you before I came to the door—this _is_ the Bowery, and I've got cameras. If it'd just been a random drunk trick or treater, I might've fired a warning shot."

That got a scoffing laugh. Bruce and Babs would be so proud, if they weren't ready to kill her. "A warning shot, huh? Nice to know I've been a good influence in a few small ways."

"Yeah, normally I'd just cap whoever it was, but then I thought I might get blood in the pizza, so…" Jay shrugged.

As always, even in this sort of situation, he was absolutely, irrepressibly Jason Todd. Kala thumped his shoulder again, huffing out another laugh. She couldn't help the smile that rose from her lips. She had survived the week, all the madness, and she had made it back to Gotham. God help her. "You're impossible, you smooth-taking asshat."

"No, _you_ are. You're the human-Kryptonian hybrid fighting crime in Gotham City, and spending time with Red Hood. That's pretty fucking impossible."

"I happen to like _sharing time_ with Red Hood. _Spending_ sounds like I'm at a loss for it." She'd said it before she meant to, and it hurt a little in its truth, but once it was out, Kala plunged on. Too late to turn back now. "He may be a goddamn ass-grabbing _caveman_ , but he's worth the exception, I think. He's proving himself to be a pretty decent guy, all around, much to my _great_ surprise." She caught his eye willfully this time, skewering him with her most evil smirk.

It was all whistling in the dark, and she felt like they knew it, both of them spooked by the revelation of their relationship to the whole freaking world and what it would mean. As she had hoped, Jay finally kissed Kala, smiling. "Yeah, I like _sharing time_ with you, too. Princess complex and overprotective brother and all."

Just thinking about it make her stomach tie up in knots again. Of all the ridiculous displays, of all of the ways Jase could have gone about acting like a psycho... And the sheer amount of apologies that needed to made because of it felt daunting. Kala groaned as they leaned their foreheads together. "Yeah, about that. Sorry. Lizardboy has kind of a complex of his own. He's been reminded of the errors of his ways, not that he wanted to hear it. Seriously, I'm sorry, Red. I had no idea he was going to do that. But, really, I should have known."

Jay shrugged. "You're his sister. I'd probably kick the ass of anyone trying to hook up with my sister, if I had one."

"You have no idea. This is his usual hazing of anyone that I'm involved with at all. He's also had a big-brother complex, even if it's only by a minute and a half. He's tried to intimidate all my boyfriends to evaluate. Guess he didn't get the memo that we're twenty-four in a few weeks," Kala sighed, thinking. "But to be fair, I was pretty good about warning off his girlfriends. It's not like there were that many, though. And I guess it works out. At least you only had to deal with Jason. I had to deal with Sebast." They both fell silent at that, Kala feeling that wave of loss rising before forcefully shoving it away. Not now, not tonight. It had been eating at her all week; Sebast had walked away, so he could just wait in fucking line. With an aggravated sigh of frustration, Kala pushed on. "But, on a lighter note … I raised enough hell that I managed to get two whole days off." That made her pause, having never been able to offer that much, suddenly self-conscious of what she was offering. "I could stay around a little if, you know, you want me underfoot for that long."

His eyes lit up, and the look of stunned joy on his face was clearly not feigned. "Are you fucking kidding me? Of _course_ I want you around that much!" That was more than she could have hoped for this entire night. Kala gave a startled laugh, her eyes sparkling, and Jay looked a little abashed at how much his enthusiasm had given away. He tried to cover up by adding, "You know how much sex we can have in two days?"

 _Oh, yeah, sure. Nice try, Mr. Hood. Gotcha_. She just shook her head, not quite hiding her grin at both thoughts. _Love you, too_. Completely unbidden, that last caught Kala by surprise, catching her breath before she stifled it with her most deadpan expression. Not the time. God, _so_ not the time. "You know you're patently ridiculous, right?" she said blandly, arching a brow at him.

"You're the one who keeps coming back for more." Jay watched her for a moment, then smiled. "So … we gonna eat that pizza?"

For days, Kala had been hearing Sebast in her head, yelling about how stupid she was for doing this. There was no way he had any real clue of what was involved with her and Jay, but the echo just went on and on. And all it did was make her more defiant. But she'd been afraid that Jay would give her the cold shoulder, that he might decide nothing was worth her level of drama. The fact that he could be fairly chill about it was a balm to her soul.

Kala leaned into him, taking strength from his presence. This was the welcome she'd been hoping for after all of the negativity that had been swarming. Who would have guessed that Jay would be so calm about the whole thing? Flashing him a warm, teasing smile, she looked up at him with wide eyes that played at an innocence she didn't quite feel. "Hey, wait, I thought you said you wanted dessert first?"

That brought back Jay's smile. "Yeah. Yeah, I did. But do you?"

By way of answer, Kala kissed him, her knowing laughter muffled. Jay answered the kiss with his hands roaming her sides. She sighed against his mouth, letting her hands curl into his shirt. Even if she dared not voice them, there was more than one way to tell him all of the terrifying and dangerous words that were tangled into her brain and her heart. As they had been since that night in August, as simple and honest as they were capable of being, in ways that couldn't be denied. There was more to them than this, she knew there was, but there was no misunderstanding things in his arms. This was what she needed to dispel the worry and grief. Just to lose herself in him, in _them_. Everything else could wait.

And Jay seemed perfectly willing to help her with that. The pizza was forgotten as he picked her up, Kala laughing at his strength, and carried her to the bed. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the computer still up and wondered for a split second what he'd been up to when she arrived.

The next moment, she didn't have time or inclination to wonder at anything except Jay's sudden presence, practically swarming over her. His stubble rubbing her neck as he nuzzled and kissed her, his hands gliding over her sides, his weight atop her in all the right ways. "Missed me just a little, huh?" Kala laughed, just letting the rush of nerves and hormones lull the world outside this apartment into unreality for now.

Jay's wolf-blue eyes shone with mischief before he ran his hands up under the shirt she wore, dragging it higher to bare her stomach. "Oh yeah," he laughed back. And then paused, looking down at her with a smirk. "Hey, are you paying me for this trick? Or are you the treat?"

"Jay!" she yipped, whacking his shoulder. Leave it to him to take the comment at face-value. The good news was that he was being a nonchalant idiot on the topic, which was progress if he could joke with her now. "Don't be an asshole. What you're rather pointedly _offering_ against my hip would be the treat, of course." Aiming a rather pointed look at him, she smirked. "It would be impolite to refuse the gracious hospitality, especially tonight. And I wasn't brought up a heathen, as you well know."

"Damn right," he chuckled, which set her off, and kissed her belly. Half-playful kisses, as if he were drunk on her nearness.

That tickled, and Kala squirmed, tugging at his hair with a squeak of objection. Ooh, she hated that! "Jay! Knock it off, you lazy, scruffy bastard! Scrape your face!"

"You're ticklish?" At that realization, Jay rubbed his cheek against her smooth skin, deliberately tickling her with the stubble. Kala thrashed, shrieking with laughter, and strong as he was, Jay couldn't hold her down.

He could, however, grab hold of the waistband of her jeans and yank her back to him as she was on the verge of getting away. "Nope, not done with you yet," he informed her, and mercifully stopped tickling … only to unbutton and unzip the jeans in swift, fluid movements. All of a sudden Kala stopped feeling ticklish and playful, a hot flush rising along her skin. The whole world narrowed even further then: her, him, and this bed, heat roaring through her blood in an instant. Her breath came faster as Jay tugged the jeans down, bringing the panties down too.

That rocked her back completely, eyes closed, as she let him move her where he wanted her. Oh, she'd make sure to stake her claim later, make sure he got his, but for now, she was not in the slightest inclined to stop or even slow him down. Well, except for one thing. "Boots first," Kala managed to whisper, but he wasn't listening. Jay managed to haul the tight denim down past her knees, and that was clearance enough for him. He leaned forward and pressed a rough kiss to the inside of her thigh. Before she could protest further, he'd turned his face and his tongue was running along the velvety seam of her sex.

The world exploded, sudden and stronger than she expected, and then she was drowning. Kala groaned aloud; ever since the moment that stupid fucking video had hit the press, she'd worried she might never have this again. Jay's strength and wildness, the heat of his desire and the kinder warmth of his regard, the way his calluses dragged at her skin and the softness of his hair twined around her fingers. She sighed as he began to lick and kiss her, gentle yet insistent.

From that second on, Kala stopped worrying about everything else, and just let her body and soul answer everything Jay was doing to her.

…

Jesus fucking Christ, she was too damn good. Jay had been planning to tease a bit before pulling the jeans the rest of the way off, but when Kala started to whimper and arch her back, he stopped caring. He could get them far enough out of his way to let him work, and it wasn't like she needed all that much freedom to move right now.

Although it would've been nice to have her legs draped over his shoulders and her thighs squeezed tight around his ears…

…maybe in a minute. Right now Jay was too busy showing Kala how glad he was to have her back. The little flick of his tongue she liked so much, and then tasting her deep. Kala was already breathless, both hands buried in his hair, and when he backed off a little she yanked him back with a needy whimper. Even though his scalp burned, he smiled fiercely. Fuck yeah, they could handle a little publicity. Let those fuckers from Capespotting get a picture like this, though, and he'd firebomb their fucking office.

" _God,_ Jay," Kala moaned, rocking her hips in a hastening rhythm. No more haughty princess, no more snarky diva, no more good little girl, this was a hot, horny as hell woman practically riding his face even though he had her pinned down. And that always revved her up, being manhandled, but it wasn't like he could _seriously_ restrain her. Not with all her powers active.

Still, she _let_ him pin her, let him _take_ her, and his own pants were getting too tight with that thought. Fuck, he wanted to make her come but he wanted to be in her but he wanted this right now, just like this, shifting his arms so he could get one hand underneath and slip two fingers into her heat. Then there was a faint rip of stressed fabric as Kala managed to get one knee over his shoulder despite her jeans. Well, that settled it, Jay was gonna finish her like this once before he got any for himself—and if she kept moaning like that he might go off before he ever got his fly unzipped.

Her voice, a litany of his name interspersed with "oh God" and "yes, _fuck_ , yes, _please_ ," was enough to give anybody a superiority complex. Nothing felt like this, like making Kala writhe under his mouth. And then she tensed, whimpering, back arched sharply and hips thrusting up hard. For a few seconds Jay couldn't breathe and didn't care, totally focused on what he was doing to her.

" _Jay!_ " Kala cried out, nearly a scream, and he could feel her hands on his hair, shaking with the force of it.

And then she uncurled, tension blown out, giving a deep moan as satisfaction swept over her. Fuck, she was perfect—and _his_. Not caring that his face was wet from cheekbones to chin, Jay sat up just long enough to yank his shirt off, paw his fly open, shove his jeans and boxers down, grab a condom…

…Kala must've seen the need in his eyes, because she broke out the super-speed to get the boots off before he starting tearing at her jeans. Tossing them aside, leaving her shirt for her to deal with, Jay maneuvered between her thighs and caught her knees, pulling her up to him just as she got the shirt off. The bra was still on, but he didn't care, he needed her _now_ , and drove into her with a groan that was almost pained.

A throaty moan came from Kala, her long leg curling around his hips. "Oh God, you… _Fuck_ , you feel good. You _always_ feel so good." She was still over-sensitive, he knew, every movement he made making her see stars. Gripping his shoulders, she gave herself over to his desperation. Those eyes on his, darkened and full of dazed heat. "Come on, come on. There's time. Oh God, Jay … there's time. I'm not … I'm not going anywhere," she whimpered against his ear. "God, does it feel like I'm going anywhere?" Those husky words driving the fire higher, Kala yanked his head down for a searing kiss and tightened down on him suddenly. Not enough to send him over, just enough to make him gasp.

The kiss and that intimate squeeze were almost enough to end it too soon. Goddamn did Kala ever know how to get to him! Jay slid one arm under and across her body, gripping her shoulder, and thrust even harder. "Definitely not going anywhere," he growled, pulling her closer with each thrust. "Wouldn't let you; you wouldn't want to. But … always time for seconds…." Goddamn, she felt too fucking good to resist, and the beautiful thing was, he could take Kala like this, rough as he could ever want, and not only not hurt her, but still lean down to press his forehead against her shoulder as he groaned and drove into her.

"So hot … so sweet … God, so fucking good." Jay gasped, trying too late to hold off, wanting her to come one more time before he did. The look of her when she climaxed, Kala's head thrown back and the long pale column of her throat bared, was always a revelation to him. Invulnerable and powerful and yet so needy, so unashamed of her desire, so willing to bare herself to him. What the hell did he _ever_ do to deserve a woman like her? Must've been pretty goddamned good, whatever it was.

And yes, oh yes, Kala gritted her teeth as she bucked beneath him, striving to hold back, trying not to let him win. Jay laughed—only with her did he _laugh_ in bed—and just rode her harder, knowing she couldn't resist. A moment later and there, right there, her thighs tightened around him hard enough to bruise his hips, ankles crossed and legs pulling him even deeper in. Just the way he wanted.

Kala's eyes shot open, wide and wild, and he saw her pupils dilate as it swept up over her. " _Jay!_ " she cried, calling his name over and over, her nails raking his back as she came. Jay didn't care. The way she pulsed around him, the way she whimpered and moaned, it was all just too much. Lightning in his body, behind his eyes, surging down and out and through both of them.

For a moment he wished he could've held back and watched her, enjoyed the show, but she was too goddamn hot and he couldn't fucking resist. Jay howled as he came, a deep throaty sound of lust and fulfillment and claiming.

Both of them collapsed into a tangled sweaty panting heap, Jay grinning even as aftershocks rippled through him. "Hot damn," he muttered, still too tired do more than dispose of the used condom just yet.

It took a little while for Kala to get her breath back, and when she chuckled it was extra-husky. "So much for the worry that you'd snatch the pizza and slam the door in my face," she teased.

"Oh, right, you brought pizza," Jay muttered, perking up. He had beer in the fridge, too. Standing up, despite still being a little shaky in the knees, he strolled into the foyer naked to grab the pizza.

Behind him, Kala started laughing. "Jay!"

"What?" he called back, heading for the fridge.

He could hear her laugh disbelievingly from bed, but felt her gaze on him as he went. " _Jay_. I know we didn't talk about this part yet, but the tabloids got pictures of us out of uniform at a club. There's been fallout. Everybody in our families, and with our luck the caped community, knows what we're doing. Both our families are freaking out. And you're like, 'oh hey, you brought pizza'. Really?!"

He came back with the pizza box, a beer, and one of those ciders still left over from her last visit, already munching a slice of pizza. "No, I was like, 'hot damn she came back, better show my appreciation' and _then_ I remembered pizza. I need some calories to replace the ones I just burned fucking you."

Kala dropped her head into her hands, and Jay couldn't resist. He smacked her butt lightly, making her yip. "Sit up and eat. I'll need a minute for round two."

That got her moving, despite the disgruntled pouty look. Narrow-eyed, his girl sat up, tossing her hair out of the way, and took the cider from him. "I cannot believe this is how you're reacting," Kala finally said, watching his face carefully. Oh, yeah, this was totally why she'd delayed texting. "I mean, not that I'm not relieved and I know I probably ought to let it go, but my idiot brother broke into the Batcave and threatened you, _everybody_ knows, and you're chill. I mean, I'm sure the sex helped, but you, Mr. Determined-to-Keep-My-Ass-Low-Profile, don't give a fuck? As glad as I am, I'm tempted to call bullshit."

"I just gave a fuck, and a pretty nice one too." She groaned and Jay shrugged. "You think I care what my family thinks? And as long as yours are gonna refrain from flash-frying my dick off, I don't care what they think either. The gossip page sucks, but only a handful of people know that was me, and none of them have said anything, so it'll die down eventually. No, I'm just happy _you_ came back." And he clamped down on that with another bite of pizza and swill of beer before he could say something he would regret.

There was silence for a few minutes, both of them concentrating on their food, before she looked over at him very seriously. Despite what had been said when she'd first come in, despite the last twenty minutes, she still looked quietly amazed when she shook her head slightly. "Are you serious?" Kala asked softly. "You really don't care? I thought you'd be pissed that was in the paper."

"Yeah, I kinda am, but what can ya do? Wasn't your fault, K. Besides, I thought _you'd_ wanna sweep _me_ under the rug. I'm the one who could ruin your rep, y'know." And there, he'd said it, the words tumbling out unguarded the way that only happened around her.

Kala cut him a look he couldn't understand, surprise and a little hurt and something else. "I told you before: never happen, Jay. Never. I'm not leaving just because they all know. You're _not_ my dirty little secret. The last thing I am is ashamed of you, so get that out of your head. You _were_ my secret for a while, but that wasn't… I just liked having something that was only _mine_. Something I didn't have to share for once in my life."

Well. That wasn't at all what he'd expected. Jay looked at her thoughtfully, taking another pull from his beer. "I like that," he finally said, and turned to grope for his cigarettes on the side table. "Y'know, I liked it being just between us, too, but now … no sense bitching about it. Done is done. And somehow you decided to come back despite everything, so the least I can do is show you a proper Todd welcome. Want a smoke?" He offered her the pack.

Kala laughed, shaking her head, and took one of his menthols. "Yeah, well, I kind of had to admit to you. Why run off now? At least we don't have to slink around." She lit the cigarette with a glance of her heat vision.

"Slinking around was fun. But you know what? Getting busted kinda sucked. Everyone's being so nice 'cause they think I lost ya." His eyes flashed fire for a second.

"Only you didn't." Kala only smirked, but her eyes were warm when she touched his cheek. There was that mischievous little grin of hers that flashed in warning as she got to her knees and then slipped onto his lap. With him momentarily distracted, she snagged his pizza slice and finished the last bite at speed. Just smiling insolently, she added, "So maybe we should do something about that sometime, you think?"

"Maybe we should," Jay replied, a plan already forming. But then she had leaned in for another kiss and curled in close, arching slightly into him, and more immediate plans came to mind.

…

Dinah had fallen asleep to Babs on her phone, and she woke to the same sight. Sometimes she wondered if Babs ever slept, but then, even the mighty Oracle got caught napping once in a while. Dinah smiled and rolled over, snuggling up to her side. "What's so captivating?"

"Kala learned her lesson back in August; she checked in last night even though she was coming in after patrol was over," Babs replied.

That got Dinah to sit up. "So she and Jay are still on despite the publicity?"

"Looks that way. She never checked out." Babs grinned salaciously. "I was just talking to Alfred. He's doing french toast. What do you say we drop in for breakfast at the Manor?"

"And tell them all Kala's back in town?" Dinah asked dubiously.

Babs chuckled. "If I know Jay, he plans on telling them all himself. I just want to watch the show."

"You're _terrible_ ," Dinah groaned, but she had to admit that sounded like Jay's level of brazenness. And Alfred's french toast was legendary.

…

Kala woke up out of a sound sleep the next morning, gasping, to the insistent prodding of Jay's fingers against her shoulder. Although it took her hearing his voice to register that it _was_ actually Jay. "Come on, get up, we're gonna miss breakfast," he said.

For a moment she could only stare at him, her hair mussed and her eyes only half-open. Breakfast? Here? He couldn't have cooked. Sunlight beaming through the window, but not as strongly as she was used to. What time was it? Had to be mid-morning, maybe. And the last thing Jay wasn't was a regular early riser. So why was he on about breakfast? "Whuh?" she asked helpfully, trying to angle into the light and make sense of things. So much for sleeping in together this morning.

Jay was practically bouncing with impatience. "Alfred just texted me. He's making french toast. If we hurry we can get to the Manor in time. Now stop looking adorably rumpled and throw some clothes on."

Again, she could only look at him in bemusement. Adorably rumpled? Kala personally thought she must look like a train wreck. Up all night wrecking the bed, only getting the worst of the makeup all in the shower in the early hours, and her hair probably looked like a bird's nest—yeah, 'rumpled' fit, but she probably looked more abominable than adorable.

The idea of breakfast by Alfred was incentive enough to get up, though, and she headed into the bathroom. Though she had to admit to butterflies in her stomach at the thought of facing everyone. Especially Uncle Bruce, who she was pretty damn sure was still more than a bit put out over the unauthorized entry to the Cave. Closing the door on a sigh, Kala prepared herself for the inevitability. It wasn't as if she could never look them in the eye again. Besides, Jay had dealt with her father and brother. She owed it to him to roll with it, most especially because she fully intended to keep running here. Besides, she was a Super; she could handle this level of trolling without breaking a sweat.

It was only then that she glanced in the mirror and groaned. Yep, Jay was either blind or soothing her ego, though most likely he was utterly distracted by french toast; simply put, she looked as wrecked as the bed. A quick wash-up and makeup adjustment with the essentials she always carried in her bag, plus a brush run through her washed hair, and she looked halfway presentable. The small clothes stash they had decided should be kept over here helped immensely, too. That was another pair of jeans he owed her.

As she stepped out of the bathroom to find Jay already dressed and ready, an evil little thought occurred to her. Raising both eyebrows at him, she remarked, "Okay, so, let's make sure we know what we're doing here. I show up at breakfast after all that's happened, you know they're gonna figure out we're still on. Detectives and all that. We can't play this off at all, we'll have no more plausible deniability."

"Fuck deniability. I _want_ 'em to know," he replied, grabbing his car keys.

That was just what she wanted to hear. Kala arched a brow, then grinned and stripped off the shirt she was wearing. If they were going to do this, she was going to make the most of it. Before Jay could start bitching about wasting time again, she said archly, "Gimme me one of yours, Red."

He smirked wickedly, and actually found something in a drawer that was guaranteed to be clean. Jay tossed it to her; a Megadeth concert shirt from somewhere, much too big for Kala, but it made the relationship blatantly obvious. "Perfect. Now c'mon, let's ride. We might miss it, even as fast as I drive."

"So forget the car," Kala said, and caught his hand, tying her hair up in an elastic as another thought occurred to her. In for a penny, in for a pound. "C'mon, let's _fly_ in if you really wanna make a statement."

Jay didn't especially like flying with her; it was a control thing, she supposed. But the seductive call of stuffed french toast overcame all obstacles, and he grinned. "Let me lock the doors, Princess, and we'll do it your way."

At Kala's speed, they landed just outside the kitchen door only a minute after Jay set the last tripwire. He knocked and then opened it, strolling in like he owned the Manor. "Morning, Alfred," Jay called.

"Good morning, Master Jason," the butler replied with a smile … that broadened as Jay stepped aside and Kala came into view. "And good morning, Miss Kala. So glad you could join us."

Any of the butterflies she might have been feeling in her stomach took flight at the genuine warmth in Alfred's smile. Truly, he was one of the reasons that hiding all of this had bothered her deep down. She had a pretty good feeling that they might just have the older man's blessing. And that meant a lot right now. "Me too, Alfred," Kala replied, walking up and kissing his cheek. "I missed you."

When she turned toward the table, where Jay was chivalrously pulling out a chair for her, Kala saw identical looks of disbelief on the faces of Tim and Dick. Babs just looked smug; beside her, Dinah rolled her eyes. Bruce wasn't downstairs yet. Kala cut Jay an amused look as she sat down, not expecting a full family breakfast, and then she grinned at the boys with a certain degree of amused contempt. Especially Tim. "What, you two thought I was never coming back?"

Tim huffed. "Well. I should've known you wouldn't listen to your brother."

"Nope, never do. Not about boys anyway. And he certainly never listened to me over girls, either, until the last one. So we're even, aren't we, Timmy?" Kala cut her eyes at him, still pissed off about Jason's blustering.

"Well, _I'm_ glad to see you," Dick said, grinning in his usually contagious way, both dimples on full display.

That had been one of the other reactions she'd been dreading; as usual, though, the eldest of the Robins surprised her. And Kala couldn't help being ridiculously grateful. It was good to know that they had allies in the house on this one. Having Dick and Alfred in their corner evened the odds on any other foolishness from the household. "I'm glad to see you, too. It kinda sucked to be playing keep-away, but we thought it was necessary. God news is, I guess I can stop now." Kala gave him a genuine grin; of course Dick 'shipped it.

Then she turned her attention to Babs. While she knew very well that Babs had approved until a week ago, there were no real way of knowing for sure what she was thinking of their situation now. Readying herself for any potential salvo, Kala asked with a raised brow, "Well, Original Troll? Did you have a bet riding on whether I'd show my face or not?"

"No, I just really like french toast," Babs chuckled. "And watching you two play cutesy." At that, Kala couldn't help but softly snort laughter.

"I've never been cutesy in my life," Jay growled.

"She's wearing _your_ shirt," Dinah pointed out. "I might believe Kala listens to Megadeath, but that's six sizes too big for her."

Well, if they were going to go there… "Well, to be fair, what I had on last night is a little worse for wear," Kala shot back.

"Don't elaborate," Dinah laughed, while Babs just shook her head at Jay's sharklike grin.

Meanwhile Jay turned a malicious smile on Tim, entirely too happy with the situation. "What's up with Bruce? He fall off a building last night or something? He's never this late."

"Or something," Tim sighed.

That was the moment when a black cat leaped up onto the table, sniffed the coffee mug Alfred put down in front of Jay, and then walked over to Kala. Its tail stood straight up with an interrogative quirk at the end, and its bright green eyes were full of curiosity. "Well, good morning," Kala said, offering her fingers for the cat to sniff. It obligingly rubbed its cheek against her hand, and Kala started scratching it behind the ears. "Aren't you a pretty one? Guys, when did you get a cat?"

"Oh, I don't live here, I just visit." The woman's voice came from behind her, and Kala turned around to see a pretty blonde with short hair and eyes the same shade of green as the cat's. Alfred handed her a glass of milk, and she moved away from the door toward Kala. "So you're the girl, hmm? They had you pegged with the wrong brother this summer, didn't they? Quite a pretty one yourself." Amusement danced in her eyes as she regarded Kala.

"Hi, Selina," Jay said, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, this is Kala. Kala, this is Selina. Better known as—"

"Catwoman," Kala finished for him. The cat on the table mewed, and used Kala's shoulder as a springboard to leap to its mistress' arm. That made Kala laugh at feline presumptuousness, glancing up at Selina with a equally sunny smile. Dad had talked about her from time to time; while never quite approving of her profession, he had said more than once that she was actually a good influence on Bruce and it was for Bruce to decide where she was concerned. Mom, however, loved the irony of their relationship. Needless to say, Lois Lane approved. "I think I might've heard a little bit about her somewhere. Absolutely not sure where. Hi."

The cat rubbed its cheek against Selina's as she sat down next to Kala, and she purred in unison with it. "And you're better known as the Blur, of course. Lucky for me you don't bother with little thieves like me. Isn't that right, Miss Kitty?"

" _Little_ thieves?" Jay scoffed. "Yeah right, Selina. Like we don't know where the Sekhmet amulet went last year. State of the art security, armed guards everywhere, laser tripwires, the works. Damn thing went missing in broad daylight."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Selina purred, scratching Miss Kitty's back. Alfred began to carry out plates of french toast stuffed with sweet cream and covered in strawberries, and the boys sprang up to help.

As Kala and the boys teased back and forth, Alfred finished serving them all, and promptly started making up another plate. Kala thought for a second it was for himself, and then she saw Bruce walking in.

And what a sight he was! His hair tousled, his eyes half-closed, still wearing pajamas and a bathrobe, and with a very obvious hickey on the side of his neck. Kala's jaw dropped, and Selina chortled amusement as Miss Kitty paced up the table toward him. "Good morning, Master Bruce," Alfred said, and everyone chorused a good morning too.

Bruce caught the extra voice, and swiveled his head like an owl to look at Kala. She just laughed. "Well, hi, Uncle Bruce. Is this how you come to breakfast when I'm not here?"

He blinked at her, his expression making it clear that he hadn't expected her back, which made Jay snicker. And then Bruce said in a gravelly voice, "Considering you're wearing Jason's shirt, I wouldn't point fingers."

"Ooooh," Dick said, waggling his eyebrows.

"Oh, it was _that_ obvious? Well, I have been told," Kala laughed, as if that hadn't been the entire point. "I'm just going to sit here and finish my french toast before I'm ordered out without them. That's me, not saying a word."

"Forgive him, darling, he had a long night and he's not getting any younger," Selina purred. When Bruce cut her an unamused look, she just smirked at him. He turned to receive his coffee and french toast, and then sat down at the head of the table, nudging Miss Kitty aside. The cat promptly tried to drink from his coffee mug, and would not leave until Bruce nudged her away. She stalked away offended, wove around Jay's plate, and went back to Kala.

"No french toast for you, beautiful, carbs aren't good for cats," Kala said, stroking the cat's back.

"I hope you like the taste of cat hair," Tim grumbled.

"She only sheds on people who annoy her," Selina said. "Which is why Bruce doesn't own a light gray suit anymore."

Kala chuckled, eating one-handed while Miss Kitty purred under her hand. Jay was asking Selina archly where the rest of her herd of cats was currently stashed, when Kala's fingers encountered a metal collar around Miss Kitty's neck. She lifted it slightly, noticing it felt heavier than a normal collar…

… and caught sight of the diamond bracelet, which seemed familiar to Kala somehow. It took a moment to place it, then she turned a surprised look on the blonde beside her.

What a contrast this morning was that one. The boys were amused by Selina, and she had a very feline playfulness to her, something the Manor badly needed in Kala's opinion. Free-moving and inquisitive and friendly, completely unlike Talia's reserved demeanor and the contained sense of threat radiating from her. Kala found herself liking Selina on short acquaintance; she'd been mostly indifferent to Talia, and had since learned enough to dislike her.

Miss Kitty leaned into Kala's hand, and she looked over at Selina with her eyebrows up. "Um, nice collar."

"Thanks," Selina said with a smirk. "It was a generous compensation for running an errand."

Bruce scoffed, and of course everyone else at the table took a closer look. Dick was the next to recognize it. "Holy… Selina, did you steal that from _Talia_?"

"She shouldn't have made me bring that jump drive full of Roman's financials over here," Selina argued. "Especially because I know she only did _that_ to make sure that I knew Brucey-boy here went to see her right after he left my place."

"Selina," Bruce said sternly.

"Bruce," she replied, meeting his gaze levelly.

Beside Kala, Jay shook his head. "You'd better be damn careful, Selina. She'll kill you."

"Oh, she won't _kill_ me," Selina said, perfectly assured. "That'd be admitting I'm a threat. Also it's not _my_ fault. Bruce, you know I adore you, but you're the one who should put a revolving door on the master suite."

"Ouch," Dick whispered.

Bruce cut her a stony look, and Selina shrugged. "Not trying to judge – you know I can't. I know you, remember. I know you're polyamorous as hell, and I also know you're desperately in need of every bit of love and simple human connection you can find. You _maybe_ should try being up front with everyone about that? Instead of letting all your women try to figure out whether we should just take a number and wait in line for our turn."

His expression didn't change, and Selina sighed heavily. "Back to the original topic, if Talia hasn't killed me for sleeping with her husband, she's not gonna kill me for stealing her bracelet. Or driving her car into the Seine." She grinned wickedly. "Or spending twenty grand to get her phone number just so I could sign her up for okCupid. And plentyoffish. And a few other sites."

Everyone else looked horrified, even Tim who'd been trying to ignore the banter, and Babs arched a skeptical brow. But Kala couldn't contain her laughter. "You are _terrible_!" she finally managed to wheeze, shooting a look at Jay.

Dinah finally leaned her elbows on the table. "Selina, you really are playing with fire. You know that, right?"

Bruce chimed in then, looking a little ashen. "Talia has never been one to let an insult slide. Selina, you need to be more careful."

She cocked her head, looking at him with the same feline arrogance as the cat currently nibbling Kala's unattended french toast. "Bruce, honey, I love you. But you've known me _how_ long and still haven't figured out that I give basically negative fucks about being _careful_? Pardon my language, Alfred."

"Forgive me, Miss Selina, I was not paying attention," Alfred said with dignity.

Bruce chose to change tactics then. "When were you in Paris?"

Selina smiled. "Figure it out, World's Greatest Detective. Oh, and since all of you are _so_ worried on my behalf, I'll have you know that the dating app thing was in response to her donating over a million dollars to charity in my name – but spelling my name wrong. Twelve different ways. She _does_ have a sense of humor."

Jay scoffed again. "Yeah, and you're feline enough to know that when a cat plays with a mouse, only one of them thinks it's a game."

She turned to look at him, and Kala saw her grin. "This isn't cat and mouse, little birdie. And I've seen a cat kill a viper. Let's all be glad, for Bruce's sake, that neither of us is out for blood."

"You sure about that?" Jay said cautiously.

Kala finally noticed the cat eating the corner of her toast, and pushed Miss Kitty's nose away gently as Selina replied, "Honey, there is no man on earth quite like Bruce. But not even he's worth clawing another woman's eyes out. Women should _never_ fight over men. Am I right, Kala?"

"Yeah, now if we can just get men to stop fighting over women," Kala said with a half smile.

"Nah, they're too stubborn. And they think it impresses us." Selina rolled her eyes theatrically, getting a chuckle from Kala.

Babs cleared her throat, and looked over at Jay. "So, you thought you were providing our morning's entertainment? Too bad you both got showed up."

He just shrugged. "I'll take it. Dad does drama better than anybody."

"Aw, you called him Dad," Dick laughed.

"Shut up, Dickie-Bird," Jay grumbled as Kala snickered. "Hey, I just wanted to make the point that all of you can quit acting like I died. Again. Kala's not running off just 'cause we got a little unexpected publicity."

Kala looked at him with a mock-frown. "Well, not yet anyway. I'm starting to reconsider."

While Jay stared at her, Babs chimed in with, "You're welcome, again, for blurring your face in all the videos."

"Thanks, Babs," Kala said, and grinned to let Jay know she was kidding.

He glowered at her, and mimed a cuff at her hair. "Whatever. You'll stick around for Alfred's cooking, if nothing else."

"Oh, I'll stick around for _Alfred_ if nothing else," Kala replied, and the entire table gave agreement.

Kala was about to add that the cooking was a nice bonus, but as she returned her attention to her plate, she noticed her strawberries had inexplicably vanished. And that Selina was grinning.

Narrowing her eyes playfully, Kala said, "Two can play at that game – and everyone _else_ here knows I definitely inherited my mom's food-theft gene."

Before Selina could even reply, Kala had snatched a strawberry off her plate with superspeed, and chewed it with a smirk. That startled a laugh from her, as Dick called out, "The fork of justice strikes again!"

At that, not even Jay could hold back his laughter. Once the hilarity died down a little, Dick and Jay related the fork of justice story to the rest. Dinah just shook her head at all of them. "God help me, my crazy pack of kids back in Seattle don't even cut up as bad as all of you. Alfred, sir, you truly are a saint." He murmured thanks as he refilled coffee mugs.

"I gotta admit, I'm properly intimidated by the fork of justice," Selina said contritely. "So, Kala, here's your wallet back."

Kala couldn't help it, one hand diving to her pocket in surprise. Even with her enhanced senses, she hadn't noticed the theft at all. As she boggled, Selina just smiled sweetly and kept putting things next to her plate. "And here's your phone. And your lip balm. And your earrings."

Bruce looked thoroughly disapproving, Jay was frowning, but Kala only tipped her head back and laughed. "Okay, they all told me you were good, but that's pretty…"

Her voice trailed off as Selina carefully set the last item down in front of her. "And your bootlace. From the side _away_ from me, mind you."

After the week she'd just had, and how she'd worried this morning would go, Kala truly relished being able to drop her head in her hands and grin, helpless with laughter.


	76. Tonight You're Not Alone at All

Talia was curled up in the window seat, with Damian in her lap as he read aloud to her from one of his history books. He was just starting to get too big to do so comfortably, but she didn't care. At the moment, all that mattered was the confident rhythm of his voice and the scent of his hair just beneath her nose.

He reached the end of the chapter, and closed the book, leaning back against her. "Ommi? Why were there four emperors in Rome in a year?"

"Does Tacitus not tell you?" she asked him, stroking his hair.

"Yes, but I want to know what _you_ think," Damian replied, looking up at her. His eyes were green – not like her own, changed by the Lazarus Pit, his were a natural brilliant emerald.

Talia sighed. "It was an unsettled time. Men, since the dawn of civilization, have been prone to grabbing power for themselves instead of trying to build a better world. In that year, when fortunes rose and fell on the actions of distant legions and the whispers of gossip closer to home, when a man could be emperor on one day and murdered by his own people the next, the wisest of men did not seek such a turbulent office. Only power-mad fools wanted it, and their behavior guaranteed short reigns and bloody ends."

"Only great men can lead well," Damian said thoughtfully.

"Ah, but many men _think_ they are mighty leaders. Few of them have the courage and honor it takes to truly attain greatness." Talia kissed the top of his head, and Damian narrowed his eyes a little. He was also reaching the age where he no longer liked to be 'babied', and Talia found it difficult to curtail her affection.

She knew they were not alone, but here in the mountain stronghold she had paid no attention to approaching footsteps. At least, until Ra's al Ghul spoke. "A moment, my daughter?"

Talia looked up at him with her son in her arms, and remembered poignantly being Damian's age, just as endlessly encouraged and adored by her father. And trained just as vigorously. Damian, too, looked up at him with proper respect, though fearless as he was in most things. "Of course, Father," she said, and kissed Damian again despite his wincing. "Read the next chapter, ya albi, I will be back soon."

She followed Ra's into the nearest sitting room, trying not to let her impatience show. He poured tea for them both, Talia taking the chair across from his desk, and Ra's began by asking, "What do you know of the situation in Libya?"

"Our assets there are compromised," Talia replied. Her phone chirped from her pocket, but she ignored it. "Given the current political and economic state of the nation, I've seen no rush to reassert ourselves. Let the dogs fight for scraps, and we will bring the curs to heel – or put them down – at our convenience."

"It is becoming less a matter of convenience," Ra's replied. "I understand Lady Shiva is embroiled in this."

Talia arched a brow. Sandra Wu-San ought to have known better. She had dealt with the League of Shadows many times, as ally or enemy, and for her to involve herself in this rebellion was a surprise. Then again, Lady Shiva had always sought a challenge. This would certainly provide her with one. "Her abilities are truly magnificent, but she has never been a leader of those kinds of men. That requires a different set of skills than pure martial arts mastery. I doubt they will follow her long enough to cause us any significant trouble."

Ra's gave her a dubious look, and the phone chirped again. They both ignored it. "Even one man who claims to be of the League of Shadows, and who does not follow me, is significant trouble, Talia. I will not suffer this infighting."

She sighed. "Then we will send trusted men to put down the defectors."

"I would sooner send you," Ra's said.

Talia bit back her initial response, an automatic refusal on the grounds that she had only just returned from Paris. Her son needed her far more than a bunch of disobedient louts scuffling around, making trouble in North Africa. They could simply wipe their assets there and replace them with more loyal men. Wu-San herself would move on if they cut her followers out from under her – Talia was wise enough to know that no one in the League's employ could actually take her down. She might very well be the most skilled warrior on the planet.

And Talia herself needed Damian. Some days, he was the only bright thread woven through her life.

At her silence, her father elaborated, "I have no other whom I can trust not to throw their allegiance behind Shiva. Perhaps you are right, and she is not the leader she believes herself to be. But I had thought so of another, once, and saw the League nearly sundered."

A chill raced up Talia's spine at that. It had been his most recent death that saw to that, and for a time the League of Shadows – and Talia herself – had been under another's command. The repeated murder and resurrection it had taken to shatter her loyalty still resurfaced in Talia's nightmares. "We have men loyal enough for this. It is a simple enough task, and they would be fools to turn against you now."

"Men are fools," Ra's murmured, as her phone chirped yet again. "Were you not just saying so, to the boy? When the world about them seems unsettled, some let their selfish greed rule them, grasping at any shreds of power they can find. No, this is no errand for loyal servants. I want one of noble blood to drive out the deserters."

Talia sighed, accepting the inevitability. And her damned phone chirped _again_. Ra's looked at her oddly. "Who has that number?"

"No one should," she replied, not mentioning that one or two of his lieutenants who were personally loyal to _her_ did so. They knew better than to use it. And Roman Sionis had a number that auto-forwarded to it, of course, should he decide to attempt to buy kryptonite again.

She took out the phone, and the series of messages at first made no sense. The three numbers that had messaged her weren't ones she recognized, and the texts – in English laden with chatspeak – seemed nonsensical at first.

Then it chirped again, and a photo arrived.

Talia stared at the screen in utter bemusement. "What in all the hells mankind ever invented…?" she murmured, then glanced up that series of messages to the one that began 'saw ur profile on match, ur hot, what r u doin tonite?'

That was a poorly-spelled solicitation, as the accompanying photo made _blindingly_ clear. And wasn't there some sort of online dating site called Match? Surely this couldn't be … oh, but it was. A _prank_.

Only one person could have done this. "Excuse me, Father, I have a cat to skin," Talia said flatly, already plotting vengeance. Once she'd arranged to have that profile deleted, the attached number disconnected, and the man sending her very personal photos of himself – and soliciting the same from her – gelded. "And _then_ I'll sort out this foolishness in Libya."

"I shudder to ask what the Detective's pet has done now," Ra's said.

Talia managed to smile. "She enjoys games. I find a little amusement goes a long way. Never fear, I won't need to go to Gotham to teach her a lesson."

"I should hope not," Ra's replied. "When do you intend to go to Libya?"

That earned him a sigh. "Let me do a little research. Within the week."

He nodded. "Take two weeks, then. I know you want to be here for the boy's birthday, and perhaps both of you may need a little recovery time afterward."

"His swordsmanship is progressing swiftly," Talia replied, with a smile. She doubted Damian could seriously harm her, yet, but the day was coming soon when the birthday tradition she'd passed down from her father – a formal sword-fight, with live steel – would require more than usual effort from her.

…

After breakfast, the Bats mostly dispersed … which left Jay and Kala at loose ends. "You can really stay?" Jay asked quietly, as they helped Alfred with the dishes.

"Yeah, I put my foot down over it, and the boys backed me up," she replied, giving him a smile. It had been a _good_ breakfast, with much laughter, and having the whole extended family there had made for much rapid-fire wordplay. Babs remained the queen of snark, but Selina kept pace with her.

She checked on the household automatically. Bruce had gone down to the Cave with Tim to work on the antidote to Crane's fear toxin. Dick, Babs, and Dinah were in one of the parlors comparing notes on the gangs' various movements, trying to plan out where Crane would strike. And Selina was in the library, accompanied by her cat; Kala could hear a page turning.

Jay was quiet for a moment, rinsing dishes after Kala scrubbed them, then passing them to Alfred to dry. Finally he said, "So … what d'ya wanna do? I mean, we've never had a whole day together where we're not trying to recover from a mission or rest up for one."

Kala shrugged. "I dunno. I just wanted to spend the time with you. I don't even have rehearsal until tomorrow night."

Sighing, Jay looked over at her. "Well, what do normal people do? Go catch a movie, or something?"

Chuckling, Kala smirked at him. "When was the last time _you_ went and saw a movie, Jay?"

"When I was like fourteen?" he shot back. "I don't know, K. We could head back to the apartment, but I don't have much to do there except go back to sleep. And I'd rather not miss out on time with you by being unconscious."

Kala was all too familiar with things they could do at the apartment other than sleep, but she wasn't going to mention it with Alfred three steps to her right. Besides, Jay had a point. "Isn't there trouble you mentioned we might potentially be up to?"

"Well, yeah, Scarecrow's out there stirring things up with Two-Face," Jay said. "But they usually lay low during the day."

Speaking of which… "Don't you have to bring me up to speed on it?" Kala asked, glancing at him. If things were moving forward on that front, it was important that she was in the loop. "Remember, I had to miss out on most of the fun."

He snickered. "If you can read half as fast as you fly, I'll pass you the notes and you'll be updated in under five minutes. C'mon, K, I wanna do something _fun_."

Of all of the things she had never expected to hear, that was definitely in the top three. He was still more than capable of surprising her. Kala cocked her head curiously. "Define _fun_. Are you suggesting we do something _normal_?"

"It'd be about the first damn time in my dating history," Jay shot back. And then turned to the butler. "Hey, Alfred, got any recommendations on where to take a pretty girl on a date?"

"I did once take a yacht full of ballerinas out sailing," Alfred replied, and Kala laughed, knowing the story. "I doubt you can impress Miss Kala with nautical skills, however. Depending on the lady's tastes, of course, a museum or art gallery rarely goes sour. And being that this _is_ Miss Kala, you have the whole of the world from which to choose."

Kala had to pause, nodding. "I hadn't thought of that. Good point."

Jay perked up. "Hell yeah. We could go have a picnic lunch on top of Everest, if we wanted."

That was an amusing image, to say the least. "That would be a great idea if you wouldn't get altitude sickness or worse if I took you up that high, un-acclimated," Kala said, matter-of-factly. "Also, we just ate."

"Yeah, but we do have to figure lunch out. We can go anywhere you want. I'm sure we can find something to explore on the way." He looked more interested and excited by the second. "Shit, we could find ourselves a deserted Caribbean island and play castaway for the day. You gotta have a bikini packed away somewhere, right?"

She couldn't help tipping her head back to laugh. "You're just … wow. No, no bikini in November, not even in the Caribbean. I never thought we'd be having this conversation."

Jay looked at her archly. "Yeah? You think 'cause I'm Red Hood, all I wanna do with you is fight or fuck? Sorry, Alfred."

"Pardon me, I failed to hear that," Alfred replied. "Since the dishes are finished, I will go about my duties and allow you both to sort out your plans for the day with all the profanity you deem necessary."

Both of them looked abashed, but he smiled and patted Jay's shoulder on his way out, leaving them looking at each other.

Whereupon Kala whacked Jay, more gently than she would've otherwise. "This isn't about 'nails and C4 and pancakes'. No, Jay, I don't think you're a thug who just wants sparring and sex. I just … we've never had time for this kinda thing."

"Yeah, we haven't," Jay agreed. "And hell, not like _I_ fucking know what normal people do. Keep looking at me like that and I'll take you bowling or some shit. Do people even bowl anymore?"

Kala threw her head back and laughed even harder. "Yes, people bowl, my band went bowling not that long ago. But Jay, seriously, no. I can't even picture you in bowling shoes."

"Besides, I'd be really tempted by the opportunity to fling something heavy at high speeds," Jay replied. "So what do _you_ wanna do, K? What do you do for fun?"

She smirked at him. "Well, I read, I watch movies, I go to the park and feed the animals. Only, the park I'm talking about is Makgadikgadi Pans in Botswana, and the animals I'm feeding are meerkats. Don't tell anyone, Dad would be pissed at me for interfering with protected wildlife. But yeah, I travel. A lot."

"Yeah, and your idea of travel is pretty spectacular," Jay admitted with a little smile.

Kala tilted her head thoughtfully. "Let's do this. You pick a place for lunch, anywhere you want, and we'll plan the day around that. Sound good?"

"Anywhere?" Jay asked, his eyebrows going up.

"Just remember to factor in time zones," Kala warned. "I can get anywhere on the planet in … let's be cautious, and say two hours. I don't know how fast I can take a passenger."

He just shook his head. "Anywhere in the world in two hours. Jesus _fuck_ , do you have any idea how mind-boggling that is?"

She smirked. "Is this the part where I tell you I've considered finding out how long I can sit on the _moon_?"

Jay stared at her. "You've been to the _moon_?"

"I can hold my breath a long time," Kala said, shrugging. "Dad and I sun ourselves in the ionosphere, Jay. It's high enough that the temperatures fluctuate between 'freezing void of space' and 'boiling sunlight'. There's basically no oxygen at that height, the sky is black because you're above most of the atmosphere. You wanna talk Everest? I've seen it from _above_."

For a long moment, Jay only stared, and Kala began to fear that she'd told him too much, reminded him too strongly of just how _alien_ she was. And then he murmured, "You keep telling me this badass shit, our 'date' is gonna consist of me fucking you in the pantry right here."

That thought brought heat to Kala's cheek. "I know, it's crazy…" she began.

"It's fucking _hot_ , actually," Jay told her. "This chick who can fly around the planet in two hours and go chill on the fucking _moon_ , is screaming _my_ name at night. You know what a head trip that is?"

"I'm still working on the moon," she chuckled.

"K, you're … shit, this is _such_ a Robin line, but you're outta this world," Jay said, laughing. That got her laughing hard enough to drop her head on his chest, and he rumpled her hair.

When she got it out of her system, she looked up at him, her eyes soft. "I guess technically I'm taking you on a date this time. So seriously, where do you wanna go?"

He cupped her face, running a callused thumb over her cheekbone. "There used to be this little sidewalk place in Hong Kong I liked," Jay finally said. "It was there four years ago, maybe it still is. Anyway there's plenty of places there, and stuff's open late. That's like, exactly twelve hours away in time zones, right?"

"Yeah," Kala said, calculating. "Around eight thousand miles. The fastest way is going over the Pacific. That's a lot of flying over the open ocean, Jay. Sure you trust me?"

He scoffed. "At the speed _you_ fly, I wouldn't have long to worry if you dropped me. Sure, K, I trust you. Let's go to Hong Kong for lunch."

Kala grinned. "Okay. We better grab some cash here, and I might change back into my _own_ shirt for this."

Both of them headed out, laughing, and Babs glanced up at them with curiosity as they passed by the door. "Where are you two going?" Dinah called.

Kala had caught Jay's hand, and she beamed at both of them. "Hong Kong. We'll be back in time for rounds. See ya!"

As they left, Babs looked over at Alfred, who had joined their discussion, and Kala heard her ask, "Are you hearing this?"

To which Alfred responded, "I do believe they are going on a lunch date. It will be good for Master Jason to get some fresh air. Even if he does so at considerable speed and altitude."

And Dinah scoffed, "More power to him. I'd be too worried about hitting a bird or something."

…

Flying over the entire United States in about twenty minutes was definitely a new experience for Jay. He knew about Kala's speed, but he'd only experienced it in short bursts before. Once she reached cruising speed, the land below just blurred by – not to make a Robin-worthy pun or anything. He couldn't help making a noise of surprise as they overtook a jet, flashing past as if it was standing still. Jay _knew_ the jet was doing like six hundred miles an hour. Kala was just flying a _whole_ lot faster. At that speed, the wind should've been hitting him harder, but somehow it didn't affect him.

Jay squeezed her elbow, and Kala slowed to glance at him curiously; they were currently hovering over the Rockies somewhere, he thought. "How come I'm not windblown all to hell?" he asked her.

Kala looked vaguely confused at that, then laughed. "I hadn't thought about that in a while, honestly," she admitted with a nonchalant shrug. "Our invulnerability is in our bio-field. When we're holding a person close, it tends to cover them, too. Jor-El's explanations tend to involve a lot more quantum physics than I'm really comfortable with. I just know it works."

Cocking his head, Jay thought about that for a minute. "Does that mean I'd be able to bounce bullets off my teeth if I was hugging you?"

"I have no idea, and we are _not_ gonna find out," Kala said fervently. "The thing about invulnerability is, we can never hurt ourselves with our powers. So even if I'm flying fast enough that physics says I should've abraded off the top layer of skin, it just _doesn't_. And my heat vision doesn't burn through my own eyelids. Same concept."

"That's handy," Jay chuckled. "Okay, I'm good. I just wanted to make sure I wasn't gonna get turned into jelly if you stopped too hard or something."

She shook her head at him with slight exasperation and got underway again. "Yeah, the girl that pinch-hit for the Titans has done this a time or two. It's not like I've never had passengers before. I know to be careful."

That sounded like a sore topic, but Jay figured any attempt to reassure her would just annoy her worse, so he shut up. Crossing the ocean was a little easier, since the less changeable view let him could fool himself into thinking they weren't going at a completely ridiculous speed. He relaxed his death-grip on Kala's arm a little, and the minute he did, she gave him a mischievous grin. Sooner than he expected, they were flying over Japan and China, Kala slowing as she approached Hong Kong.

She landed in Victoria Peak, and for a while they strolled around enjoying the views from up high. Jay had always liked the city's skyline; when he'd first been in Hong Kong, he had stayed in Talia's apartment near the Peak, or in the swanky Intercontinental on the harbor with its fancy pools. Later, when he'd come to the city on his own, he'd stayed in more anonymous hotels down in the city, and experienced its nightlife a lot closer up than the rarefied views from the hill.

He and Kala weren't the kind of people to stay in sanitized tourist-friendly places like the Peak, though. Jay whispered a suggestion, and she nodded, spiriting them both away and down to the center of Kowloon.

The Temple Street Night Market was just as Jay remembered it: crowded, bustling, fiercely alive. Hawkers sold everything from clothes to lighters to cell phone accessories to CDs, and Kala burst into barely-suppressed snickers when she saw a stall selling bootleg copies of her last album. Jay wasn't really there to shop, but he liked the ambiance, threading his way through to the side streets to throw some cash into the hat for a Cantonese opera company, or watch a couple of old men playing Chinese chess.

He and Kala meandered for a while, mostly people-watching, and it was nice to be taken for ordinary tourists. No one knew them here, they were safely anonymous, and he didn't mind being treated like just another gawky American to be fleeced. It was a nice change from being regarded as potentially dangerous.

Kala saw a cell phone case she liked, and it turned out she did have a few words of Cantonese, enough to haggle politely. The seller gave her a discount and a smile, and Jay thanked him in his own tongue, more fluently than Kala had. The older man smiled even more broadly, and Kala looked up at Jay with that curious light in her eye. "You speak Cantonese?"

"K, I know at least _some_ of a shitload of languages," Jay replied, grinning. "English, French, Spanish, Russian, Cantonese, Arabic, plus I can ask for the bathroom or threaten somebody in a dozen more."

She shot him her own snarky grin back. "Wow, I feel inadequate. I only speak English, French, Spanish, and Kryptonese. I can order lunch in a dozen more, because I like the food pretty much everywhere, but that's it."

Jay slung an arm around her shoulders and squeezed her close. "You should be ashamed, as many countries as you can get to. Four languages is positively _provincial_ , K. That's it, we're learning Hindi together. I only know the curse words."

Kala gave one of those laughs that rocked her head back, high and honest, bumping her hip against his as they walked.

They strolled around the market a while longer, taking in the sights. It was night in Hong Kong, but to Jay's belly, it was lunch time, so he eventually led Kala to one of the seafood streets, where he introduced her to the joys of dai pai dong dining.

They put in their orders from a couple of different stalls clustered around a group of rickety plastic chairs, then sat down to enjoy ice cold beer, in Jay's case, and milk tea for Kala. He'd gotten them a selection, and they shared out the meal, Kala diving into the hot pot with prawns, then trying the chili crabs. Jay started with the deep-fried squid, then turned to the stir-fried grouper filet and vegetables.

Kala snagged some of the squid. "This was a good idea," she told him.

"Why thank you," he laughed. "Beats bowling, anyway. Thank God you're not vegetarian right now, or we'd be outta luck."

She stuck her tongue out. "Shut up. I could've found something. This is one of the great food cities, you know? And really, anyone who's not willing to bend and go pescatarian for _this_ seafood is way more principled than me."

He regarded her for a moment. "Not a lot of people can claim to be more principled than _you_."

Kala scoffed at that. "Uh, I can name like ten off the top of my head. Dad, my brother, Diana, your dad…"

"Industrial-grade goody-two-shoes don't count," Jay said, cutting her off. "That's … look, I dunno about your family, but Bruce's deal is just about him being that fucking _stubborn_. If he decides to do something, he's gonna do it, no matter what it takes. Even if most men would die trying. And if he decides he's _not_ gonna do something, then no matter how warranted, he won't do it. If he crosses the line in the sand that he drew for himself, his whole house of cards comes down. Either he's a hundred percent true to his word, or he's got nothing, no honor, no integrity, blah blah blah, might as well hang it all up."

Kala nodded slowly. "Okay, so, I'm not gonna say you're totally off base, but that's … pretty brutal. And possibly just a wee bit biased."

"Yeah, 'cause I don't work like that," Jay said. "Like, what's one thing you'd never, ever do?"

"Hurt a child," Kala said.

Jay pointed his chopsticks at her. "Uh-huh. So, what if the kid's got a gun? Do you risk hurting him when you snatch it away, or let him possibly shoot himself or someone else with it?"

Kala frowned. "Well obviously you don't let the kid _shoot_ anyone. You just have to be as careful as you can, taking it away."

"What if the kid's one of these 'tormented souls' who bring a high-capacity rifle to school and start plugging away?" Jay asked. "Do you talk to him while he's capping fourth-graders? Or take him down for everyone else's sake?"

"There are other options," Kala protested. "I mean yeah, first thought is you have to protect the innocent. But a kid who's that fucked up is _still_ a kid. He might get hurt, but you try to minimize harm."

Jay nodded. "And of course hypothetical questions are always bullshit, anyway, because you can set up the problem any way you want. The thing is, you have more options than most people. But my point was, you're _practical_ about it. You have guidelines, not rules. If I sat here for a while I could work out a scenario where the only right option would be to hurt or kill a kid. You'd do it, if you had to. Feel like shit afterwards, but you would."

By the look on her face, that obviously turned Kala's stomach, but she sighed in defeat. "Yeah. But so would you. I know how you feel about kids, Jay. People still remember the rules you set up in Gotham."

"Uh-huh, and I would've beat the crap out of a kid this last summer, if he'd gone any further," Jay replied. "Little shit was trying to harass Carl. Needless to say, Julio kicked him out as soon as he heard."

Her eyes narrowing, Kala said, "Okay, so we found an exception for both of us."

"That's my girl," Jay said, and snagged one of her chili crabs. "See, the we're both _practical_. You just do the best you can with what you have, and fuck it, it's better than doing nothing. Protect the innocent, no matter the cost, because blood actually _does_ wash off. You just gotta use cold water."

"Or use hydrogen peroxide," Kala added.

He grinned at her. "True. Wash out a lotta blood stains, do ya?"

Kala just stared at him, one eyebrow raised. "I'm a _girl_."

Jay chuckled as it dawned on him. "Good point. Nice to know some things are the same across the galaxies."

"I'm half human," Kala replied. "Which, okay, I've only gotta worry about it four times a year. If I was full-blooded, it'd only be once."

"Nice, that must be more convenient than the monthly subscription to Shark Week," Jay said, and Kala almost choked on her noodles. He quickly grabbed her another drink, sugarcane juice this time, as she had to finish off her milk tea to stop coughing.

"You're gonna be the death of me," Kala complained, laughing.

"You can thank Rose for that phrase," Jay chuckled, remembering her wicked humor. K would've liked Rose; Jay couldn't remember if they'd ever met, but he was sure Rose would have something to snarky to say about shared tastes in men if they ever did.

He shook his head a little, and let Kala get her composure back, before continuing. "Anyway, the deal is, if Bruce said he was never gonna hurt a kid, then he _never_ would. He'd throw himself on a bullet first. For him it's like potato chips, if you do it once, you'll never stop. You and me, we don't think that way. It's not about hard and fast rules. It's about trying to save as many people as possible."

"I can't imagine being _that_ black and white," Kala admitted. "I mean, my dad would _never_. He's _so_ careful, all the time, and he's got the abilities to find an option where nobody gets hurt."

"Yeah, but not everyone can be your dad," Jay said, sampling her prawns. "I mean, hell, that's asking a whole lot of anybody."

"Tell me about it," Kala chuckled dryly. She looked at him intently. "Since you mentioned the kids, how are they?"

"Bitching about homework and eating their veggies," Jay laughed, hearing the fondness in his own voice and not even being ashamed of it.

"Carl hasn't been agitating about doing more super-heroics?" Kala asked.

"I think Selina's idea of workout boot camp is keeping him halfway settled," Jay said. "I need to go by there again, let them know I made it out of Crane's laboratory. Gotta warn them, too."

"You wanna swing by on the way back?" Kala asked.

"Sure, but I'm not flying 'til I digest some of this," Jay warned. "Unless you wanna see all this fancy seafood land right back in the ocean, about the time you kick in the afterburners."

She made a disgusted face, but he could tell she was really laughing at him. "So once we're done, let's go walk it off," Kala replied.

Jay agreed to that, and when they'd finished their meal, he led her to Lan Kwai Fong. It was well after midnight, but the party never really stopped in the city's club district. Neither of them were interested in going into the clubs and bars, but Kala liked navigating through the swirling crowds of revelers. Neon signs lit up the night, and the music pulsing from the clubs made his heart beat in time.

Kala had taken to holding his hand, to keep from being jostled apart in the rush, and now she tugged him close, leaning up to speak into his ear so he'd hear her over the noise. "This was a great idea!"

Jay grinned, and told her, "We gotta come back early. They do a light show around the harbor at eight."

Her silvery laugh warmed him all the way to his toes. "That's eight in the _morning_ our time! We'd have better luck staying up, than getting up that early."

Jay just chuckled, and squeezed her tight.

When the noise and the neon got to be too much, they made their escape, and Kala flew them to Lantau Peak. Hikers were working their way up from below, intending to be on the summit for sunrise, and Jay felt a little bit smug about landing there ten minutes after he'd suggested it. Superpowers really changed the way you looked at the world.

Kala sighed, looking out across the bay at the city. "It's really beautiful," she murmured.

Jay tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, and replied, "You're really beautiful."

She laughed at him, and he grinned sheepishly, but Kala leaned over and kissed him for it, so it was a win overall. When she drew back, her eyes were sparkling. "And you're damn handsome. It's gotta be about four, Robin. You ready to head back?"

"Sure," Jay said. "We can see the kids and catch a nap before rounds."

"Sounds like a plan," Kala told him, and stood up, offering her hand.

Even as he took it, Jay thought to himself that this could be his life. Breakfasts at the Manor with his family, day outings with a girl who could take him anywhere in the world they wanted to go, and then nights fighting crime with a partner who knew all his plays and could dance between bullets with the best of them.

It was damn near a dream come true.

…

After a couple nights in his own house, even with Mikey for company, Sebast found it too empty. He hadn't been there very often without Kala, and the lack of her echoed in every room. Mikey persuaded him to come home, after a week of it, and so far he'd managed to avoid talking about the big fight. All he'd told his mother, that first day back in Metropolis, was that he and Kala weren't speaking, and he'd quit the band.

He'd had to beg off right after saying that, as Zynthiana went into a dolorous frenzy of worry over his future and career. Frankly, Sebast was a little worried about it, too. He hadn't answered his phone when she called, but their agent Jenna kept leaving cajoling messages. Sebast left all the other numbers blocked, not wanting to hear from the band.

By now, the boys probably wanted his head on a pike. He'd heard about the Salt Lake City show, where Morgan had sung his lines, and scoffed at the official announcement about his nonexistent 'family emergency'. Sebast knew it was chicken-hearted of him, but he had let Mikey explain to their mom that it was just the label covering all bases. A temporary absence sounded better than a permanent one.

At the moment he was struggling with the idea of never coming back. It was just too much to think about, _never_ speaking to Kala again … but could he come back and just sing with her? _Professionally_ , as if they meant nothing at all to each other?

Sebast doubted that.

If Kala had broken his heart, if she'd told him that one night meant nothing to her and she was in love with this Jason Todd guy, it might've been easier to take. Sebast had handled rejection before, he hit on enough straight guys. What drove him nuts was the look in her eyes when he'd slammed her with the truth they'd avoided talking about. Kala had looked so hurt, as if she'd wanted more and been afraid to say so, just like him.

Hell, that was most of his problem. It could've been _him_ she was sneaking off with, it could've been the two of them escaping Derek's bullshit _together_ , and he'd fucked it all up by being too afraid to say anything.

Sebast was sunk so deep in thought that he barely paid attention to the dinner table conversation. His mom and abuelita had prepared a big welcome-home meal as soon as he'd said he was coming to the house, with a gorgeous pernil roast, mofongo, tostones, arroz con gandules, rellenos de papa, and tembleque for dessert. All of it smelled and tasted delicious, and Sebast was glad to just lose himself in eating.

"They don't feed you on the road, mijo?" his father asked, breaking into the taste trance.

"Mostly fast food and junk, Papi," Sebast replied. "I haven't felt like cooking since I've been back."

"And your brother can't cook," his mother clucked.

"Hey, I made the tostones!" Mikey protested.

"Man can't live on tostones alone," their father grunted, despite being strictly a grill person and leaving most of the cooking to his wife. Enrique Vélez was a man of strong opinions, and expected much of both his sons.

"He bought me dinner when I got in," Sebast said. "After a whole day on the road eating at gas stations and the airport, I was plenty glad to see something _hot_."

That got his mother started talking about how her friend's sister's neighbor had gotten food poisoning from something at a gas station, and Sebast tuned out again. They were pretty damn good tostones, though, Mikey had fried them just right.

And then, just as he was contemplating a second helping of rice and pigeon peas, his mother reached out and took his hand gently. "Sebastiáno, what's really going on with your girlfriend?"

The delicious mofongo turned to concrete in his throat, and he swallowed it with difficulty. "I gave you the Cliff's Notes version already," Sebast complained. "She's been sneaking out of the band, leaving us to deal with the jerk manager, and lying about _why_ since the summer. I found out she's been dating a guy this whole time, and he's been following the tour to see her. And she's _not_ my girlfriend."

Zynthiana frowned. "If she dared come to Metropolis, I'd have words for her, cheating on my son. And maybe a frying pan, too. I thought better of that girl."

His pulse started to throb in his temples. "Ma, for the thousandth time, _she's_ _ **not**_ _my girlfriend_. Kala and I aren't dating, never were dating, and she's not cheating on me. I'm not even pissed that she's screwing him, I'm pissed that she _lied_ about it. We've never lied to each other about our men!"

And never mind that his anger at her was flavored with jealousy. Even Sebast, furious and heartbroken as he was, knew that he couldn't blame Kala for getting involved with someone else. _They weren't together_. Hadn't they both said that a thousand times? Mostly to his parents?

Of course, his parents didn't see it that way. Zynthiana frowned. "Mijo, I know this is hard for you…"

"No, you don't," he snapped.

"Hey, watch your tone," his father said sternly. "And while you're at it, niño, get real. Denial is not a river in Egypt."

A wave of glassy rage towered over Sebast, threatening to break like a tsunami. He set his fork down, carefully, the click of it against the plate loud in his ears. "Papi, I don't need your bumper-sticker philosophy right now," he said, his voice strained.

"What you need is a good swift kick in the ass, letting that woman get away from you 'cause you're too busy playing," Enrique scoffed.

The wave broke, the ocean thundered, and Sebast was on his feet without even thinking about it. "Like I'd take advice from you!" he snarled. "You don't know the first fuckin' thing about me!"

"Watch your language, mijo," Enrique shot back, brow furrowing. "I don't want that kinda talk at my table."

"I haven't even _started_ that kinda talk," Sebast retorted. "You and your damn pigheaded shortsighted bullshit are half the reason I lost her, cabrón!"

His mother and grandmother both gasped, Zynthiana calling his name in horror, but Sebast didn't care. Enrique stood up, turning to face him. "Don't you cabrón me, little boy. You aren't too old for my belt."

"Maybe we could all just calm down a little bit?" Mikey squeaked.

Sebast's head was pounding, his blood thrumming with anger. Calming down wasn't on the menu tonight. "Oh, you gonna get your belt? I'd like to see you try, viejo. You haven't swung on anything since your football days. Meanwhile I spent all of middle school having to fight the damn jocks who wanted to play kick the queerboy!"

"That's your own fault then," Enrique told him. "You wanna play these games, you know what the world is."

" _It's not a game, you bigoted fuck!"_ Sebast roared. "This is my fucking _life_ , and you all just sit here telling yourselves it's just a phase, Mami tells herself I'm gonna marry Kala someday and give you some grandbabies, and maybe I would've been able to think right about Kala if I didn't have all your bullshit to wade through! No matter what, now I lost my best friend because of this stupid macho can't-be-wrong shit, and all you can do is bitch about my language? Fuck you!"

He hadn't seen his father this furious in years. "Sebastiáno, I swear to God, if you don't learn some respect…"

"Respect _what?"_ Sebast spat.

"I put a roof over your head and food in your belly and clothes on your back for eighteen fucking years!" Enrique shouted. "A lotta men woulda turned you out in the street when you started with that gay shit, I never did!"

Sebast discovered that he could actually be _even angrier_ than he had been five minutes ago. "Oh you little fucking bitch, I'm supposed to applaud you for _doing your fucking job?_ You're a _dad_ , you're _supposed_ to take care of your fucking kids! You don't get a goddamn medal for doing the bare minimum of decency and not kicking out your firstborn son just because he's gay!"

"You don't even know you're gay, you just like getting laid and boys are easy," Enrique retorted.

"Like you'd fuckin' know. It's my life, asshole," Sebast shot back.

"Then you take your foul mouth and get the fuck outta my house," Enrique bellowed. "Don't you dare show up here, talking that shit, disrespecting me after all I did for you. I knew it was a mistake letting you go to that arts school…"

Sebast reeled, his stomach dropping, but he was too angry to quit now. A lifetime of slights and misunderstandings had blown up into a fight like the hurricanes that sometimes hit Ponce, and Sebast couldn't stop himself. "You talk a good game, old man, but who paid off the mortgage? Who bought Mom that car sitting in the driveway? Oh, that's right, _me_. Your gay-as-fuck son who gets paid _real good_ to wear eyeliner and sing my heart out onstage. That arts school is how I got to play enough sold-out shows to buy whatever I want. And for some dumbass reason I went and paid off my parents' mortgage instead of blowing it all on coke and hookers like the straight rock stars out there."

Enrique had puffed himself up to reply, but both of them were startled by a loud bang. Sebast turned to see his Abuelita Constanza had picked up the wooden spoon from the arroz con gandules, and smacked it hard against the table. She glared at him, and at her son Enrique, then banged the spoon again for emphasis. "I have had enough of your yelling. Like little children, both of you."

"Mama," Enrique began, but she cut him off by pointing the spoon at him.

"Sit down, mijo. You're not gonna hit that boy. Sebastiáno, you sit down too. I'm not having this at my table." Constanza stared them both down until they sat, still bristling.

And then she straightened up with a sigh, regarding them all. "Enrique, you know I love you, but maybe you need to clean your ears. That boy's done everything but take out a billboard to tell us who he is. And all you do is tell him he's wrong. You don't remember how your father told you to give up football, it's just a stupid game, and how much you hated him for it? You don't remember when he said you shouldn't marry Zynthiana, her family wasn't good enough, and you threw the chair at him?"

Sebast swallowed, never having heard this family history. Enrique just glowered, then looked across at Zynthiana, who'd gone pale despite her bronze skin tone. Constanza continued, "You didn't listen to him then, and the more he told you not to do something, the madder it made you. _I_ told him to shut his foolish mouth before he lost a son. You swore to me, mijo, you cried on my shoulder and swore you were never going to be as cruel as him – but here you are. Can't you see you're going to drive your boy away?"

"I am not Papi," Enrique said hoarsely. "I never raised my hand to Zynthiana. I never hit those boys unless it was to teach them. I didn't want them running wild like I did."

"And they don't, not even Sebastiáno, and he's as reckless as you," Constanza said. "He swears like you did, too, you can't yell at him for cursing at your table when he learned all those words from you working on your car. You're a better man than your father, I'm not arguing that. I loved him, but he was a hard man to live with. I don't want you to have the regrets he had, when you get old. So don't be so stubborn. If an old woman like me can see the world is changing, that things don't have to be black and white the way our parents and our priests used to insist, then you can learn, too."

Enrique bowed his head, and Sebast breathed out a sigh of relief. He really didn't want to fight with his father, either.

Of course, then Constanza turned sharp eyes on him. "And you, mi nieto, don't think you're in the clear. I know your life is harder than you deserve, and even the priests are admitting that being gay isn't something people _choose_. What you do with your life is what matters. And I'm not gonna lecture you about sin, it seems to me too many people worry too much about everyone else's sin, when the Bible says take care of your _own_ soul and just pray for everyone else. We're all sinners together, and we can't damn or save each other. That's for God."

Sebast blinked at her, never having expected such progressive ideals from the eldest person in the family. She hadn't absolved him yet, though. "What _you_ have to worry about is doing right by the people you love. If you loved Kala and never told her so, you can't blame your parents for that. You have to sort yourself out. It doesn't matter what we think, or what we want – you have to live your own life. Your grandfather _hated_ Zynthiana when Enrique first brought her home, but by the end she was his favorite daughter-in-law. Even stubborn old men can change, in time. You decide what you want, Sebastiáno, and make it happen."

"That's kinda hard to do when she's dating someone else," he told her dryly.

"So? You love that girl. The only thing you're fighting over is _how_ you love her. I can make these two shut up about wanting grandbabies, maybe it's Michael's turn to take the heat there for a while." Mikey squeaked again, shaking his head, and Sebast managed a chuckle. Constanza continued, "Don't walk away from a friend you've known this long. Talk to her. Fix it. Maybe you can still be her friend, maybe this other guy is just a fling and you should give it a try. But do it for yourself, and don't let what people say stop you. You never let what anyone says about boys stop you from dating them, do you?"

Sebast didn't exactly _date_ boys, but he nodded, understanding what she meant. He'd been blaming everyone else for his issues with Kala – Derek, his parents, Kala's secrets, the entire gay community that would judge him – but it was _his_ problem. He had to figure it out. And even if this was the end of the line for him and Kala, he needed to be honest with her if he expected her to be honest with him.

Not to mention, he didn't _want_ it to be the end of the line. Even if they weren't together, even if he had to suck it up and be just her best friend and they had to set some actual boundaries in their relationship, hell, he'd done that before. He'd had enough crushes on straight guys to know how to stamp on his feelings and keep from being a creeper.

"Thank you, abuelita," he finally said, with a slight smile. "I needed that."

"I know you did. Every man I ever met needed a smack upside the head once in a while. Now both of you hotheaded men can stop spoiling this good meal with your fighting," she said sternly.

Everyone at the table looked across at each with equal parts chagrin and hopefulness. Well, except Mikey, who still looked wall-eyed. He was probably just trying to scrub that part about grandchildren out of his mind. Constanza set down the spoon, and took Zynthiana's hand. "By the way, sweetheart, I am _proud_ that you are my daughter-in-law. Enrique is a lucky man to have you."

"I know," Zynthiana said with a smile, squeezing her fingers. "Maybe now I understand how you talked sense to his padre. We _all_ needed a little wisdom today."

"Oh, no, it wasn't like that," Constanza laughed. "I told his father, if he didn't treat you right, he wouldn't get any more love from me. He shut his mouth then!"

"Ay, mami!" Enrique groaned, but the rest of them were startled into laughter.


	77. Never Comes in the Light

Soaring back over the sea, Kala realized she'd never flown with anyone else like this. She'd rescued people, of course, and taken Jason, Elise, even Mom up for transportation. But none of her family wanted to fly with her more than once, if they could help it. She _knew_ how much space she needed to slow down for a landing; just because it didn't seem to be enough was no reason for all of them to turn chicken. Unlike her father, her flight was still a secret, so she was accustomed to hitting speeds that kept her off everyone's radar. Almost literally; she generally showed up as one or two blips moving at impossible speed. The Air Force knew there were several flying metahumans in the United States, but Kala remained too fast to track.

Only Jay was game enough to go on a long trip like this with her, although it had taken him a while. And he still wasn't comfortable, slitting his eyes against the wind speed. She thought about slowing down to Dad's cruising speed, but they needed to get back to Gotham.

That was the central problem, for Kala. She was always in too much of a hurry for subsonic flight. And besides, the speed felt good to her.

Jay was the only one who hung in there with her, like he had from the very beginning. Even when things got crazy during her training, Jay just dug in harder; he never shook loose. And it was damn weird, for Kala, to have someone know her the way he did. He'd met her as the Blur, but he'd also gone to a KLK concert. The only other people that close to her were family, and not even her whole family. Hell, even her family wasn't the same. She didn't work with them that often, other than offering Dad a hand or saving Jase's bacon, and it had been some time since they went to one of her concerts.

There was a good reason for all of that, of course. Mom and Dad went to about one concert a year, just to show support, but her music _really_ wasn't their scene. Kala would've told them they didn't have to, but her father's huge smile when the crowd roared her name kept her from saying anything. Even if she did wince a little at some of the onstage antics. Dad had agreed to give her a year to chase her dream of being a singer – and she'd _caught_ it. She might not be the scientist and the big damn hero that Jason was, but he was proud of her for having the determination and the talent to chase down a crazy goal.

As for the hero side … Kala hadn't come to Gotham to make her father proud. She'd come to shut up the disapproving looks, the smartass whispers, and found this work almost addictive. She still didn't work closely with her own family, and never would. It would be too dangerous, for all of them; the public might start to wonder why Superman had two younger sidekicks whose powers mirrored his, and sooner or later _someone_ would remember that Lois Lane had two children. The irony of it was, people were more likely to think that Lois had cheated on her husband than to realize mild-mannered Clark Kent might _be_ the hero. Dad had sold both of his masks so well over the years that no one would guess they were the same.

Speaking of selling a cover, apparently the apple didn't fall that far from the tree. Kala sometimes felt like two people. More, really. KLK and the Blur and herself underneath both disguises, but then she had that dark splinter, the Empress … and Jay had _talked_ to her. Hell, Jay had flirted with her, which just proved he wasn't entirely right in the head either.

Her dark side was much of the reason why she'd never seriously entertained the thought of telling Sebast the truth, as much as the family promise, if she wasn't lying to herself. Only now that he wasn't at her side every day – and Jay, who knew it all, _was_ – did she realize how much she'd kept hidden from her best friend. And felt the worse for it. Sebast had no idea that Kala could be dangerous, something she had taken pains to hide in even the most intimate moments of their life together. There had always been a ready reason for some of the things she said, for the Kryptonese mumbled in nightmares that she had fobbed off as obvious gibberish. She'd had herself tell him the same lie she'd given Dr. Marrin, that she'd shot Schecter in self-defense in Nevada. But not knowing what she was, Sebast had never guessed that Kala was basically always armed, or that she still had a piece of that nightmare in her mind. The Empress had never woken up around Sebast; she'd never needed to. Kala's daily life was never dangerous. Only when the stress and heartbreak reached extremes did she feel her shadow-self stirring, and even so Kala had kept it just to that coldly formal voice. For Sebast, she had held the door closed with utmost stubbornness and the monster in her head had somehow respected that. She couldn't let the Empress loose on civilians.

Honestly, she didn't know _what_ Sebast would do if he'd had to face the Empress. The mere thought made her stomach feel sour. Kala assumed he'd freak out, but then, she assumed he'd freak out over any of it. Her being the Blur, her being half Kryptonian, her hooking up with Red Hood, even just her hooking up with a Wayne boy. The last had turned out to be true, but she couldn't help feeling like that had been because it didn't make any sense. If he'd known _all_ of it, maybe…

No. That was just wishful thinking. She hadn't told him, she _couldn't_ tell him, and what his reaction might've been was irrelevant. She'd kept Sebast completely out of it the whole time, just like her father had with her mother, and in the end it had blown up in her face just like it had for Dad. No sense wondering what might have been, not now. _If_ he came back to the band, maybe then she'd try to explain it to him. Maybe trusting him with the secret would be enough to heal their friendship. Kala missed him deeply, finding herself too alone at random moments.

But then, Sebast would have to accept things as they were, here and now just like she did, and even if she decided to tell him the truth about herself, Kala wouldn't give him Jay's identity. _That_ was unthinkable. She would never do anything that jeopardized this impossible man at her side. And she would find a way to make it work, if she could. In a strange way, despite the glaring differences between them, Kala was trying to protect both of them.

And yet, it felt like Dru-Zod had been _right_ in her nightmare. She'd tried to be both human and Kryptonian, keeping the halves of herself separate, and it had cost her Sebast. Not only that, now she was finding that her darker self was growing stronger. The knowledge that the Empress had been awake more since she'd come to Gotham than ever before weighed heavily on Kala. At least she was learning how to cope with it.

Why did everything have to be so complicated? Why couldn't she have her singing partner and her vigilante partner both be a part of her life? They'd never even _met_ and it felt like a rivalry between them, like the Blur and KLK were competing for control of Kala's heart.

KLK was supposed to be the more 'real' one of her masks, the one closer to who she truly was. So why had Sebast been the one to leave, and the Blur's partner overtaken so much of her daily routine? Was it really just as simple as falling in lo …

Her introspective train of thought cut off then, and Kala _did_ fall, dropping a thousand feet in altitude as Jay clutched her arm. She dropped her speed, and looked over her shoulder, starting to snicker as she realized what had just happened. They were over land again, and that came with some additional hazards. "K, what the _fuck?"_ Jay yelped.

At her speed, she had to fly on instinct, reacting before her mind processed the visual input. "Flock of geese," she told him, chuckling. "I had to drop so I didn't hit one."

"That's just great," he complained. "I guess it could be worse. I really don't wanna catch a face full of pissed-off goose going this fast."

Kala burst into laughter then, a welcome relief from her earlier contemplation. All she could see in her mind's-eye was a cartoon explosion of feathers. The reality would've been worse, but she chose the humor. "Yeah, splattered isn't a good look for either of us," she told Jay, and got them underway again.

She knew those worrisome thoughts would come back, but this two-day break was for _Jay_. There was plenty of time to worry about Sebast when she was riding alone in the loft, or getting ready before shows without his teasing voice telling her to hurry.

Too much time, really. At least for now, she had something brighter to think about. And what an irony, that Red Hood should be the source of her hope.

…

After swinging by his apartment first for uniforms – really they just needed the masks – and then by a sub shop to pick up sandwiches, Jay pointed out a building, and Kala landed them there. He turned and waved to an unobtrusive little camera, then went over to the rooftop access and knocked on the door.

A few moments later, a young male voice called out, "Who's out there?

Rolling his eyes, Jay called back, "Santa Claus, comin' to see if you've been naughty or nice. It's Tommy, who else?"

Kala tapped him on the back of the head, and he just shrugged at her. The kids had good enough security that only their caretakers came in via the roof. He heard the rattle of the locks and the security chain, then Julio opened the door, with Lenny right behind him holding a baseball bat just in case.

And Julio actually _grinned_ to see him, which stabbed Jay right in the chest. These kids didn't need to admire someone like him; he'd looked up to Batman and Robin, and look where it got _him_. He didn't want to perpetuate that cycle. And yet, it was damn good to be recognized and actually liked.

"Hey guys, I brought a friend," Jay said, nodding at Kala. "Julio, Lenny, meet the Blur. Consider yourselves lucky, she usually doesn't hold still this long. Blur, this's Julio, that's Lenny, and I know Carl's around somewhere."

"Course I am," Carl said, nudging Lenny aside. He looked at Kala narrowly, then turned to Jay. "Do you only know girls or something?"

"Shit, I'm not complainin'," Lenny muttered.

Jay couldn't help chuckling. "This is what happens when you're a big damn feminist and everyone knows it. All the girls hang out with you. Let Batman and Nightwing and Robin run the boys' club, for all I care."

"Oh stop it, you get along with them now," Kala chided. "Most of the time, anyway. The ladies are just using you for a meat shield."

She smirked, and he glowered at her, and the kids got out of the way to let them in. Jay handed over the big box of subs to Kala, and let her navigate the narrow steps first. As she headed down, Julio looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "What?" Jay said.

"So that's your girlfriend, huh?" Julio murmured.

"Is _that_ what everyone's saying?" Jay asked, frowning.

"Well, Capespotting, but they can't decide if she's with you or Superboy," Julio told him.

He couldn't help a snort of amusement. "Yeah, no, she's not with Blue Junior. Blur's my _partner_. We work together." Jay started down the steps; Kala was already in the room below, being introduced by Lenny and Carl.

Julio just chuckled. "Okay then. Still, good on you. Ella es _muy_ guapa. I could look at that view for a while."

Jay elbowed him. "Hey! Don't hit on capes. You have _no_ idea who most of these women are, and they could fold you up like origami if they took exception. That one, especially."

"All right, all right," Julio said, and Jay could tell he hadn't thrown him off the truth of them dating. It didn't matter, he hoped.

They got down the stairs as Kala started passing out food, and she glanced up at them with a smile. "Hey, Julio, you're not so bad yourself," she said, and Jay watched the boy freeze. "By the way, I'm not just really fast. I can also hear basically everything on this block. And I speak Spanish, along with a couple other languages."

"Ah, shit," Julio said, wincing, and maybe only Jay saw the look Carl was giving him.

Kala shrugged. "No harm, no foul. I think the guy who designed this suit likes the view, too. Right, Red?"

"That'll turn a bullet. What you were wearing when you showed up here wouldn't," Jay replied in as deadpan a voice as he could.

"You're the only one who gets me into the kind of trouble where I can't just dodge 'em," she pointed out, her eyes alight with mischief.

"Yeah, yeah, we had a reason for comin' here, and it wasn't to practice our comedy routine," Jay said gruffly. Kala just sighed, but all the kids had gathered around, and he pulled up a chair. "So, here's the deal. You guys tipped us to Scarecrow and Two-Face. It looks like Scarecrow is making a bid for real power in the city, with Black Mask locked up. He's got two different types of fear toxin, this time, and they work different. One of 'em makes you see the next person in front of you as your worst fear of all time, and it kinda locks you onto that. So if you get away from them, you'll think you're okay, until they catch up and you get the screaming horrors again."

A couple of the kids shivered, and Carl stepped closer to Julio. Jay went on, "The other kind, we found out from his notes, is similar to what he's used before, but not as strong. It'll give you all kinds of anxiety, make you jump at every loud noise, but it doesn't have the hallucinogenic effect. You won't see monsters, you'll just be afraid of everything. That one might be worse, because it's harder to tell if you've been exposed."

Kala growled under her breath. When he looked at her, she explained, "I hadn't read those notes yet. What a bully."

"Yeah, Scarecrow's a bastard," Jay said, and saw her narrow her eyes at him. When he realized why, he burst out laughing. "Seriously, Blur? These are _street kids_ , I'm not gonna scald their ears with my bad language. Most of 'em say 'fuck' more than I do."

"I know you, so I really doubt that," she replied, crossing her arms. "And give me a break, would you? You know why."

' _Cause you're a daddy's girl, that's why, and your dad doesn't swear at all. So you won't swear in front of kids._ "Sure. Anyway, Dinah brought you guys some gas masks already, right?"

He saw Kala arch a brow at that, and shrugged. "She gave 'em her name, Blur, not me. I don't think they know who she is with the mask on. And don't start guessing, either, guys. Knowing who people like us really are is just a liability."

"Seconded," Kala replied crisply, and Jay could've kicked himself. She was still worrying about her co-singer, who knew so much about her, but not that.

"All this is us just letting you know where we stand," Jay continued, focusing on the kids. "You need to be safe, but we're planning to bring the hammer down on Scarecrow as soon as we know where he's gonna hit. He's got a bad habit of stashing fear toxin around the city for future use, and we'd like to find it before he triggers it off."

"What can we do?" Carl asked.

"Stay here, keep your heads down, get good grades," Jay replied, and Carl rolled his eyes as only a teenager could.

"Seriously, let's be honest: _I_ don't even want to get in the way of fear toxin, and I'm a metahuman," Kala said, swiping a hot pepper from the boxes of sub condiments and idly munching it.

The way she said it obviously piqued their interest, and all the kids turned to look at her. "What's that like, anyway? Having powers?" Carl wondered.

Kala flashed a small fond smile at the question when she shrugged. "Really? Like being anyone else, except you can do stuff. At least, for me, since I can pass for human. I went to school, I had a part-time job, I went on dates … and in between that, sometimes I'd run halfway across the country to save someone."

"When did you know?" Lenny asked. "That you were a meta, I mean."

She paused, and Jay knew she was deciding how much to tell them. " _I_ didn't really know until I was about six. My mom knew before that. Apparently most toddlers can't hear you say 'ice cream' when they're inside the house and you're sitting in your car a block away. The speed hit when I was six, and I was old enough to understand that I had to hide it. The rest came in gradually. I got the last of it by the time I was sixteen."

Jay hadn't meant to turn this into a Super Q & A, but Kala didn't seem to mind. Carl, meanwhile, was looking at her curiously. "You have other powers?"

"Yeah, but my partner said not to tell anyone about them, sorry," she replied with a shrug. "As long as they're secret, the bad guys can't plan for them."

"Lame," Carl said, glancing at Jay.

Who simply said, "It's not paranoia if they're actually after you."

Kala laughed, her beautiful silvery laugh, and teased, "Why am I not surprised that the guy with a loaded shotgun trip-wired to his door and a knife under his pillow would say that?"

"We can't all go for a brisk jog around the city in the time it takes a burglar to scrub the lock," Jay shot back, and caught Julio smirking. Yeah, well, Kala knowing what was under his pillow _did_ make their relationship a little more obvious. He sighed, and shook his head. "Anyway, I just came to check in, and make sure you got those gas masks. If you hear a warning from GCPD to stay inside, or if you have any other reason to think Scarecrow's doing his thing on this block, slap those on."

All of them nodded seriously, and he asked, "Anything you guys need? I know we got the basics covered, but like, I dunno. Haircuts?"

"We've got scissors," Carl said. "Although speaking of hair, like, some Manic Panic would be nice. They have this blue…"

"Rockabilly or Shocking Blue?" Kala asked, the question making Jay look askance at her, but then why wasn't Jay surprised to know that she knew the names of the colors by heart? Manic Panic sounded like the kind of company that catered to the Goth crowd.

"After Midnight, actually," Carl said, brightening.

"Oh, I love that one," Kala said, clearly engaged with the topic. "It looks more purple than blue on me. I did streaks of it in high school, and when it washed out, I went for the Electric Lizard, since it glowed in the dark. It's good; it lasts a lot longer than the other stuff. Stick to cold water, though."

Jay just closed his eyes. "Yeah, so, I'll add hair dye to the list. Anything else?" He could see Kala make a face at him in his peripheral vision.

Somebody mentioned an X-Box, and Jay wasn't on board with that, even if he could see the sense in them having some indoor entertainments. The only problem was, one game system and six kids would just create arguments. He disentangled himself and headed back to the roof without committing to more than thinking about it.

Julio and Carl waved them off, Jay and Kala running to leap to the next roof, and once they were out of sight she took him up, landing at his apartment seconds later. "It'd be six damn X-Boxes," he grumbled to her. "Jesus fuck, I am _never_ having kids."

She just snorted at him. "Most of them would shank you if tried to play Dad, anyway. They're a good bunch, though. I can tell that on first meeting; it's easy to get why you're fond of them."

"Yeah, sorry about Julio," he said with a shrug. "Most of 'em are at that age where they've discovered girls, and have no idea what to do about it."

That earned him a knowing grin, light and amused. "He's what? Sixteen, seventeen at most? I get worse at concerts," Kala replied easily as he unlocked the door. "It's kinda cute at that age, honestly. They still have no idea what to say to girls."

"I'll tell him you said that. It'll be like a bucket of ice-water," Jay replied. He needed to disarm his security, but for a moment he just paused, looking at Kala.

Her expression went from lightly amused to serious. "What?"

Jay had to stretch to find the words. "Nothing, just … today was a good day. A _cool_ day. You're a pretty cool girlfriend."

That won him a smile, and she cupped his face in her hands, rising on tiptoe to kiss him. "Careful, Red, you keep sweet-talking me, I might start to think you _like_ me."

He wrapped his arms around her waist and squeezed her close. "Oh, I like you all right. Lemme disarm this tripwire and I'll show you just how much."

As they made their way past his security, Jay decided he could really get used to hearing Kala's delighted laughter more often.

…

After some lovemaking and a nap, the dark woke Jay. He was as attuned to it as Kala was to sunrise, and as he stretched and got dressed in uniform, he felt all of his instincts – lulled to drowsing by a good, safe, anonymous day in good company – coming back online.

Kala had slept with the covers thrown back, baring as much of her skin to the light streaming in the windows as possible. Once he started moving around, she rolled over and smiled lazily at him. That half-sleepy satisfaction in her gaze brought him back to her side for a kiss, and then another. He pulled back, reluctantly; if he hung around kissing her much longer, they'd miss patrol. Kala got out of bed, and Jay turned his comm on. "This is Hood, signing in. We're getting ready to rumble. What's on for tonight?"

"Scarecrow's men are making a move," Oracle replied. "Two-Face has been pushing him, and he's apparently decided to respond. We know where they're storing the toxin, so we're going to hit that first, tonight. Meet up at the Roost for the briefing."

Even as she spoke, Kala had come back in and was getting dressed, clearly having heard the conversation. Heat coiled through Jay's belly at the sight of her zipping up her suit. Damn, she looked powerful and gorgeous in it – and dangerous, too. It was a combination guaranteed to make him a little weak in the knees. She saw him staring and smirked, rolling her eyes. "Tell O we can be there in five," Kala said.

Jay grinned. "We'll be there shortly. I'm letting Blur drive. Speaking of drive, if we're gonna roll around with Scarecrow and fear toxin, I need a more airtight vehicle than my Charger."

"I'll pass that on," Babs chuckled.

Meanwhile Kala just arched a brow as she pulled on her gloves. "Doesn't the Batmobile only seat like two people?"

"Three, if they're good friends," Jay quipped. "But the Batmobile isn't the only car in the Cave. I'm gonna borrow _my_ favorite ride. Well, second favorite, after you."

That earned him a swat on the shoulder. "Oh great, cheesy Robin puns meets horny teenage innuendo. Just what I don't need. Helmet up, Red, we've got work to do."

He did, and let her fly them to the Batcave. Jay still preferred driving himself, and her flying was still a little too much on the 'terrifying' side of exhilarating for his taste, but it just made sense. They landed just as Bruce and Tim walked up to the central computer, and Dick was already there, giving them a quick grin. Bruce just nodded. "Good. Oracle's linked in via comm. Here's what we've learned."

Jay turned to the screen as Bruce began pulling up information. "Scarecrow's primary new formula was intended for commercial use. He's created a stockpile, stored in a warehouse, and he means to test it tomorrow on one or several potential targets. He'll then use the resulting chaos to sell the focused fear toxin on the black market."

"He's _never_ sold the stuff before," Jay said, frowning as he read down the notes he'd scanned in Crane's office, along with annotations that Bruce and Babs had put in later.

"Early in his career, he did," Bruce pointed out. "Only once, and it didn't go very well for him. The Gotham gangs thought they were buying something like an improved form of LSD. They didn't appreciate being sold hallucinogens that only provided bad trips, and left lasting psychological damage. Crane has done his testing on the public, since, not on buyers. In this case, he intends to market the drug to those who know exactly what it is and what it does. Dictators, paramilitary groups, and terrorists. He's also focusing on sales outside Gotham City, broadening his reach."

"That new guy of his," Kala said, reading faster than Jay. "He talked like a salesman. Is he the reason Scarecrow decided to go commercial?"

"Sauers has an interesting history," Tim replied, pressing a few keys and bringing up new data. "His background is in chemistry. He was fired from a major research firm fifteen years ago, and since then he's been connected to various black-market arms dealers. It appears his specialty is reverse-engineering chemical weapons and selling them to whoever has the cash."

Jay knew some of the names scrolling across the screen. There were plenty of groups out there across the globe interested in chemical warfare, and he'd fought some of them – and been trained by others. He'd never met Sauers before, but they'd run in some of the same circles. Aloud, he said, "I wonder if Sauers came to Crane, instead of the other way around. If you were a black-market chemical weapons specialist, and you heard about what Scarecrow can do, you'd just about have to be interested."

Dick nodded. "That was my thought, too, but Sauers appears to be playing second fiddle in this particular operation. That could be his game, letting Crane think he's in charge when Sauers is actually the one manipulating him."

"If that's the case, we want Crane to know it," Babs' digitized voice said from the speakers. "Finding out that he's been someone else's pawn again _might_ be enough to keep him from going commercial in the future. And I don't need to tell you, we do _not_ want this stuff on the global market."

"Yeah, fuck no," Jay said, with a shake of his shoulders. "The last thing we want is Gotham's crazies branching out."

"The fear toxin is volatile," Bruce said. "It doesn't tend to ship well, and degrades over time. It has a shelf life measurable in weeks to months, not years, unlike a lot of other compounds in chemical warfare. So we have that much going for us."

Still, Jay couldn't help imagining those crowded Hong Kong neighborhoods with a nice fresh batch of toxin dropped on them. Talk about panic in the streets, that would be a complete riot. "So we stop it here, put Crane away, and make him think Sauers was screwing him. Which Sauers probably is anyway. We'll get Sauers off the streets too. Does he have any warrants?"

"Yes, federal," Dick said. "Interpol wants him too. He's not going to Arkham."

"We need a three-pronged attack here," Bruce said, and replaced the notes with a large map. "Everything indicates they're going to wait until dawn, since they intend to film this as propaganda for their sales, but I want to catch them well beforehand. The toxin was moved into place today, so we'll hit it as soon as their guard shift changes. Here's the warehouse, and Scarecrow's notes indicate he's planning to test the toxin in one of these highlighted locations. I'll take the Batwing for aerial coverage and quick response if he does deploy it. Dick, you and Tim take the Batmobile and head to the warehouse. Jay, do you have an airtight vehicle, or will you be flying?"

For a moment, Jay didn't answer. He was looking at the map with a feeling like hundreds of ice-cold cockroaches running up and down his spine. "My car's not tight enough for this," he said, his voice buzzing with tension. "I was gonna be cute and ask for the Tumbler. But Bruce … one of those test sites…"

Kala saw it at the same moment. "Oh fuck, it's the kids," she whispered.

"What kids?" Tim asked.

"The group of homeless teens he was living with undercover," Bruce supplied, and Jay snapped his head around. All he got for his trouble was a slight smile beneath the cowl. "No, Oracle didn't tell me. I have my ways, Jason. From what I've learned, you have the situation well in hand."

From the speakers came a buzz of static that sounded a lot like Babs swearing under her breath, and Jay just shook his head. "You nosy asshole," he said out loud. "Fine, yeah, I've been trying to help them. And now they're in the crosshairs."

"We're stopping this before it starts," Bruce said reasonably. "They'll be fine. They have reliable monitoring, as well. You and Kala take the Tumbler, cut off this escape route from the warehouse. We'll converge in half an hour. And Jason?"

"Yeah?" he asked, his shoulders stiff.

"I own a lot of property in Gotham. If you want to move them into apartments, or a house in a safer neighborhood, let me know. They sound like good kids." Bruce looked at him steadily, and Jay couldn't read his expression through the cowl and lenses.

"I'll keep that in mind," Jay said, and caught the keys when Bruce tossed them over.

As they walked across the Cave to the bay where the Tumbler sat in storage, Kala muttered, "Don't you just wanna smack him upside the back of his batty cowl sometimes?"

"Most of the time," Jay grumbled. "I should've known. It's Selina, he'd have to be keeping an eye on her. If he's slipped a tracker into her catsuit or something, though, she'll be furious. Ten bucks says she slashes the tires on every car he owns."

"Let's get this show on the road," Kala said, shaking her head.

…

Kala whooped with joy as the Tumbler leaped across the fifty-foot gap and landed on the access road to the cave. Just for fun, Jay swung it back and forth, letting her feel the independent suspension. "Holy shit, I love this car!" she exclaimed, her eyes bright.

But her voice didn't sound as nasal as it should've, and Jay smacked her thigh before shifting gears. "Put your filters in, K," he admonished, his own voice sounding odd. "I know they feel weird, but we might not have time in the field."

"Yes, mother," she replied, rolling her eyes, but she clipped the filters to her septum, wincing. Jay could sympathize; the damn things stretched his nostrils, but an airtight seal was the whole point. And even though the whole reason they took the Tumbler was that it could drive through a cloud of toxin without even a whiff getting inside, he knew they were going to have to get out at some point.

"For what it's worth, this is my favorite of his cars," Jay said. "I mean, I'd _love_ to fly the Batwing, but he's rabid about that. This baby, he doesn't use as much anymore. It was the first one, the Batmobile's supposed to be the upgrade. But this is more fun."

Kala nodded agreement, baring her teeth in a delighted grin as he took a corner at ridiculous speed. Then again, the way she flew, this was probably tame.

"Location," Oracle's voice barked from their comms.

Jay read back their coordinates, and added, "ETA ten minutes."

"Negative, I'm rerouting you," Babs said, and he thought he could hear the rattle of furious typing. "Two-Face jumped the gun. Apparently we weren't the only ones who knew Crane was getting ready to let this stuff loose. There's already a fight at the warehouse."

"We're on it," Jay said, looking at the map screen.

"B, Wing, and R have that situation," Babs said. "The first shipment of toxin was already loaded, and it hit the road when the warehouse was attacked. I'm sending you and K to intercept."

"Where is it?" Jay asked, feeling tension coil in his gut.

"I'm trying to find the vehicle now," Babs said. "Crane _knew_ Dent was after him, he was ready to jump at the first sign of trouble. He's almost certainly with this shipment. But we don't have video of the vehicle leaving the warehouse, just phone chatter from inside indicating that it left."

Jay swore, aware of Kala watching him seriously, getting locked down for battle. "Our best bet is head for the warehouse, then. We might get lucky and meet him on the way. No chance of knowing which target zone he'll pick?"

"His notes don't indicate a preference," Babs said grimly. "I'm reviewing footage now."

"Keep us updated," Jay replied, and sped up.

The Tumbler wasn't meant for city streets, but it was supremely maneuverable, and Jay knew how to drive in these conditions. He wove through traffic, only leaving a few clipped windows and smashed signs in his wake, hoping every second for good news. Beside him, Kala had gone silent, and he spared a second to glance at her.

She was looking out the heavily-reinforced windshield, her gaze distant, probably listening with Kryptonian super-hearing for some kind of clue. What struck him, in that moment, was how _calm_ she looked. Tense, yeah, but she wasn't breathing fast, she didn't tend to fidget like he did, she was just focused intently on her goal. A far cry from the inexperienced and snappish young hero he'd met back in May. Six months didn't feel like enough time to have turned out a polished vigilante, but somehow they'd done it.

"We're gonna get him, K," he said reassuringly, and she nodded.

Oracle came back on then. "You're looking for a black Chevy SUV, last seen heading eastbound on Dixon Avenue," Babs told them. "I don't have a fix on the exact location yet. Sauers is at the warehouse; they're prioritizing him. B's taking Dent's men, R and Wing are taking on Crane's. We've got a cloud of fear toxin at the warehouse, they breached the containers when they were attacked."

Which left him and Kala with Crane himself, maybe one flunky, and a whole lot of fear toxin. Not for the first time, Jay marveled that his circumstances had changed to the point where Bruce and Babs both trusted him to get this done. He grinned fiercely, and floored the accelerator.

"If he's going east, he could be heading for the kids," Kala said, and that wiped the smile off Jay's face. He glanced at her, and saw the moment her fear crystallized into protective determination. " _Go,_ Jay, before I pick this thing up and fly it there."

"O, you've got cams around them," he said.

"His route could be leading there," Babs agreed. "I've got a fix on the car now, putting it on your screen."

Jay looked at it briefly and made some calculations before whipping the Tumbler through a hard turn that left rubber all over the road. "I'm taking a shortcut. How far does this thing jump, again?"

Babs must've read his mind. "Go off the 9th Street dead-end. There's a dock on the other side you can land on. But make sure you use the boosters."

"Did she say 'dock'?" Kala asked, turning to him.

"That's what this bad boy was designed for. Jumping rivers," Jay replied, and lined them up, trusting other cars on the road to get the hell out of his way.

Kala went quiet, trusting him, and then said with low determination, "Do it."

"Let's hope we don't need to find out if this thing can swim," Jay told her grimly, and then they saw the street end in a low retaining wall, the river beyond it gleaming black in the dark. He couldn't see the dock Babs had mentioned; he just had to trust that it was there, and would hold the vehicle's weight.

Jay's hand hovered over the booster button, and he felt Kala's hand settle over his, quietly confident in him and in herself. Grinning again, he punched the boosters, felt the g-force smash him back into his seat, and the Tumbler roared up and over.


	78. Pounding on Fault Lines

**Authors' Note:** So, we are winding down to the close of this particular fic. Right now, it looks like chapter 80 will be the epilogue. There are _plenty_ of unresolved plot threads, of course, and this fic has a direct sequel called _Chiaroscuro_ which we will start on, after about a month's break to catch our breath. _Chiaroscuro_ won't be anywhere near as long as this behemoth - that started, ten years ago, as a **oneshot** , and then a twelve-chapter fic, and has pretty much metastasized from there - but it will give you the conclusion of most of those threads. The ones it leaves open are for _Blood Will Tell_ , which we've been foreshadowing since way back in _Heirs to the House of El_.

So enjoy, for now, the thrilling conclusion. And thank you all for reading, favoriting, and reviewing.

* * *

The Tumbler landed with a crashing of wood, and Jay gunned it, feeling the tires catch and slip and catch again. They slithered back onto pavement, smashing a parked car out of their way, and he pushed for more speed, chasing the SUV.

Whoever was driving it had already attracted police attention, and Jay had to weave the Tumbler between them. They had to know that was a Bat-vehicle joining the chase, and some of them tried to get out of his way. Mostly it was just a confusion of cops and civilians and the SUV pulling away.

Jay wouldn't let it happen, punching the boosters again and jumping a cop car that clipped a civilian vehicle. He could see Kala wincing from the corner of his eye, and knew she was worried about collateral damage. They didn't crush the patrol car, though, and Jay finally saw the SUV up ahead. "Got 'em in sight," he said into the comm.

They were only a few blocks away from the building where the kids lived, and Jay decided to end this _here_. He swung around another patrol car and pulled up behind the SUV. The Tumbler had plenty of Bat-gadgets built in, and he fired one of the simpler ones. Two nets shot out of the front of the Tumbler and wrapped around the SUV's rear tires. In seconds, the axle was bound up, and the back tires froze.

The driver was still trying to go on, and the front wheels were still turning, but now he was dragging the back end and the SUV slowed way down. "Get ready," Jay said, and Kala nodded.

He swung alongside, and turned into the SUV, hitting its back fender with the Tumbler's front end. Jay knew he had to be careful, the SUV's high center of gravity made it prone to rollover, so he'd slowed it down to minimize the chance of killing both occupants. And accidentally releasing the fear toxin, which honestly he'd be more worried about than offing Crane and his flunky.

It was almost by the book, the SUV spinning across the road out of control, and Jay used the Tumbler to wedge it against a parked truck. That should've been the end, he and Kala could pop out and grab Crane and his driver, zip-tie them for the cops, confiscate the fear toxin, and drive off into the sunset like heroes.

Except, even as he threw the Tumbler in park and popped the doors, Crane kicked out the rear window of the SUV and made a run for it.

Trailing fear toxin the whole way.

A hissing noise came from the SUV, as fear toxin leaked from it, and the driver staggered out, clutching his throat and coughing. "Fucker," Jay snarled, and thumbed the loudspeaker. "Stay back, he just released the fear toxin! Hold your breath or remain inside your vehicles." The announcement was greeted by the slamming of car doors, and a muttered imprecation from Babs over the comm. To her, Jay continued, "We're pursuing Crane on foot, home in on the Tumbler to deal with the gas."

"Copy," Babs said, and then Jay and Kala were out and running. Nose filters in, he had his helmet on, they were okay. For now.

Crane, no fool, had run for the sidewalks, where panicking pedestrians got in the way of pursuit. Jay followed, automatically assessing the man. Crane was taller than him by an inch or so, but he had none of Jay's bulk; there was a reason his childhood bullies had called him Scarecrow. At first glance he looked gangly, weak, someone who might fold easily from a gut punch. But Jay had gone up against him before, and knew better.

He had a dancer's grace, and enough training to be a bit of a challenge; those long awkward-looking limbs gave him damn good reach for blows. And he could run like a freakin' greyhound, as he was currently proving. Crane looked over his shoulder at them, one wild blue eye peering from beneath an unkempt mop of black hair.

Jay had time to wish that someone had gotten hold of him as a kid and given him a decent life. Crane could've turned out to be one of theirs, he could've taken that rage at all the humiliation and injustice and turned it into something good, but he'd chosen this, instead. Not that Jay was really in a position to judge, but at least he was trying to be an antihero instead of a villain these days.

Kala could've caught up to him in a second, but for once she was following Jay's lead, holding back. If possible, he wanted to take Crane down someplace a little less crowded. Fewer potential victims when he inevitably started spraying more toxin. Luckily for Jay, Crane darted inside a building. "Go around, catch him at the back," he told Kala, and followed as she kicked in the speed to obey.

Crane had dropped something just inside the door, and Jay heard it hissing, knowing it was fear toxin. The door Crane had run in led to a shop, and even though it appeared deserted, Jay bellowed out, "Police! Clear the area!" For some reason saying 'police' worked better than anything short of shouting 'this is Batman', and Bruce never did that, anyway. If there were any civilians around, hopefully they'd run before they got a whiff of toxin.

Behind the shop was a stockroom, and Crane jerked down a row of shelves in his wake. Jay snarled and went over them, hearing things crash all around, trying to keep his focus on Scarecrow. Keeping his footing, however, turned out to be a pretty important priority, too. He damn near fell as the shelves he was clambered over collapsed under his weight.

Even though Jay recovered quickly, Crane made it to the back door first. He heard the comm chatter but ignored it, focused on the problem in front of him. Jay knew Kala would be at the back by now, Crane would run out only to be caught by her. They'd be done here in a minute flat.

The back door banged open, Crane ran out, and Jay heard the heavy thwack of bodies colliding. Shit, he'd _literally_ run right into her…

Then he heard the sound he'd been dreading in his secret heart ever since he first agreed to train up the Blur: Kala's high, spiraling shriek of terror.

…

Dick stowed Sauers in the Batmobile, listening to Oracle's voice in his ear as she routed the Batwing remotely to Jay and Kala's location. She was using it to dump foam on a cloud of fear toxin in the street and keep it from spreading; they'd run into trouble, but nothing they couldn't handle. He returned his attention to the rest of the men still fighting.

On his way out, Scarecrow had breached both kinds of fear toxin. So all of the men here, no matter whose side they were on, were jumpy and paranoid, riddled with anxiety. Some of them had gotten a whiff of the new hallucinogenic type, and every so often one of those would cross paths with the person who'd become the incarnation of his greatest fear. Then, there'd be more yelling and shooting. Bruce and Tim were still in the thick of that, and for some of the poor bastards, they were seeing _two_ Batmen. The real one was slightly less frightening than the nightmare version, which made things a bit easier. Dick would never forget the one time he'd run afoul of an earlier version of fear toxin. He'd seen Bruce as a monster, a vast black bat-shaped shadow with fiery eyes and a mouthful of fangs. Standard B-movie stuff, honestly, but on fear toxin it had been gut-clenchingly real.

Charging up his sticks, Dick returned to the fray. One of the men saw him, dropped his gun, and shrieked, stumbling into a run. Dick grimaced and let him go. There was no point in trying to subdue such a man, he could hurt himself severely while trying to get away. Tim got that one with a dose of knockout gas, and Dick nodded to him.

Dick was just glad the nose filters they all had in were blocking out the smells. Not only was the fear toxin a thick chemical miasma, many of the men caught up in it had vomited … or worse. When fear-sweat was the _least_ objectionable odor in the air, they definitely had a problem.

He knocked a gun out of one man's hands, then dropped him and turned to the next, treating the whole warehouse as a problem to be solved. At least this version of fear toxin was more focused, and none of the opponents saw _all_ of them as the nightmare Batman.

Then again, Batman wasn't everyone's worst fear. Somewhere, Dick could hear a man crying out, "No, Daddy, please don't," and it made him nauseous. Not just at hearing a grown man blubber like a terrified child, though that was awful in itself. Fear toxin was horrible, it reached right down past all the layers of deflection to buried traumas, and breathed life into them.

Thinking that, Dick heard a horrified scream through his comm, and his heart seized. "That's K!" he called, looking to Bruce.

"She can handle herself," he replied grimly, flinging a Batarang past Dick's face, and into the chest of the man behind him, who'd been raising a tire iron to brain him. It was too narrow a miss, and with worry gnawing at him he returned his attention to fight all around him.

"I've got them, she'll be all right," Babs said, and Dick trusted her to keep Jay and Kala safe.

He didn't have much other choice.

…

Kala's blood was up from the chase, and she came around the building quickly, a certain predatory joy sparking in her soul. It was easy, almost routine, to outflank and cut off the fleeing villain, and she was stationed at the alley waiting for Crane to come running out.

He burst through the door, and he had to be hotly pursued, because he didn't even see her. He was turning, looking behind him for Jay, and reaching into his coat for a weapon. Kala reacted automatically, lunging toward him, and his momentum smacked into her, both of them fetching up against the opposite wall. She was already reaching for his wrist, ready to pin it and neutralize the weapon, and even in that small space of time she looked into his eyes.

He wasn't wearing the burlap Scarecrow mask, that was just Dr. Crane looking at her, and his eyes were the very same blue as her brother's. Only Jason had never looked so hopelessly beaten. For a split second, Kala saw the boy this man had once been, and all the notes in his file about bullying and abuse declared themselves to her mind. It was worth an instant's pity, even as she moved to restrain him, reaching for her zip ties.

The weapon he held wasn't a gun.

It was some kind of spray canister, and he triggered it, and even with Kala holding his arm pinned to the side, he had just enough mobility to turn it toward her face. She flinched, shutting her eyes, clamping her mouth shut, and trying not to breathe through her nose despite having the filters in. The spray settled on her face like a fine mist, reminding her absurdly of makeup-setting spray before a photo shoot, and then his other hand shot forward into her gut.

That was a desperate blow, given with all of his strength, and Kala felt something crackle as he punched her. His knuckles, probably, given her armor and invulnerability, but the surprise made her eyes fly open.

And made her gasp.

Her nasal filters protected her nose, but her mouth opened just a little, and the toxic spray was bitter on her lips and tongue. _God fucking dammit, not_ _ **this**_ _shit again!_ she thought furiously, shying back from him and remembering Ivy's damned kiss. Kala swung Crane by her grip on his wrist, releasing him to smack against the opposite wall, while she tried to back out of the cloud of toxin, already coughing it out.

But it was in her mouth, her coughing was drawing more of it in, and despite her attempts to escape, she could already feel her heart pounding faster. _No wonder all the boys have such chiseled jawlines, they're running around with their teeth clenched all the time,_ Kala thought despairingly. _I'm gonna start wearing a fucking gas mask to work here…_

The alley twisted around her, and Kala's eyes went wide as crystal grew up over the bricks. She knew this place, and she knew who was coming to hunt her through it. A nightmare come to life, and she couldn't bear to see his radiation-whitened eyes, not in her waking hours. Kala threw her head back and screamed, ignoring Crane as he limped off behind her, trying to hold tight to what was real.

…

"K!" Jay yelled as he cleared the door, and she turned toward him, coughing. He registered Crane a little distance away, and reached for his gun loaded with tranqs, but Kala's gaze fixed on him. She didn't keep the Starlite lenses down on a normal patrol, so he saw her pupils dilate, turning her hazel eyes dark and glassy.

Jay froze, and that probably saved his life.

She thundered at him in what he now recognized as Kryptonese, and his blood ran cold as Kala hovered a few feet off the ground. He only knew the language from her nightmare, and that gave him a pretty good idea of what she was seeing now. Jay took his hand off his gun and raised both of them, slowly, watching her with dread as her jaw tightened and her hands balled into fists. _Not again._ _Ah, fuck, this is_ _ **not**_ _how I want to go out,_ he thought.

Kala spoke again, a demand clear in her tone, and he tried to keep his voice steady in answer. "K, it's me. It's _Red._ Relax, let me get the antidote into you, everything's gonna be fine." From the comm, he heard Babs acknowledging the situation, but there wasn't much else she could do at the moment.

She _growled_ , floating toward him, and somehow she managed to turn that into a predatory stalk without ever taking a step. This wasn't Kala anymore, it was the Empress, and Crane was just lucky he'd gotten away. It made perfect sense, the Empress existed to protect Kala, that ego state was her last-ditch survival defense system.

The last time Jay had seen the Empress, she'd been curious about him – enraged by Ivy's attempt at control, but once the immediate threat was out of sight, she'd focused on him instead. Now she was shaking with fear, and it only fed her wrath. Any second now, she'd decide he was a threat best neutralized with extreme force. He _had_ to calm her down somehow. "I won't hurt you, K. But I can't understand you. Tell me in English. Please."

"We both know full well that you understand our tongue, Dru-Zod," she replied, her voice roughened by terror. That rigidly formal speech sounded odd with so much fear in it, but then, the Empress never spoke any other way. "Cease your dissembling, and tell me how it is that you survived."

"I'm not Zod," Jay told her, gentle and soft, but she snarled anyway, and now he saw the red sparks in her pupils that he always thought of as pilot lights. Jay felt his vision sharpen, his mouth going dry, as adrenaline pumped into his body just when he needed to be calm. He couldn't help it, the threat was too real. "K, listen to me, I'm not Zod. Since when does he talk like this?"

"A cunning foe learns to mimic his prey," she mused, but she hadn't flash-fried him yet. There had to be a way to convince her, something he could do, some way to prove beyond any shadow of a doubt that he wasn't her greatest fear. Right now she was only holding back because she needed to know how he'd come back from the dead, and even in this extreme of terror and fury Jay admired that about Kala.

Speaking of admiring, a kiss might prove he wasn't Zod … but that was way outside the limits of even Jay's skewed notion of sensible actions. She'd knock him into orbit if he tried that; hell, she'd toast him if he even tried to get close.

He had a spray canister of the antidote in his pocket. He just had to settle her down long enough to get it into her.

Something he remembered from old videos occurred to him, and Jay managed a small smile of relief. "Think, Kala," he said. "I can't be Zod. Would he ever kneel before you?" And saying so, he lowered himself carefully to one knee, bowing his head.

A tense, listening silence from her, and that was about the best he could expect, though Jay's instincts screamed at him not to let himself be vulnerable before anything as dangerous as she was. Still, he knelt, knowing perfectly well that she could dart across and strike the nape of his neck and shatter his spine before he was even aware of her moving.

In the field, if you didn't trust your partner, you might as well be dead already.

Jay heard only her panting breath, and risked a glance toward her. He got a nasty shock as he saw her boots just an arms-length away; she'd floated closer, and hell, she didn't need to hit him. She could literally kill him with a look, a lance of heat vision down the back of his neck and it'd be lights out. Jay forced himself to keep still, even with his skin crawling, and then she growled, "Who are you, then, who looks so like him?"

"I'm Jay. Red Hood. You know, your partner. You're hallucinating right now, that's why you see me as Zod." He looked up, carefully, and saw her considering. Good, if she was thinking about it he still had a chance. Her expression was distant, all the warmth and immediacy bled from it—but that was the Empress, not the fear toxin.

"Hallucinating," she said thoughtfully. "Perhaps. Prove that you are the Red Hood."

Jay took a deep breath and let it out. Maybe he could use this as a chance to bring her down from it, too. "We went on a brunch date today, you and me, to Hong Kong. The chili crabs were a damn good idea, by the way. On the way back, we stopped by so you could meet Julio and Carl, and then once we were at my place, I had you for dessert."

She tilted her head. "Yes, only Red Hood could know what passed between himself and the girl. Why then do I see you as the General? And why does my heart still race with fear, when you speak only conciliation?"

"Scarecrow hit you with his new fear toxin," Jay said. "You've got nasal filters in, but he must've gotten it in your mouth. It makes you see the next person you encounter as your greatest fear. And I'm the lucky winner."

"Yes, we fear Dru-Zod above all else," she said musingly. "Where is this villain Scarecrow? He will answer for having drugged me."

"Hold on there," Jay said. "You need the antidote first. I've got it right here – just spray it up your nose." Slowly, carefully, he reached into his pocket and came out with the antidote.

Kala looked at it, and her eyes were still lit by those red sparks. If not for that, Jay would've been amazed at how steady she seemed, even under the fear toxin. But then, Kala didn't run from anything she feared; she attacked it, usually as the Empress. And right now, he was in her sights. "If that is truly the antidote, then prove your trustworthiness by inhaling it first."

Jay frowned, and touched the side of his helmet so she'd know he was speaking into his comm. "O, is the antidote safe for someone who hasn't been exposed to fear toxin?"

"Yes," came the crisp reply, and Kala heard it too, narrowing her eyes a little. "It might make you nauseous, and increase your blood pressure, but the side effects are mild."

"Here goes, then," Jay said with a shrug, and unsnapped his helmet. The spray canister held four measured doses, and he fired it, sniffing deeply despite the way it stung his sinuses. Wincing, he held it out to Kala. "Your turn, K."

She took it from him, looking over the canister worriedly, and then sprayed it. Kala gave a hiss and shook her head, coughing once. Jay watched her hopefully, and when she landed, he began to think this would turn out all right.

Except she didn't downshift, that was still clearly the Empress who turned toward him, and even though her eyes were hazel again, they were still inhumanly cold. "Oracle, where is the Scarecrow?" she asked.

"Scanning," came the reply, and Jay heard the skepticism despite the digitizer. "Situation normal, Hood?"

He scoffed. "Situation Empress, but it's all good. We've got it under control."

"Are you sure about that?" Her tone was doubtful; they'd never planned to run the Empress in the field. All of their contingencies were about stopping her. No one had ever considered that she might join them.

Kala spoke up then. "Affirmative, Oracle. The toxin has abated; I am well. Now help us hunt this Scarecrow, who had the audacity to drug me."

Jay could imagine the thoughts running through Babs' mind as she hesitated. It was damn dangerous to turn Dark Kala loose on _anyone_ , but trying to stop her from going after Crane was equally dangerous. Hell, doing anything at this point was dangerous. The Empress was basically a bomb, clichéd as it was. With no reliable way to defuse her, their choices were containment … or controlled detonation. And a very flimsy definition of 'controlled', at that.

"I'll help you on one condition," Babs finally said.

"And what is that?" Kala replied, sounding impatient.

Jay heard the extra background static as Babs laid in another layer of encryption. "Give me your word of honor as a daughter of Krypton and the House of El that you will not kill, maim, or otherwise unnecessarily harm Scarecrow when you catch him—the definition of 'unnecessary harm' being Red Hood's."

Kala narrowed her eyes, and Jay sucked in a deep breath. Holy _shit_ , O was gonna go for it. He couldn't decide if he was terrified by the prospect of being the one in charge of telling K when enough was enough, or thrilled beyond measure by the notion that he could go hunting with the Empress. On any ordinary day, patrol with Kala was like … like having a fighter jet for backup. _Dark_ Kala? Fuck, that was like patrolling with one of those top-secret experimental military jets for company. Half of him wanted to yell, 'What are you _thinking_?!' into the comm, the other half wanted to whisper, 'I promise to be a very good boy if I get to play with her just this once…'

Those hazel eyes rolled toward him. "And what is your definition of 'unnecessary harm', Jason Todd?" she asked.

 _Oh man, she's gotta stop with real names in the field,_ he thought, but then, _shit, she can say my address and social security number out loud as long as she does it in that voice._ Jay had to laugh at his own thought processes; yeah, he definitely had a fixation on her dark side.

At least he answered the question honestly. "We stop hitting when he stops fighting back. And no crunching him like a bug when we catch up to him. You wanna knock him out, fine, but no skull fractures." Her eyes narrowed, and Jay blew a sighing breath out of his nose. "Look, Scarecrow's a lethal motherfucker, but you need to read his dossier sometime. He deserves maybe a half-ounce of pity. And he didn't kill anyone today. We'll just thump him one and send him back to Arkham. If the asshole would _use_ that damn psyche degree of his on _himself_ , he'd be on our side."

"Very well," the Empress finally said. "We have an agreement, Oracle. Guide me."

Jay jammed his helmet back on, ready to protest the 'me'—he wasn't gonna play spectator, hell no—when Babs rattled off coordinates. And then he realized why Kala had said 'me' instead of 'us'.

She caught his arm and flew, without warning and at the kind of speed that would've made a lesser man scream like a little girl. Hell, even Jay yipped. Right, made no sense to give navigation instructions to both of them if he was just a passenger. "Hey, warn a guy, would ya?" he snapped when they landed.

The Empress didn't bother to respond. She was looking around; they had touched down in the middle of a crowded street, civilians running everywhere amidst jammed-up traffic caused by the earlier car chase. None of that concerned the Empress; the people might've been ants, for all she looked at them. Nor did she care about the cars, having perched them atop some rich prick's fancy Hummer.

It was hard to spot their target in this mess, but the crowd's panicked bolting seemed to have an epicenter, and Jay pointed it out. Kala flew there, a short hop, and they found themselves looking up a street that was one big traffic jam. "I'm watching the next intersection," Oracle informed them. "He's got to be somewhere in there."

Not quite finding a needle in a haystack, but irritating as shit. And the metal in the cars would play hell with Kala's x-ray vision. They had to do this the hard way, and Jay set out to do it, moving and checking, his gun already out—the bullets were nonlethal, but it didn't matter. The civilians still fled.

At his side, scanning the cars just as he was, Kala said, "Is it not amusing that Oracle placed the leash in _your_ hands?"

"And why's that funny?" Jay asked.

"You _are_ the Red Hood," she pointed out, and there was a darker note in that musical voice that called to him in all kinds of ways. "You are known above all else for having been the hero this city _deserves_. The one who would close the revolving door at Arkham Asylum and put the blackest of the filth in the grave where they belong. And to _you_ she entrusts the Scarecrow's life."

God, the way she talked … half of him wanted to drag her down an alley and unzip that suit, the other half wanted to shake her 'til her teeth rattled for misunderstanding. "I _used_ to kill them. That was then. And you know what it did, in the end? Not a whole fucking lot. I wiped out the dealers and new ones came in. It's a cycle that never ends. Killing won't fix it."

"There is one for whom death is the only answer," she told him, and his hair stood up on the back of his neck. The Empress continued, "The Joker is chaos incarnate. Should I encounter him again, I will silence his jackal's laugh forever."

"Joker's mine," Jay said roughly. "Not that I don't agree with you, but he's also not our problem tonight. Mind on the job, K."

She cut him a look … and then her head snapped around again, moving so fast he couldn't see it. "Scarecrow," Kala growled, and grabbed Jay's arm as she leaped, landing hard on a car's front bumper and flipping the damn thing. That exposed Scarecrow, who'd been crouching behind it. He'd had time to pull on his own mask, the creepy burlap sack, and he came up at them with the canister of fear toxin ready.

But Kala was _fast_ … and the Empress was faster. The car currently whipping through the air over their heads happened to be a convertible. Even as Jay was dropping and rolling, his gun up aiming a knockout dart at the foe, Kala was ripping the cloth cover off the car.

And then bundling up the Scarecrow's canister in it, so quickly that only a puff of toxin escaped. She flung that aside and _pounced_ , and all Jay could do was bellow, " _Don't you fuckin' kill him!_ "

The Empress _snarled_ like some kind of wild animal, both hands locked around Scarecrow's throat and her eyes shining red. But she didn't toast him, she just flung him to the ground. That was gonna hurt like hell tomorrow, Jay figured, but a whole lotta bruises and possibly whiplash were better than her shaking him like a rat until his neck snapped. He pushed past her, only peripherally registering her surprise at the contact, and dove in with zip-ties ready for Scarecrow's wrists and ankles. "Don't struggle, Doc, we're in no mood to play games," he spat.

"Someone has some _anger_ issues," Scarecrow said with a madman's laugh, and the Empress moved again, snatching his mask off—taking a handful of hair with it. Crane gave a yelp of pain that somehow made Jay want to punch him, but he controlled himself to just restraining the man.

Crane's wild blue eyes bored into Kala's as she loomed over him. Even as Jay shackled his feet, he said in professional tones, "I would _love_ to know how you threw off my toxin so quickly, Blur."

She smiled, a slow terrible smile, and the mocking light in Crane's eyes abruptly died. "What have I to fear in this world? You have only provoked my rage, doctor of lies." Her voice was almost a purr, and Jay could feel Crane recoil from it.

Luckily he had the man cuffed by then. "All right, he's harmless, let's go," he snapped.

The Empress countered that. "He is not harmless. His weapons are not to hand, they are up _here_." With that she tapped Crane's forehead, and he flinched. Kala grinned, and her eyes flared red again. "He will forever think of new ways to wreak havoc on this city, and endanger her citizens. I could render him _completely_ safe … and that is one more who shall not trouble us again…."

Jay pushed in between them, grabbing her shoulders and giving her a shake. "No, dammit, leave off! No brain surgery in the field!" he snapped. Not thinking about how untouchable the Empress was, or that she had the heat vision primed already, or even that he'd completely let go of Crane to confront her. The Empress looked utterly stunned at his presumptuous man-handling, and he shook her a little more. "You gave your word, now keep it! It's _my_ call, not yours, and I said we're done here!"

She blinked a few seconds more, and then gave an annoyed sigh, pulling back. "I did give my word. Very well. Let us take this cretin back to his cell."

Both of them looked toward Crane, only to find him on his feet and shuffling away as fast as his shackled ankles would let him. "You obnoxious fuck," Jay growled, and caught up with him, grabbing his arm. "Knock it off, you're done for the day."

Kala followed, and spoke into her comm. "Oracle, we have the Scarecrow in custody." With that, she caught hold of both Jay and Crane, and leaped for the air, landing at the Tumbler. It had a space behind the seats, and Jay caught sight of Crane's stunned expression as Kala lifted him one-handed to drop him in. Too much power on display, but he couldn't exactly stop her, and at least they were done.

"Well, I'd call that a success," Jay said with a sigh. "O, we're going to drop Scarecrow off at Arkham."

"Do you have plans to manage your partner?" Babs asked.

Jay looked across at Kala, meeting that cool speculative gaze, and grinned. "Yeah, if she doesn't come down from this, I'll just take her back to my place and make dinner for her. Who knows, I might get lucky."

She arched a brow at him, and Oracle sighed. "Let me call her father in."

"There is no need to involve Kal-El," Kala said. "The Red Hood has made his position quite clear. Unless we encounter the Joker tonight, you need not fear me."

"See? She's cool," Jay said, with a little trickle of unease he wouldn't let show. Normally mentioning her father snapped her out of it – he might actually have to come up with another way of dealing with the Empress. "I got this, O. C'mon, K, hop in the car and let's go deliver Crane."

"I can fly there more efficiently," she said.

"And I wanna keep you where I can see you," Jay replied. "Get in the car. Seriously."

She met his gaze, her own steady and calculating, then sighed and took her seat. "Do not be obstreperous."

"Don't use a ten-dollar word when 'asshole' suits better," Jay shot back, buckling up. Into the comm, he continued, "What's the situation back at the warehouse?"

"Contained," Babs replied. "B advises that you should bring the Blur back to the Roost."

"Not happening," Jay said, and then had to figure out how to justify that. "Last time he saw her, he got her hackles up. Let's keep this nice and quiet for now, and let her settle down."

Next, Bruce's voice over the comm, and Jay was shocked to hear those same alien syllables. Since when had he learned Kryptonese?

Kala, however, just curled her lip in a sneer. "Your accent is atrocious," she told him, as Jay desperately stifled laughter. What he wouldn't give to see Bruce's face right now! She continued, "I mean your son no harm. But I will not surrender while the author of so much misery lies mere feet away."

"Your language was not meant for the human larynx," Bruce replied. "Hood, _be careful_. I expect a report after you've transferred Crane to Arkham."

"Yes, sir," Jay said, keeping his tone professional, and drove, keenly aware of Kala's curious gaze – and the way she kept glancing back at their cargo.

…

At the Clock Tower, Babs turned off the mic and rubbed her temples. "He's going to try to sleep with her, I know he is. _God._ Dinah, save me from idiot adrenaline-junkie boys."

"I thought I did. Saved you from dating them, anyway," Dinah replied, coming up behind her and massaging her shoulders. "You think she's gonna go away quietly once they get rid of Scarecrow?"

"I hope so," Babs said fervently. "I wouldn't have expected her to stay spun up this long, but she saw him as General Zod. That's got to have long-lasting effects. She hasn't done the desensitization work I have."

Dinah didn't say that Babs would've been _forced_ to cope with her nightmare, even if she hadn't been stubborn enough to make herself look at Joker's ugly face until she could stop shaking. Joker was alive, after all, and Zod wasn't, thanks to Kala.

Sometimes Dinah wondered if Babs ever looked at Kala, and asked herself what would've happened if she'd had a weapon in her hand when Joker came calling. If Babs had put a permanent end to him, the way Kala had with Zod. She was wise enough to know that it wouldn't automatically be _better_ ; even if Babs had escaped without physical injury, she'd still have psychological scars. When a psychopath interfered in your life, it was damn hard to get away without some kind of trauma.

"We have to trust Jay," Babs said with a sigh, relaxing under Dinah's hands. "He's dealt with the Empress more than anyone else. And he's not afraid of her."

"Clearly," Dinah chuckled. "It must be a new thing for her, having someone who's glad to see her, and not freaked out."

"That's probably half the reason she's sticking around," Babs admitted. "She's curious about him the same way he is about her. I just _really_ hope he doesn't do anything monumentally stupid."

Dinah ran her hands up into Babs' hair, her fingers combing through it. "Oh, you know he will. Personally, I'm hoping she likes him enough not to break his arm when he _does_ try to shake her out of Empress mode by grabbing her ass, or something."

Babs winced. "That's _entirely_ too plausible. He was trying to flirt her out of it."

"Well, she broke his nose in the beginning, and that's what made him decide to train her instead of running her out of town," Dinah said thoughtfully. "The way Jay is about it, if she breaks his arm, he might propose."

Closing her eyes with a long-suffering sigh, Babs could only nod. "Let's just hope she decides she likes him better alive and uninjured."


	79. Pulled Me Down with You

Jay discovered that he didn't like turning his back on the Empress. She was just too damned blatantly threatening, hanging back with her gaze fixed on Scarecrow as Jay hauled him out at the front gates of Arkham. Part of him wanted to be very careful about her; it'd be too easy to let her make an end of Crane, and then what would stop them from hunting down Joker? She had a grudge against Ivy, too. Hell, they could wipe out Gotham's deadliest right here and now.

Except Kala would be horrified later, regardless of the outcome. Not Joker, Jay was pretty certain she'd end him without a shred of remorse, but the rest were different. And even Jay himself discovered that he wasn't quite as bloodthirsty as he had been. Maybe some of Gotham's worst deserved a chance to turn things around. He'd gotten a second chance, and now the dangerous and deadly Red Hood was the kind of person who had to decide things like whether to buy X-Boxes for the homeless kids he was supporting. Weirder things had happened, and maybe redemption was possible.

Which left him right back to the potential dangers of telling the Empress what not to do. She didn't take kindly to being ordered around. But it wasn't in Jay's nature to cower before anyone or anything, no matter how scary – or how dangerous.

Back in his training, Talia had taken him to a particular martial arts master living in the middle of nowhere in India. They'd had to stop their car on the isolated road to change a punctured tire, and at the time he'd been annoyed that Talia left that task to him.

Until she'd told him, in a quiet voice that brooked no opposition, to stand up slowly and turn around. And he'd done so, only to see a tiger standing in the road no more than twenty yards away, staring at them.

' _Do not run,'_ Talia had said, and when his hand dropped to the gun in his waistband she'd taken his arm. _'There is no need for that. He is only curious. Look him in the eye, and know that you are not his prey, and he will move on when he has looked his fill.'_ So Jay, who'd tangled with mafiosi and drug dealers and gangsters and masked villains, stood sweating in the humid heat and stared into the green eyes of the tiger, until it yawned and flicked its tail and vanished into the undergrowth.

Once it was gone, Talia had continued standing guard while Jay finished changing the tire, the back of his neck prickling and creeping the whole time. As they drove off, Talia had told him the law of the jungle as she understood it. _'Never show fear. Never show weakness. Not to beasts, or to men.'_ Which applied to the concrete jungle, too, and half of his reputation as Red Hood had been that he simply never let himself be intimidated. If he was out there trash-talking the Bats and demanding money from Black Mask, he _must_ be a force to be reckoned with.

So now, with something more dangerous than a dozen tigers standing behind him, Jay said in an almost insolent tone, "Knock it off, Blur." He zip-tied Crane to the gate, then headed back to the Tumbler, knowing the staff were already on their way. Jay just didn't want to hang around, in case anyone at Arkham wanted to do a psych survey on _him_.

"You are aware that he can escape such flimsy bonds," the Empress said archly. She tipped her chin up arrogantly, exactly the way Kala did, and it was weirdly disconcerting to see her do something so familiar where everything else about her was so distant.

"He doesn't have time," Jay replied. "Get in the car, K."

With one more mistrustful look at Scarecrow, she did so, though with obvious reluctance. "I am not your child to be ordered about."

Jay turned to look at her. "No, you're my partner. And my trainee. So I call the shots."

"Why?" she demanded, that low and cold voice defiant.

"I have more experience than you," Jay said. "Also, _**she**_ trusts me enough to follow my lead. That's why Oracle made you swear to follow my rules."

"I swore no such thing," she told him. "She demanded that I let you set the limits of engagement, against Scarecrow only. What I do _now_ is not for you to decide."

"You still got in the car," he pointed out, knowing the hair on the back of his neck was standing on end. This wasn't the same, they weren't hunting a dangerous man, and he wondered if maybe he hadn't been a little _too_ sure that she wouldn't turn on him.

"You are interesting," the Empress said, with a studied aloofness. Which meant she was trying to hide something, and Jay figured he might know what it was. He'd caught her interest, sure, and she knew everything Kala knew.

So he grinned. "Kala sure thinks so," he said, and smirked.

"You are also incredibly arrogant," she replied with studied calm, still not looking at him.

Jay piloted the Tumbler back to the Batcave, without telling her where they were going, and she didn't argue with him. But he felt the weight of her regard like he'd felt that tiger staring into him, as if she was looking into his soul. He tried to just drive casually, and when they got close he spoke into his comm. "We're almost back, O. Clearance for the Roost?"

"Granted," Babs said. "Bring K in for the debrief, please."

"Will do," Jay said, and he _knew_ the rest of them were making plans even now to try and shut her down. But hell, even with the sense of barely-withheld menace bleeding off her, he still didn't feel really _afraid_. Not of her, anyway. Mostly of the back of his own mind, that was wondering what it'd be like to go find some trouble with her at his side.

Or how it'd go down if he took her back to his apartment and made a little trouble of their own. Jay had always been drawn to dangerous women. For all her kind heart, Donna was a fighter he'd _never_ want to be on the wrong side of, and Rose had caught his attention with a sword poking between the joints of his armor. To say nothing of Talia, probably the clearest case of dangerously attractive. Kala herself hadn't entered his consciousness as more than a pretty little annoyance until she broke his nose. And now, this darkness in her called out to him. Talk about flirting with disaster, he was thinking about taking it home and getting it in bed. After a lovely first date cleaning up part of this miserable city.

No, he was being ridiculous. Jay could go find all kinds of trouble with Kala in her right mind, and know that nobody would end up dead. The Empress didn't come with those kinds of guarantees. And he still had to worry about what _Kala_ would think when it was all done. Those were her hands he'd be getting blood on, even if she wasn't herself. And if he did get her in bed, wouldn't that be cheating on Kala in a pretty shitty way? What would he say to her afterward, that it didn't count because it had been her body? She wouldn't take that as an excuse.

He jumped the Tumbler over the gap and parked it, the lights coming on, showing him Bruce and the boys up on one of the catwalks looking down at them. Jay got out, trying not to give away the game.

The Empress stood up with all of her deadly grace, and looked at them as well. Then she turned to him, those cool assessing eyes looking right through him. "They mean to drive me off," she stated.

Jay could lie to her … but she wouldn't trust him if she caught him at it. So he just said, "Looks like it."

She turned to look at them again, and he thought she might surrender. The Empress seemed fairly practical, she might just give up rather than fight her allies. Instead she said something quietly, something he didn't catch at first, and he didn't realize it had been 'No' until she'd come over the car, snatched him up by the jacket, and bolted for the sky.

Jay grabbed her arms, his head spinning with vertigo; no human was meant to go that fast, ever. And it wasn't like the careful acceleration she'd used to take them to Hong Kong in two hours; it felt like she hit top speed in under a second, and for a moment he was convinced his stomach had been left behind. When she stopped in a hover, he yipped, "Jesus _fuck_ , warn a guy before you do that shit!"

"Hood, report!" Babs snapped from his comm.

"I'm fine, we're over the city somewhere," he said, looking into the Empress' impassive face. "I don't think she's ready to settle down yet, just let me handle it."

"Your signal just moved thirteen miles in three seconds," Babs told him, her voice shaken. "If she's going to risk you, I'm sending reinforcements."

"O, I'm _fine_ ," Jay stressed, despite wanting to throw up from dizziness. But the Empress could hear both sides of the conversation, and she let go of him with one hand, reaching around to the back of his helmet.

Shit, she'd watched him take it off before, and Jay gave another yip of surprise as she pulled the helmet off and cast it aside. "Hey! I don't have that many of those!" he protested, as it fell the whole terrifying distance beneath their feet.

"That is not my concern," the Empress said, and plucked his domino off with the same ease, dropping it carelessly. Her own comm followed it a second later. "This constant interference grows irksome."

He couldn't show fear, even if the part of his mind that always calculated worst-case scenarios was wondering how many seconds it would take to fall from here. "You owe me for those," Jay said sternly. "And they're not cheap."

"The girl is more than capable of repaying you," she scoffed, and moved them again. His sense of speed and direction just kind of gave up, nerves lit up with signals that meant he should've been dead.

When she stopped, they were hovering over snow, and his hands were locked on her forearms convulsively. The Empress tilted her head and regarded him. "Do you truly think I would bring you all this way only to do you harm?"

"Too _fast_ ," Jay complained, his head spinning. "Jesus fuck on a speedboat, K, the human brain and body weren't meant to _do_ that!"

She paused, that impassive expression faltering, and the Empress looked more chagrined than he'd ever dreamed. In that instant, he could see a flash of his girl's guilt there. "My apologies. I forgot that it would disconcert you."

"Disconcert? Fuck, you're lucky I didn't disgorge," Jay shot back. "Where the fuck are we, Antarctica?"

She laughed, another thing he wouldn't have believed five minutes ago. "Hardly. Northern Canada. We can visit the southern pole another time, if you wish."

Canada. She'd taken them entirely out of the country in _seconds_. And Kala could've done this, too, if she wanted to she could've brought him to Hong Kong in a matter of minutes. The difference was, Kala remembered he was human, and handled him gently. The Empress … it was probably just as she said; she just forgot.

Jay swallowed, and thought fast. She _was_ a danger to him, whether she meant it or not; Kala was right when she said that she had no brakes like this. Kala Kal-El'd never been _up_ long enough to develop them. "Okay, fine, we're in Canada," Jay said. "K, you know you can't keep doing this. I'm gonna have to bring out the big guns."

She arched a brow, curious and unafraid. "As if your weapons could harm me."

Those weren't the guns he was talking about, and Jay had about a second to think that if this didn't work, he'd probably find out _exactly_ how long it took to fall from however high up they were.

He let go of her arms, caught her face, and pulled her close. Even now, he knew she could've stopped him, her strength was enough to keep him at bay, but he'd taken her by surprise. And he saw her eyes widen in the second before he closed his own, and kissed her.

Her lips were soft, stunned slack for a moment, and then she responded. Hesitant, careful, but she _did_ kiss him back, her hold on him softening to bring him closer. Jay ran his hands into her hair and kissed her thoroughly.

He expected her to gasp and pull away. But he thought that _his_ Kala would be back at home in her hazel eyes when she did so. Instead the Empress looked at him in wide-eyed amazement, trembling a little under his touch, and said in shocked tones, "What was _that_?"

"You knew exactly what that was a few hours ago," Jay told her. "And you liked it, too."

She blinked, then shook her head. The flustered look on her face spoke volumes, wary and just a bit hungry at the same time, despite herself. "I should not … my kind do not…"

"On Earth they do, or you wouldn't be here," Jay pointed out.

The Empress dropped her gaze then, clearly unsettled by this change in topics. There was a flush growing on her cheek, a flush he knew all too well. "It is deviancy," she replied, her voice soft. "Kryptonians evolved beyond gross mechanics. We have no need for such acts of passion."

"Well, I'm human, and we do need passion," Jay said. "It's part of what makes us who we are. Not that I'm gonna paw you up if you're not interested, but the part of you I know is pretty damn passionate, too."

That astonished gaze met his again, so much his K but not. "No one speaks to me as you do, Jason Todd," she said musingly.

Jay shrugged. "They're all afraid of you. I'm not."

"Why are you unafraid?" she demanded.

"If you wanted to hurt me, I'd already be dead," Jay said baldly. "And you're not the first woman I've slept with who could kill me in about a heartbeat. It's kind of a kink, with me. I'm not afraid because I figure I must be more interesting to you alive, or you wouldn't drag me to Canada just to get a few more minutes with me."

She nodded slowly. "You have faced more dangerous foes than I, after all."

"That, too," Jay said. "Joker might not have your power, but he's way more unpredictable. And you don't get your kicks by hurting innocent people."

"The innocent should be protected, always. I very nearly failed once before," she murmured, her eyes haunted. Jay looked at her and saw the girl in that encrypted file, just sixteen years old, making impossible choices with monsters on all sides of her. _That_ was who the Empress really was, a scared teenager with terrifying powers. And by the look on her face, she was all too aware of how easily she could fuck up and kill someone she'd never meant to hurt.

Jay sighed, and leaned his forehead against hers, his breath frosting in the cold night air. "Kala, listen," he told her. "The rest of them _are_ scared of you. They're looking for us right now. And you remember what happened the last time we didn't sign out a comm. I'm not looking for another scolding from Oracle."

"They fear that I will harm you," she said quietly. The thought seemed to sit badly with her, the way that she watched his expression.

"Yeah," Jay admitted. "They don't know you like I do. They're not used to running the risks I do."

"I would _never_ harm you, willingly or knowingly," she declared, and then looked abashed. "Please do not press me to do so."

"Why do you think I haven't tried to shake you out of this by anything more personal than a kiss?" he asked, and chuckled at her expression.

"You may be a fool, Jason Todd, but you are a cunning fool," she scolded.

"I'll take that," he said easily. "Look, Kala… I'd be perfectly happy to take you out for a spin. I look at you and I see possibilities. They see threats. And I love 'em, but they still don't realize I can take care of myself. They're gonna come after us. I can't let you hurt them, and I don't want them hurting you. So I need K back, okay?" A pause, as she looked at him, nothing cold or defensive in her now, and he looked deep into her eyes. "Please?"

She looked at him intently, then let go of his jacket to stroke one hand over his cheek, her gloved knuckles gentle on his bare skin. It raised Jay's hackles, reminding him too much of her goodbye at the airport, but the next thing he knew they wobbled a little in midair.

…

Kala Kal-El, who had almost been Kala Dru-Zod, stared at him thoughtfully. This man who woke such thoughts in her as to make her blood sing with sensations no proper Kryptonian had felt for a millennia, he asked that question so plainly, leaving her no room for polite refusal by way of misunderstanding.

Jason Todd, whose soul was as noble as the finest lineage of Krypton, for all that he was of another species considered quite backward by her kind. He prized his roughness, he sought the most uncouth means of expressing himself, but words mattered little against his actions. And he was such a man as pitted himself against the worst villains, a man steeped in the blood of violence, and yet whose callused hands could be trusted with the care of any child. He handled innocents awkwardly, but gently, with infinite compassion. He had seen darkness, lived in darkness, learned its secrets and used them nightly in his war on evil … but he cherished light, and to eyes that could see deeper than his coarse surface, he shone.

All that he did this night, he did to help her. He was the only one unafraid of her, he seemed to _enjoy_ her company, and for such a creature as she that fled the mere name of her family, that welcome was treasured. And yet, despite the way he stirred unmentionable emotions in her very soul, despite the look in his eye and the press of his lips on hers, he asked her to relinquish control.

No one had ever _asked_ her. The rest frightened her away, or the girl snatched it back once a threat was gone, but Jason Todd asked her.

What else could she do? She stroked her hand over his cheek, one last deliberate touch to savor, then gave a slow nod. "You are correct," the Empress murmured, and went back to her watchful perch somewhere deep in Kala's mind.

Kala gasped, her eyes widening again, but she saw relief on Jay's face, and there was only a instant's pause before she hugged him tight. "Oh my God, _Jay_ , I saw Dru-Zod … I saw _you_ as Dru-Zod, and I couldn't think…"

He hugged her right back, already reassuring her. "You did fine, K. We got Crane, no casualties. Well, except you owe me a helmet and a comm. And Oracle's gonna kick your ass for ditching your comm."

She looked confused, her brow furrowing, and then the memories rushed back. "Oh, _God_. Holy shit. Jay, how long have we been out of contact?"

"Like five minutes?" he hazarded. "We need to get back, too, but _please_ fly a little slower this time. Canada in ten seconds wasn't exactly good for my stomach."

She cupped his cheek then, looking intently into his eyes. "Are you all right? Jesus, Jay, that kind of speed could do internal damage!"

"I'm fine," he insisted. "Just real nauseous for a minute there. It went away, thankfully. I don't think the Empress would've appreciated the return of the deep-fried squid all over her suit."

Kala groaned, leaning her forehead against his. "Dammit. Okay, we'd better head back. And Jay … I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he said with a shrug, and a wicked gleam in his eye. "I had fun, and now we know the Empress doesn't mind a kiss. Although she said your kind don't _do_ that in the prissiest tone imaginable."

"Well, that's one thing she's right about. Kryptonians don't," Kala admitted, and started flying back at a more sensible pace.

"Then how…?" Jay began.

"Birthing matrix," she replied. "Our medicine was well advanced, compared to Earth. You get a DNA sample from each of a married couple – who might not even live in the same house – and the birthing matrix lets them combine, and nourishes the resulting embryo."

"But _why_?" Jay asked. "I mean, obviously you have the same equipment as humans, there had to be natural births…"

"The golden age of Krypton ended in a war, and a plague," Kala told him. "The survivors became _extreme_ germophobes. Most Kryptonians, by the last age of the planet, never touched another person except in extremely formal ways. The whole notion of swapping fluids would've been disgusting. That's one thing I never had to worry about with Dru-Zod, and let me tell you, I'm damn thankful for it. There were too many people in Luthor's hideaway who didn't have his inhibitions."

"I really hope most of 'em are dead, or I might have to start looking people up and paying some visits," Jay said.

She started to chuckle, but a voice boomed from above them, " _Kala Kal-El_."

…

Kala dropped a hundred feet with a yelp of surprise, Jay giving a strangled squeak of his own as he flung his arms around her neck. "Sorry, I'm sorry," she told him, holding him tight, while Jay hissed, "Don't _do_ that, Jesus fuck!"

They both looked up to see who had spoken: Superman, hovering in the moonlight with an expectant expression on his face, and Jay self-consciously unwrapped himself from the man's daughter. "Hi, Daddy," Kala said guiltily, and holy shit, she sounded like a little kid who'd been caught doing something naughty, like jumping on the bed.

"Are you all right?" he asked, more gently.

"Yes, I am now," Kala replied, her tone meek, slowly rising to a level with him.

"She's good, she wouldn't have hurt me," Jay said, and absolutely no way was he blushing. He'd grabbed onto her because they were _falling_ , and not even in an indecent way, but this was her _dad_.

"I'm more worried about everyone else," Kal-El said, but he gave them a small smile even as Kala winced. "Oracle told me you'd taken off your comm and bolted."

"I didn't want to be chased down," she admitted. "I got hit with fear toxin, and … I wasn't myself."

Jay saw a look cross his face, and wondered why the hell crooks ever bothered to defy him. This man, who was known for his slightly cheesy good humor and how gently he handled the fragile humans who fought him, could've wiped out a city in under ten seconds with a look like that on his handsome features. Both of them, father and daughter, really were on a godlike level.

"You took care of Scarecrow?" he asked.

"Back in Arkham already," Jay replied, trying to sound like this was normal, talking to his girlfriend's father a couple miles above the snowy ground.

"Good," Kal-El said. "Kala, you sure you're fine?"

"Jay snapped me out of it," she told him. "I'll swing by on my home tomorrow, okay?"

"All right," he said, and smiled broadly at her, and Jay could _feel_ Kala brighten under his gaze. Fuck, what _was_ it with him and daddy's girls?

Kala smiled, and Superman floated over to them, giving her a small kiss on the forehead. "I'll tell Oracle you're fine, and then I'll see you tomorrow, munchkin. Fly safe."

"I will, Daddy," Kala replied.

He looked at Jay then. "Take good care of her, Jay."

"Yes, sir," Jay replied.

"Good night," he told them both, and flew off.

Kala sighed, looking even guiltier, if possible, and Jay elbowed her in the side. When she turned to him, affronted, he raised his eyebrows and said, " _Munchkin_?"

"Shut up," Kala muttered, blushing. "He's my _dad_."

"Yeah, okay, _munchkin,_ " Jay replied. "Jesus, you magically turn like six years old when he shows up."

"I _will_ drop you, stop being a dick," Kala growled, heading south toward Gotham.

"Wrong brother, again," Jay replied.

"Yeah, he's almost as glad to see my dad as I am," Kala shot back.

"Well, he knows your dad has never thought about lasering his Little Richard off," Jay replied, and startled a bark of laughter from her.

" _Jay_! Good Lord, you're impossible," Kala groaned.

…

The bickering stopped when they landed at the Cave, and Kala headed inside with a hangdog expression. Dick and Tim met her first, but she looked past them to the bat-eared shadow that watched her much too carefully. "Hi guys, I'm fine," Kala said. "I'm sorry about the comms."

"And my helmet. Don't forget you owe me a helmet," Jay said jauntily.

Dick gave a sigh, sounding relieved, and went to hug her. "You scared us, K."

"I didn't mean to," she murmured back. "Crane scared _me_. I mean, that's kind of what he _does_ , but damn. I didn't … I still didn't expect _that_."

"No collateral damage beyond a pair of comms and Jason's helmet. No unnecessary harm to Scarecrow, either," Bruce said. "You're getting better at this."

"Yeah, that's why you sent my dad after me," Kala said, sounding defeated.

"According to him, you'd already recovered and were on your way back," Bruce replied.

Kala heard Babs' voice in their comms. "They weren't gone long enough to have sex. Ask Jay how he brought her out of it this time."

" _Babs!_ " Kala yelped, blushing.

"C'mon, Babs, not cool," Jay protested.

"No names on the comm," she laughed. "Since you can hear me, obviously, how _did_ you turn it around?"

Jay leaned close to Dick, so she'd hear every word. "I did what none of you would ever think to. And I want full credit for this one, Oracle. I _asked_ her. Politely."

"You what?" Dick said, and Bruce looked at him intently.

Jay shrugged. "I told her all of you were freaking out, and I needed K back. Easy-peasy lemon squeezy, guys. You all think she's Destroyer of Worlds, but she's just a defensive as hell kid with some serious weaponry. K, _you_ don't even need to be scared of her. You'd recognize her. She's you at sixteen with your back to a wall, making all the hard choices. All she needs to go away is to know that you're _safe_."

Kala blinked at him, and for the first time in too long, she began to feel less like she had a monster living in her mind.

Bruce nodded. "That fits the observations. Oracle, I assume you're updating the notes to include that low-impact interventions are to be preferred?"

"I type faster than you talk," Babs said. "Good work, Hood."

"I had a pretty good incentive to figure this one out," he replied, smirking at Kala. And she elbowed him on general principles.

"That's all for tonight," Bruce said. "Two-Face remains at large, but a significant portion of both his and Scarecrow's followers have been arrested. Things should be quiet, and Blur, you need to rest."

"I _am_ sorry," she said again.

"Don't be," Bruce told her. "What we do when faced with our deepest fears defines who we are. You didn't run, you didn't cower – and you didn't kill on sight. You fought through it, and stopped a very dangerous man from hurting anyone else tonight."

Praise from Batman was hard-won, and Kala straightened up a little. Of course, Dick grinned at her then. "You're still on the hook for two comms and a helmet." Kala chuckled a little, and they made their goodbyes before she flew Jay back to his apartment.

He looked queasy when she landed, and Kala turned to him with worry, but he shook his head. "Gotta let me drive, the next couple dates," he said with a crooked smile. "Turns out there's such a thing as too fast, even for me."

"Jay…" she murmured, frowning, but he pulled her close and hugged her.

"You did good, K. Nobody died, and you didn't splat me. Now c'mon, you need to sleep this off, and I won't even pester you for sex." Jay managed a laugh at that, and unlocked the door, disarming his security.

Kala just leaned close to him, wanting the surety of his presence – and his faith in her, which might have been a little greater than the situation warranted.

…

Pretty much as soon as they got in, Kala bombed out. Seemed like going Empress took a lot out of her, which made sense. In that state, she held nothing back, used her powers to their limit. And it had to be exhausting for Kala, trying to fight her way back to control.

Jay sat up a while, smoking and watching her sleep, idly checking the messages on his computer. Babs would have new comms out to them both tomorrow morning, and he had a helmet in storage he could pick up. It didn't surprise him that Babs had a domino in his size already wired for comms. She was always prepared.

He was also damn glad she hadn't needed to pull the trigger on whatever other contingency plans she had for dealing with the Empress. Sending _Superman_ out to the middle of nowhere just because Kala had ditched her comm seemed a little extreme. Big Blue had more important things to do … but because he _was_ Superman, nothing would ever be more important than his family. Jay was just glad he hadn't caught them kissing.

He'd spoken to Jay, too, and without any condemnation. Maybe that was cautious approval. If Jay could just keep from fucking this up and burning it down like he usually did, maybe he could stop worrying about getting important bits of his anatomy lasered off. At least, from her dad. Her brother was probably still pissed off.

Jay stubbed out his cigarette, looking at Kala. She slept restlessly tonight, rolling over and kicking the blankets free around her feet. That was the real question, wasn't it? Whether or not he could keep from atom-bombing this bridge they'd built?

Every single relationship he'd ever had, as soon as it got real, it ended badly. Well, okay, maybe not _as soon as_ , but still. After losing his father and his mother, Jay had been damn wary of clinging to Bruce like that. He'd given in eventually, and given his heart to the mission and the Bat and the guy who benched him for having the flu, then sat out the night watching old movies with him. Things got rough in his teenage years, recognizing that even the Batman made mistakes, that no adults were infallible, except maybe Alfred. Jay had come to rely on Bruce, to look at him like a father, but as soon as it got tough Jay had gone looking for a mythical figure, a mom who had loved him and maybe hadn't wanted to leave him behind.

He'd found Sheila, and lost himself, and lost Bruce in the aftermath. They'd gone a long way to repairing their relationship this summer, but it'd never quite be the same. Jay had lost whatever was left of his innocence, and he didn't trust anyone to take care of him like that anymore. He trusted partners, on rare occasions, but never parents. Not again.

His romantic history was just as fucked. Oh, he'd fallen hard for Donna, who wouldn't? Hell, who _hadn't_? Everybody loved Donna, she was just _good_ in some of the same ways Kala was, but it turned out that Donna had some cracks underneath that perfect façade. Donna had tried heroes, and it never worked out, and she tried a civvie, and the normal life imploded when her husband and son died. So she tried a bad boy, and that's what Jay really was to her, an experiment. It'd been good for both of them for a while, he'd let her break out of the shell everyone else put her in, but at the end of the day she wanted normal. And Jay, who'd never had it, resented normalcy.

Just about the time he'd begun to think that her making dinner for him every evening and watching the nightly news together might be something he could get used to, she'd said Dick's name in bed. And that all went to hell right there, because fuck, he had a whole other set of issues about people trying to slot him into someone else's spot. That went back to Bruce, too, making him Robin instead of giving him his own sidekick name.

Rose didn't stick around long enough for it to get too real, and for a while after Donna, Jay had done the same. Civilians, for a night or a weekend, just to feel less lonely. Maybe Rose had the right of it.

But who was he kidding, he knew where the biggest trust issues came from. Jay laughed at himself, quietly, watching Kala sleep. Talia. So fucking much ran back to Talia. Another case of walking in someone else's shoes, but he'd done it on purpose that time. Way to finally have sex that wasn't for pay, in a grudge fuck for both of them, screwing over Bruce as much as they were screwing each other. Maybe things would've been different if that one night had been all it ever was, a twisted combination of sealing their pact and coming of age rite, one that ended with the gift of a deadly blade. But no, he'd ended up in her bed again, and Jay had really believed he meant something to Talia.

He didn't often admit it, but she meant something to him, too. At twenty he'd already been shy of saying 'love' out loud, something too rare and sacred to cheapen in speech, but damn, he'd loved her. And he'd believed she loved him, too. What else could move Talia to forsake her beloved, defy her father, and even risk herself on occasion?

He'd even said it to her once, damn near blind drunk, and Talia had stroked his hair and told him she was flattered. That cured him of ever saying it lightly again. But as time went on, he wondered about that answer, wondered if maybe she was just as leery of admitting things as he was. In London, after his bid to make Bruce pay had gone sideways, Jay had thought about just … running away. Both of them needed to get the fuck away from their dads, and with their skills, they could've done a whole lot of good in the world. Talia had the kind of resources and training that if she'd decided to, say, stop human trafficking on a global scale, they could've _done_ it. Eventually.

But even that young and that hormonally-infatuated, Jay still had some caution, and he'd gone snooping through her laptop to see where her head was at. And found his file.

Which, years later, she'd said was written for her father's eyes, and that made him wonder all over again if it had been real or not. If she was playing him now, telling him what he wanted to hear, in hopes of keeping a few of those strings she'd tied in place. Or if she'd really loved him, and done everything including creating that file with the knowledge that she'd have to maintain plausible deniability to her father. It wasn't good either way. She was either a master manipulator who never really cared about him, or she was just as broken and fucked-up as he was … and _still_ a master manipulator.

All of which left him with K, who didn't do manipulation. Or secrets. Everything was right there in her eyes, and her damn temper was too hot for her to play the long game. It was easy to see what K was feeling and thinking, just watch her body language and listen to her tone. She never made a secret of the times she thought he was being an asshole, and she never held back from snuggling up to him affectionately. Just because she hadn't said the words didn't mean he wasn't pretty sure of how she felt for him.

Jay found he couldn't say it. Not even in his own head. If he said it, even to himself, if he thought it, everything would come crashing down. He was just way too screwed up, and everyone who cared about him got hurt or even killed. Everyone he cared about got fallout, bad, and as often as not they hurt him in the process.

Kala rolled over then, sprawling on her back with all her limbs stretched out, and he chuckled at the sight of her. Like a damn starfish, taking over his bed, and then she curled up again, around his pillow this time. She gave a wordless murmur and buried her nose in it, sighing deeply. Just fucking adorable, and he couldn't say that about anyone else.

Fuck it. He was selfish enough to keep her. Maybe, as long as he didn't _say_ it, Jay could hold on to Kala and not have to lose her. He pulled back the blankets and touched her side gently, to let her know he was there.

Kala snuggled back into him, mumbling his name, and dragged his arm around her possessively. It struck him again how delicate she was, compared to him; he had about a hundred pounds on her, all of it muscle. He could wrap both her wrists in one hand.

And despite the appearance of fragility, she was stronger than him by several orders of magnitude. All of that power, wrapped up in this pretty little package, and she burrowed into him with a sleepy murmur of contentment.

Yeah, no matter what happened, he was gonna try to keep her.

…

Kala woke with the dawn, knowing she had to leave today and get back to the touring life. But at least she woke well-rested, and in Jay's arms. Kala caught his hand in hers, bringing it up to her lips for a kiss.

Jay just groaned, and held her tighter, and Kala let herself savor the feel of him wrapped around her. They snuggled in silence for long moments, then Jay asked in a sleep-rough voice, "You okay?"

"Yeah," Kala replied softly.

He kissed her shoulder, and announced, "'m gonna make coffee." Kala nodded, and the bed felt too big once he left it, so as soon as he left the bathroom, she got up to use the facilities. Examining her reflection, her hair was a wreck, as if she'd tossed and turned all night. Kala didn't remember any dreams, except for the sparkle of light through crystals. Whatever she'd dreamed, it hadn't been bad enough to wake her or Jay.

She came out to find Jay standing by the coffee maker, waiting for it to finish. In a tank top and boxers, with his hair just as disheveled as hers, he still managed to look pretty damn good, and she leaned against his back, sliding her arms around his waist. "Hey," Kala murmured.

"Hey, yourself," Jay rumbled back. He poured coffee for them both, remembering how she took it, and then they stepped apart to stand there sipping it, caffeine slowly percolating through sleep-fogged neurons.

Jay spoke first. "How much do you remember, of what the Empress does?"

Kala paused, and sighed. "I remember most of it, but like it didn't happen to me. It's like watching a movie … that's playing on the back seat screen of a minivan driving down the highway in front of me. Everything feels distant, like it could disconnect at any time." A pause, and she continued, "I've never talked about her with anyone. Not like this. My therapist, hidden in metaphors, and Mom and Dad some, but mostly I just tell them I'm dealing with it. It makes me feel crazy."

"Figures. You gotta talk to the craziest person you know about it." Jay said that lightly, but she was still stung.

"That is _not_ true," Kala protested. "You just like people to think you're crazy."

"Eight heads in a duffel bag, baby," Jay pointed out with a shrug. "I'm over it. The Lazarus Pit fucked me up good, yeah, and I probably wasn't completely right to start with. But hell, who is? Nobody sane does what we do. Except for the ones with powers."

Kala crossed her arms and stared at him. "I've got powers, and I'm not entirely sane. I basically have a Dark Passenger, and I know you read enough to get that reference."

He shook his head. "Nah, that doesn't count, because you're not driven to kill. The Empress is a last-ditch defense system, not a voice telling you what to do. She's _you_ , with the brakes off, doing whatever it takes to protect the rest of you."

She leaned back against the counter, thinking. "The weird thing is, with you she can sometimes be almost … nice. She's … interested in you, I think, because you don't shy back or threaten her, so she lets you get away with things no one else can… Annnd there I go, talking about myself in the third person. It'd make me feel crazy, anyway, but it's even worse because Dru-Zod used to do that all the time, at least when he first landed here." Kala spread her hands, unable to describe the strangeness of it, sighing. "This is the thing; trying to talk about her, about what happens, is so fucking _weird_."

Jay just shrugged. "I came back from the brain-dead. One of my exes ripped her own fucking eye out to be more like her daddy. Another is a goddamn Amazon who I'm pretty sure would be perfectly happy as a fifties housewife, apron and all, between missions. K, you're absolutely not the weirdest person I've slept with."

Kala couldn't help laughing at that. "Wow. When you put it _that_ way, yeah, I'm suddenly feeling a lot better about myself."

"You should. You're probably the only one who'd stock my fridge – don't think I haven't noticed that you snuck more food in – and also flip a car to catch a bad guy." Jay smirked at her. "That means you're a pretty damn good match for me, K. Shit, I buy industrial quantities of ammo, and I read fucking Jane Austen for fun. If you're nuts, at least we're the same kind of nuts."

For a minute, all she could do was stare at him in disbelief. This was the closest he'd ever gotten to saying it. Fighting to get her brain back online and not make it awkward, Kala huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, okay then, we'll be nuts together. I'm just glad no one was _in_ the car when I flipped it," she said, wincing.

Jay nudged her shoulder. "You're fine, no one was in it, and you even made sure to stop him from spraying the fear toxin everywhere. The Empress has more of you in her than you think. She was being careful. I know, 'cause she didn't slap my face around to the back of my head when I kissed her."

And that was a whole other can of worms, which Kala didn't really want to open. But since he'd brought it up… "Jay, you do push her. A lot."

He shrugged. "You gotta push people to figure out who they are."

She frowned up at him. "Yeah, and you push her in ways that are pretty damn dangerous. I don't think she'd intentionally hurt anyone I care about, but you got awfully personal with her. Even Babs thinks you're trying to sleep with her, and you have to admit, you have a history of sticking your dick in dangerous places." And never mind that she'd almost said something quite different from 'care about', if no less true. Hopefully he hadn't noticed that hesitation.

Jay laughed at that. "Yeah, yeah I do. And the Empress is probably the most dangerous person I've ever met. No wonder I'm not afraid of her, I don't have enough blood to run my brain when she's out and looking at me the way she does."

And there it was, with more truth than she had ever expected. Better address it now and get it over with, as much as she hated to. Kala drew in on herself a little, staring into her coffee, then made herself meet his gaze. "That's not what this is about, is it? Jay, I don't want to think you're that shallow, but tell me I'm not here just because you want to fuck my dark side."

He gave a sigh, rolling his shoulders. "Jesus fuck, K. I'm almost insulted."

It was all she had not to actively wince. Well, she had needed to be sure. "It's a valid question, all things considered," she said, her voice small.

Jay reached out and rumpled her hair. "C'mon, Kala. You're here 'cause I like you, and we fit together. We just _work_ , in bed, out of bed, on the street, even in Hong Kong. Not to mention, I didn't even _know_ you had a dark side when you first piqued my interest. Shit, if I only wanted to score the most dangerous lay on the planet, I'd've done it already."

She scoffed a little at that last, though the rest of it reassured her. " _Jay_. It wouldn't be that easy. I told you, Kryptonians don't _do_ that."

"Yeah, well, she looks at me like she's thinking about breaking a whole lotta taboos," Jay said, waggling his brows. "Maybe she gets that from you. Although, gotta admit, you're the better kisser. Must be all that experience with filthy human deviancy."

That...had not been what she was expecting at all. Kala could feel her cheeks warm at that, rolling her eyes to fob it off. "Oh my _God_ , Jay, shut up!"

"What else do you call it when you show up to a Wayne gala in a fancy dress and no panties?" Jay teased. "That was _very_ human of you, groping me on the bike halfway home – and then making sure we both enjoyed the ride in the garage. I think I pissed glitter for two days."

" _Jesus!_ Jay, stop it!" Kala laughed, blushing fiercely.

He beamed at her. "You see? I'd love to take your Empress hunting, but I think I'll keep the wicked human half in my bed. And my shower. And who knows, maybe we'll borrow the Batmobile next time."

She shook her head, her nose wrinkling. "Nope, nope, just 'cause Dick and Babs scored in the Batmobile doesn't mean we're gonna, too. Bruce practically _lives_ in that car."

Jay nodded. "Good point. That's fine, I need to take you for a spin in the Charger, maybe park it in the airport lot and make up for missed opportunities."

Oh, oh, and he was going on about _her_ and wicked? Oh, this man. Kala grinned at him then. "You, sir, are both impossible and irrepressible."

"Yeah, everyone thought _we_ were impossible, but we've been caught on camera," he replied with a shrug.

Sighing, she shook her head. What on earth was she going to do with him? Leaning up, Kala caught his chin and stole a kiss, gently biting his lower lip before she pulled away to look up at him. "This is why I keep you around. Who knows, Jay, maybe if you're lucky, we'll figure out how to manage the moon," she murmured with an affectionate smirk.

"Gonna need a space suit, I think. At least the helmet, 'cause I have to breathe," he said, and she laughed to realize he'd put serious thought into this. He just gave a shrug. "What? We could be the first people to have sex on the moon. That's an achievement."

"You're ridiculous, and every other synonym I haven't used for it yet," Kala said, smiling, and knew that everything she wasn't saying showed in her eyes. She wrapped her arms around him and leaned in close for a long hug.

"Nah, you've got the monopoly on ridiculous," Jay teased, nuzzling her hair. "You're the Goth Super."

"Shut up or I'll bite you again," Kala muttered, breathing in the scent of him.

He squeezed her tight, and said, "Promise? Depending on when you have to get back, we _might_ have time for some fun…"

Kala had to go see her parents before she headed out west, so she just leaned back and snapped her teeth gently at his nose. "Careful, Jay. I might decide that's all you want me around for."

"Nah, come on, you know beating up bad guys is part of it too," he teased, and kissed her. "Besides, maybe this is all _you_ keep _me_ around for. Every rock star's gotta have her boy toy, right? You just had to go upmarket and get yourself a Wayne."

The small apartment rang with Kala's delighted laughter.

* * *

 **Authors' Note:** This is the last chapter-chapter of _Into the Shadows_. It will be followed by two epilogue chapters, just to catch up with everyone and get the side plots lined up. But once we post the second epilogue, there will be a brief break while we work on the next fic in this series, _Chiaroscuro_. That story picks up a couple days after this one ends, but thematically it needs to be its own work. Also, this monster is around 600k now.

The authors would like to thank all of our lovely reviewers. JamesTKent, Dlander1701, Leena7, twrecks, Daisydreamer22, we love seeing your reviews pop up, and I hope that you and everyone else reading this have enjoyed it. Thank you all for following us, for favoriting the fic, and for leaving reviews. You are wonderful.

We'll see you soon in _Chiaroscuro_.


	80. Epilogue: Waiting for the Night to Fall

**Authors' Note:** Here is the first epilogue, checking in with pretty much all of the characters throughout Shadows. There will be one more epilogue, next Sunday, and then a few weeks hiatus before we start posting _Chiaroscuro_.

Speaking of which - Merriam-Webster lists the following relevant definitions for the term 'chiaroscuro'.

 _4 **:** the interplay of light and shadow on or as if on a surface _

_5 **:** the quality of being veiled or partly in shadow _

That's all the spoilers you're getting until it starts posting!

* * *

Kala had to be back on the West Coast by four – but four there was eight in Metropolis, and it gave her time for an early dinner with her parents. She'd called first, but still touched down on the terrace and made her way inside, calling, "I've come to poach your leftovers!"

"Hide your snacks, hide your fridge, the black hole in black lipstick has come 'round again," she heard her mother laugh. The delicious scent of marsala sauce drifted to Kala's nose, and she followed it.

" _Lois!_ " Clark scolded from the kitchen, and Kala ambled through the excitedly barking beagles to find both her parents there, though Lois was in more of a supervisory role. She caught her father reducing the sauce and admonishing his wife, "Don't call our daughter a black hole."

"Eats everything that gets in range, and nothing escapes," Lois snarked back, grinning at her daughter. Kala hugged her for a long, long moment, nose buried in Mom's shoulder as the sense of safety and security and _home_ wrapped around her. Amber and sandalwood always made her think of her mother. She always smelled like _warmth_. She joked with Jay about being a daddy's girl, but for the first three years of her life there had only been Mom and Jase, and no matter how strained it had been in her turbulent teenage years, that tie would never break.

"Hey, I got your metabolism, and I have to run Dad's powers on it," Kala replied with a shrug, finally stepping back, though Lois still held her shoulders affectionately. For a moment, they just beamed at each other. God, she'd missed her mother. "I had lunch in Hong Kong yesterday, and I've got a show in Seattle tonight. Takes a lotta calories to keep this express flight in the air."

"Yeah, and I hear you dropped into Canada last night, too," Lois pointed out, quirking up one eyebrow. "Trying to take the new beau to the Fortress?"

Kala winced at that. That had never even occurred to her; the implication was gross, the floating AI of Jor-El killed any of those thoughts. But then, too, there was far more up there than just the Giant Floating Head. Something to consider. "No, I just wanted to get away from everyone else. And I can't begin to tell you how weird it is to hear him called my beau or my boyfriend. Every time he even says girlfriend, which is even weirder, I get this knee-jerk twitch reaction, thinking he's gonna decide I'm trying to settle him down to a normal life. And he does _not_ do that well. Hell, _I_ don't even do that well."

"I know, my little vagabond," Lois said with a chuckle. "I understand not wanting to use high-school terminology. But forgive your dad and I if we're leery of saying 'your lover', all right?"

A suspicious clatter from her father seemed to indicate he'd almost dropped the pan, and Kala leaned her forehead against her mom's shoulder with a groan. " _ **Mom**_. _Please_ don't do that. Look, I had to spend my whole childhood pretending that you two weren't ridiculously in love and I didn't know why you locked the bedroom door. I'm trying to keep you from being just as grossed out. Also, we're leaving all four-letter words that start with 'l' out of the discussion. He's been burned pretty bad, and I might've overused it myself."

Lois nodded, patting her hair. "Let me guess. You're calling it 'partners with benefits', then?"

" _Mom!_ Just partners. Please. It's less complicated."

Clark cleared his throat then. "Whatever you call him, we know he's important to you. When are you bringing him by for dinner?"

Another heartfelt groan. " _Dad_. You _already_ know Jay."

"I haven't had a conversation more than five minutes long with him since he was fifteen," Clark pointed out. "He used to be a fan, you know. All Bruce's boys were, and it drives him bonkers. Ask Jay if he still has my autograph."

That had her blinking in surprise. Kala turned to him, curious. It was news to her, and she probably _would_ ask, but for the sake of argument she said, "Daddy, I am not going to ask my partner if he still has an autograph from my father, who happens to be _Superman_."

Clark nodded sagely, but couldn't hide his playful smile. "They say there's always an age where kids are ashamed of their parents."

Her heart briefly plummeted into her stomach. Kala knew without a doubt that her father was just teasing her, but that struck her harder than it was meant to. As if there was even the slightest possibility in the universe. " _Daddy!_ That's not fair and you know it!" Kala scowled, and hurried to her father's side, hugging him tight.

He laughed, giving her a squeeze that lifted her off her feet. "I know, munchkin. I'm just teasing you."

"And making her pout like a six-year-old," Lois added dryly.

Kala stuck her tongue out at her mom, and then looked seriously up at her dad. "By the way, I will have you know, sir, I'm getting unending crap for 'munchkin' now. If I know Jay, he's gonna try to get Babs to make it my freaking call sign."

"All right, sweetheart, I'll stop calling you that," Clark said.

Well, when faced with that, distress set in. Yeah, no. Who cared what Jay said, anyway. She shook her head emphatically at her father. "No, don't you dare, I just … _ugh_. I'll put up with the teasing. I can always call him Robin."

Clark smiled, and kissed her hair. "Let me finish this, okay? But feel free to tell me how last night shook out. Oracle was very cryptic."

Kala stepped away, leaning on the counter between both parents. "So, I managed to get a mouthful of fear toxin. Not a good time. It's a new formula Crane's been working on, that makes you see your single greatest fear superimposed on the next person you meet. Nasty stuff. You can guess who I saw, and why I went from zero to Empress in about a second."

The look that came over Mom at that was both beautiful and terrible. Lois growled, "What I wouldn't give for ten minutes alone with Luthor. I'd wring his miserable neck, even now. All of that from Nevada is _his_ damn fault." Even as the only member of the family with no powers, Lois Lane had always been the one to fight the hardest for the her children. Both times misadventure had stolen away the twins, she had been the first to face down the threats. She only had one kidney to prove that.

Kala looked at her and nodded slowly, understanding the depth of that rage. She was more furious at Joker, personally, for all he'd done to Jay, and her own hatred of Luthor came more from what he'd done to her parents than what he'd done to her. "Yeah, well, we're probably lucky it was me he got instead of Jase. I'm still pissed at him, but I wouldn't wish this on Jase. And they were prepared for his powers and his mindset, not mine." A deep breath, let out in a sigh, and she added, "Jase sees too much in black and white. He never would've thrown in with Dru-Zod. And I don't know if I would've survived without him."

A faint, unimportant crackle, and Clark said aloud, "Darn." Then he picked the pieces of the shattered wooden spoon he'd been using out of the pan, tossing them in the trash.

It was only then that it hit her what she had said. Damn, there were so many other ways she could have phrased that. Her father still had as many regrets about the confrontation as she did and she knew it. "Sorry, Daddy," Kala said, kicking herself for being thoughtless.

Kala knew it was Kal-El that looked up her then, catching her gaze, and those royal blue eyes were arresting. " _You_ have nothing for which to apologize," he told her, and then softened from the formal phrasing of Kryptonese. "I'm the one who should apologize to you. It's been all this time, and I still can't talk about almost losing my daughter without losing my temper."

Her heart just about broke then, reminded again just how much she loved him, her poor father who always tried so hard to never let the dark score him. Someday, someday she would find a way to chase the light as well as he did. _"I love you, Father. I will never again allow myself to be taken from you_ ," Kala told him fervently, knowing Lois knew enough Kryptonese to follow. She had to scrub at her eyes to keep the tears from falling, switching back to English. "It's not your fault, either. I'm the dummy who ran away from home. And stole three grand out of the freezer, remember."

"Yeah, we never did ground you for that," Lois said with forced lightness, inserting herself enough in the conversation again to shove the black cloud that had formed in it away. It really had become her own super-power, the redirection of Kryptonian seriousness. "You've got the cash now, we should make you pay it back with interest."

Seeing where she was going with it, Kala jumped at it with relief. "Hey, you got it back when you got my backpack from Nevada!"

Lois snorted amusement, tipping her a slight wink. "I could charge you interest for the time it was gone. Or just charge you a hundred dollars per gray hair I acquired that summer."

Getting the hint, Dad let it go with a sigh. Clark got down another spoon and resumed stirring, looking at them both fondly. "Lois, I thought you blamed most of those on me. And got me back for them when you stripped the dye out and went from black to silver in a day."

She shrugged, and Kala saw her own gesture on her mother's slighter frame. "It was getting time to admit I'm not twenty-something anymore. I had a good long run of lying about my age, after all. Anyway, Kala, you were telling us about last night?"

She sighed, rolling her shoulders to release the tension. "Jay talked me down. I … if it had been anyone but him, they probably wouldn't have survived. He doesn't understand Kryptonese but he's heard it before, so he figured out what I was seeing. And he knew the best way to prove he wasn't really Dru-Zod was to kneel before me." Kala paused, and shook her head. "That took a _lot_ of guts. I don't know if I could've done it, considering I was threatening him. Pacifism isn't his style, but somehow Jay managed it."

"He was always a smart kid," Lois said. "So that snapped you out of it?"

"No," Kala admitted. "But it got me calmed down enough to take the antidote. And then all she – I – all the Empress wanted was to go get Scarecrow. Babs decided to let me, but she made me promise not to hurt him. She trusted Jay to hold me back, and he did. We brought Crane in without any injuries."

"So how did you get to Canada from there?" Clark asked gently, putting the chicken back into the sauce. Kala knew what he was asking. Most of her slips as the Empress had been isolated incidents, of very limited duration. She had to be utterly furious or deeply terrified for her mind to jump into that particular gear, and until this summer when she started training in earnest, her life just hadn't contained enough rage or fear to trigger it for more than a few seconds. If she started to lose her temper and her phrasing went formal, her family could usually redirect her just by pointing it out.

Gotham … the city brought that out in her. Sometimes just by the sheer horror that happened there, and Kala couldn't forget that first moment of disbelief when Jay opened the cooler, and then the nausea as she realized those were _human organs_ inside. Gotham tested her control just being itself. And then the villains had managed to summon the Empress three times in as many months, with kryptonite, mind control, and fear toxin. If Kala _hadn't_ been making amazing progress, if she hadn't learned some crucial things about herself, she would've been afraid to go back based on that alone.

"Everybody was worried about me," she said in a small voice. "Uncle Bruce, Babs, the boys, they all think… They're afraid of what I might do, when I'm not myself. Problem is, I _know_ they're afraid, and they were planning something to try and force me back to normal. No objections from me, but I couldn't force her out that time. The Empress didn't want to go, I couldn't stop her, so she grabbed Jay up and headed for the sky. And when that panicked them worse, she ditched the comms and flew north."

Clark nodded slowly. "It hurts, to be feared," he told her. "Especially by our friends."

Kala gave a tremulous smile. It had not been the same way, but he had certainly experienced it himself. "Yeah, it does. Jay the Adrenalin Junkie wasn't afraid, though. This crazy man thinks it's _fun_ to try and find new ways of shaking me out of it. But last night, all he had to do was ask. He just _asked_ her. She let go, and let me back in, just because Jay asked her nicely."

Lois whistled softly, impressed. "That's a helluva lot of progress, baby girl, in just a few months." Kala turned to her, confused, and Lois pointed out, "You went to Gotham to get trained. I think you were looking for more than just getting your powers under control. You've got _that_ managed, too. And this is the first time I've ever heard you talk about Nevada, or the Empress, without shaking."

For a long moment, Kala just stared. They were right, she'd gotten the Empress pretty much under control, and she had Jay to thank for it. But something else occurred to her at the same time. Only in doing so, she'd turned her whole life upside down to the point where she'd lost Sebast, and that _still_ hurt. Feeling the deep empty feeling she had felt when she was alone reaching up to wrap its stifling fingers around her, she focused herself firmly on the topic at hand, and not the price she'd paid for it. Now wasn't the time. "Jay says she's not a monster. She's just a really well-tuned self-defense system. I kind of … she's still _dangerous_ , I don't want to downplay that part of it, ever. But I kind of agree with him."

Lois smiled broadly at her. "Then he's a smart man. You're my daughter – you'll always take care of yourself. But that doesn't make you a monster, sweetheart. It never did."

Kala hugged her again, and Clark patted her shoulder. "Sounds like he's been good for you, sweetheart. And that's all either of us could ever ask for."

She managed a chuckle at that. "Oh, he is, but he's still screwed up. We're just screwed up together, and we'll always have each other's backs."

Lois smirked at her, hazel eyes exactly like Kala's blazing with sharp good humor. "That's the best kind, isn't it? When you really get each other, and you can cover each other's weaknesses? God knows I have to look after the clueless Kansas beefcake, there."

"Mom!" Kala laughed. "Come _on_ , we are descended from Krypton's greatest scientist. Give Dad a _little_ credit."

Clark chuckled, "And I wouldn't say beefcake in front of our kids, _honey_."

Lois narrowed her eyes at him. "Watch it, buster. And Kala, street smarts and book smarts are two different things. _He_ knows who keeps him on the straight and narrow."

"Whereas I just keep you from falling from increasingly dangerous heights," Clark said.

"No guts, no glory," Lois shot back, and all of them laughed.

A pause, and as Clark started plating the pasta, he asked gently, "What about the band, and that whole situation?"

Kala let out a breath. He was being circumspect, but they both had a right to know. Sebast had been part of their lives for the last eight years too. "Yeah, can we table that one? I don't know completely what's up. The label's trying to win Sebast back, but I … I don't know. There were too many secrets. Maybe he was right. Maybe it's just gone too far. I don't know what's going to happen, or even what I should hope for."

She saw a complicated glance pass between her parents, and Lois give the slightest shake of her head. "That's fine, honey, sometimes it turns out like that. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. We were just checking in."

"Thanks, Mom," Kala sighed, but the delicious marsala had lost a little of its savor.

…

Babs swam steadily, for exercise and not for pleasure, though it _was_ a pleasure. She had a float at her knees, helping support her legs, but as she swept her arms through the water she felt the ripples as her legs tried to kick with the old memory of swimming. She hadn't been much of a swimmer, before, but now it was one of the few exercises she could do that let her feel like things still worked the way they used to. _Some_ nerve impulses got through, after all – she had sensation, and with the water to support, the signal to kick in time managed to produce a few faint movements. Nothing that would support her on land, of course, and truthfully, she didn't care. Babs had built herself a life as Oracle that was tailored to her abilities, not circumscribed by her limitations. This – the small rectangular pool with its current for her to exercise her strength against – was just a pleasant means of maintaining that life.

Dinah came and sat on the edge of the pool, watching her, trailing her fingers in the water. "I used to wonder, back in the day, why I always heard water in the background over the comm," she admitted. "I thought for a while that you had some kind of secret hideout behind a waterfall."

Babs laughed at her, and reached to turn off the current, just floating easily. "Kind of a surprise to find out the truth, wasn't it?"

Smiling, Dinah replied, "Well yeah. I knew you had a great voice. Didn't expect you to turn out to be such a hottie, too."

"Flatterer," Babs laughed, pulling herself up to the edge. "What's on your mind, Songbird?"

Dinah tucked a wet lock of hair behind Babs' ear. "These crazy kids, of course. Jay takes too damn many risks. He got away with it last night, but I know testosterone-poisoned adrenaline junkies. He can't help pushing. When's it going to be enough?"

"I think some of that will settle down, with time," Babs replied thoughtfully. "Bruce predicts doom and gloom, but then, he always sees the worst case scenario. That's why he's never surprised when things go south. He doesn't think they have the maturity to make the kind of commitment they're trying for here. But then, he's never been able to commit to anything smaller than a city, either."

Sighing, Dinah shook her head at Bruce. "He is _impossible_. I'm rooting for Kala and Jay, you know I am. Hopeless romantic, that's me."

"I am, too," Babs admitted. "But I'm more cautious optimist, maybe just a realist who hopes to be proven wrong. And it bothers me that I've never heard either of them say 'I love you,' despite it being _glaringly_ obvious to everyone around."

"Some people just aren't good at admitting it," Dinah replied, and bent to kiss the top of her head. "Especially Ollie, he was never good at saying what he felt. Which is why I'm glad I'm with someone who _can_ admit it. Even if it takes a hot blonde in fishnets sitting in her lap to make her finally say it."

Babs scoffed. "I was trying to protect you. I have more than my share of baggage."

"You think I _don't_?" Dinah asked. "We could compete for 'most messed up' but come on, we know Bruce has that trophy locked down. I've just got kids in Seattle I barely see anymore, between Gotham and the League. Speaking of which, one of them's coming to visit over Christmas. And bringing his daughter."

"It'll be good to see Roy again," Babs replied with a smile.

…

Selina had amused herself by lifting an entire set of silverware from Wayne Manor, which necessitated bringing it back a few days later and carefully infiltrating it back into the proper places. She liked putting one over on Bruce, but wouldn't upset Alfred for the world.

So of course, Alfred caught her at it. "Miss Selina, we have far more valuable items that are easier to fence," he told her.

"I was returning, not removing," she said, feeling an unpleasant flutter of what might be remorse.

"So I see," the butler said, and took the forks from her to place them back in velvet-lined cases. "Master Bruce would not notice the absence of these trifles. If you wish to pique his curiosity, the Faberge collection in the parlor would be a better choice."

In spite of herself, she grinned at that. She should've known Alfred wouldn't be flustered in the slightest. Selina leaned against the antique walnut buffet and crossed her arms. "You've got it all figured out, don't you? Ah, who cares, Bruce wouldn't be who he is without you, and none of the rest of us would be able to stand him for more than an hour if he wasn't."

"I'm certain I have no idea what you mean, Miss Selina," Alfred said equitably.

She rolled her eyes. "Be self-effacingly British about it, if you must. I…" She trailed off as her phone chirped. It wasn't a number she recognized, and she _should_ have been off all the telemarketers' lists. Selina frowned a little and let it go through to voicemail, which was just an automated message stating the number dialed could not be reached. Nothing personal, not even a repeat of the number itself.

"Trouble?" Alfred asked gently.

"Just something odd. I don't _get_ spam calls." She waited a moment, and sure enough whoever it was had left a message. Selina called her voicemail and pressed it to her ear.

"Hi Ms. Kyle, this is Carol, um, your website says you specialize in aggression issues? Well, uh, the court says I have to show evidence of trying to work on Caesar's behavior. He didn't _mean_ to bite that kid, I'm sure the little brat was teasing him, you know how kids are. Um, sorry, here's my number, I hope you can help us. We'll spare no expense." That wasn't a surprise, Selina automatically placed her manner of speech as high-society, the kind of rich that assume any problem could be fixed by throwing enough money at it.

How in the _hell_ had she gotten Selina's number? And what was this website she was talking about? And what was Caesar? Selina looked up, her brow furrowed, and saw Alfred waiting politely to be of service. "Hey, Alfred, could you do me a favor? If I give you a number, can you reverse-search it and tell me who it belongs to? This is just … it sounds like a wrong number, but she _said_ Ms. Kyle."

"I shall certainly look into it for you," Alfred replied, and it wasn't something that required the Bat-computer downstairs. He had a tablet in one pocket – because of course he did, Alfred was always prepared – and a few moments of searching revealed that the number was indeed registered to a Carol, who lived in Bristol with her husband, and whose life seemed unremarkable except for her wealth.

At least, until Alfred uncovered the court case the woman had mentioned. A neighbor had sued her over a _dog bite_. And her social media showed images of a smiling bottle blonde with a recent face-lift, skillfully done but Selina could tell. In many of them she was holding a small fluffy something-or-other that looked bad-tempered enough to bite. Then again, Selina was skeptical of most dogs.

"Okay, that's weird, why would she have _my_ number? She's looking for a dog trainer," Selina wondered.

"Perhaps we should search for your number, and see if any hits turn up, as it were," Alfred replied.

"Sure," Selina replied, and gave it to him, then added with a smirk, "You're awfully smooth at getting a girl's number. For what it's worth, Bruce already has this one."

"My dear, I have never been so uncouth as to make a study of how best to acquire phone numbers from attractive young women," Alfred said, with a touch of amusement. "Then again, such information is only of value if freely offered."

"I bet you were trouble, forty years ago," Selina chuckled.

The search turned up a hit, and Alfred murmured, "Oh, my word." Selina leaned close to see the screen, and bit back a number of expletives she didn't particularly want him to hear her say.

Ms. Kyle's Kanine Boot Kamp offered a variety of services, including in-home training, group sessions, and board and train. She appeared to be a specialist in aggression cases, and there was a photo of a woman who _looked_ just passingly like Selina herself, smiling at the camera with obviously capped teeth too bright to be natural, holding three enormous dogs on leashes, all of which looked like the kind that would just as soon eat the mailman as bark at him. There were glowing testimonials praising her innate knowledge of the doggy mind, and how she had an almost supernatural connection to the slobbering beasts. It even had Yelp reviews dating back a _year_.

Only one person could have done this. "I'm going to fucking _destroy_ her," Selina hissed, and realized Alfred was staring. "Sorry. It's Talia, getting me back. I should've went the extra mile and signed her up for Tinder. A _dog trainer_. _**Me**_. Ugh."

"You appear to need nothing further from me," Alfred said graciously. "Do try not to make your vengeance too costly, Miss Selina. Such battles of oneupmanship rarely end well."

"Don't worry, I won't do anything too crazy," Selina said, her mind already spinning as to how best to pay Talia back for _this_ one.

…

Harley snuggled up to her man, happiness washing through her like the aftermath of adrenaline, and Joker slipped an arm around her shoulders fondly. "Harley, Harley, Harley," he sighed. "The things you do to me, Harley-girl."

She giggled at his delighted tone, and outside the bedroom door, Bud whined softly. "Shut up, you mutt," Joker growled, and Harley nudged his side. Gently.

"It's okay, Bud," she called. "They just wanna be wherever I am, Puddin'."

"Yeah, doll, but there _are_ times in a man's life when he just does not want an audience," Joker chuckled. "Especially the kind of audience that sticks its cold nose against your toes when you're distracted."

She snuggled down into his embrace, listening to Bud turn around a few times before lying down outside the door. "What're we gonna do tomorrow, hon?" she asked.

"Same thing we do every day, Pinky. Try to take over the world. Or at least, the part of it that Batsy considers his." Joker stretched a little, getting more comfortable, and kissed Harley's hair.

"We're not gonna go put paid to Two-Face?" she asked.

"Nah, Harv's no fun. Besides he got a slap in both his faces, from Scarecrow and the Bat. Guess his coin led him wrong, or Lady Luck likes him down with the bottom feeders."

"What about Scarecrow? Some of his guys are still out there, they might know about this fancy new fear toxin he's brewed up. I thought we were gonna get some for ourselves." Harley traced aimless patterns on his chest as she spoke.

He rumbled with laughter. "Nah, I was just having some fun with Johnny-Boy. He's way too serious. And fear toxin? _Boring_. I don't need chemicals to scare a man. It's taking the easy way, and I'm a man of culture."

"Yeah, you are," Harley murmured dreamily. "So what's next? Whack a Bat?"

"He needs to come down a notch," Joker said drowsily, and then his voice grew stern. "Him and all of his little birdies. He's got a whole _flock_ , even the bluebird's home from Blüdhaven more often than not lately. And the little one, Red Robin, he's gotten so _dry_. None of them even know what fun is. Not like the zombie bird."

Harley went still and quiet. Joker couldn't seem to stop once he started talking about Red Hood, and his grip on her tightened as he spoke. " _He_ knows it's a game. Stealing my outfit, even. A little too poetic justice, maybe, I mean I already _did_ the crowbar thing, if he wanted to be original he shoulda brought his own tools. Kinda operatic, what he tried to do to the Bat … and y'know what _really_ grinds my gears, Harley my sweet?"

"You're hurting me," she whispered, as his fingers bit into her upper arm.

"The Bat _let him in_. I took his precious Robin-boy and turned him into hamburger, and somehow the brat _came back_ from that somehow, bigger and meaner than ever, I coulda got with that as a joke. What do you get when you kill a Robin? A Red Hood coming to peck your eyes out, it's _almost_ there. With a little coaching he coulda got it. But no, the kid just wanted drama, and Batsy gave him drama all right. Also another full body cast, which I very much appreciated, let me tell you. Six weeks of needing to scratch my nose and not able to so much as _twitch_."

"Ease up, Puddin'," Harley said, because he'd pulled her tight against his shoulder, and his green eyes were blank and distant.

"Not only did he _not_ stay dead like a good little birdie, he didn't stay _bad_ , either! Zombies are _never_ the good guys, it's like he's never even seen Romero. I didn't work that kid over with a crowbar and then blow him up just so he could _recover_ from all of it and go right back to being one of the good guys!"

He was snarling by then, and Harley knew her shoulder would bruise, but he didn't hear her telling him it hurt. _He never hears you, unless he wants to,_ Pam's voice whispered in her ear, and Harley couldn't shut that out either. _He doesn't_ _ **care**_ _if he hurts you. He doesn't care that you hate what he did to Robin. You never wanted to hurt a child, did you?_

Harley whimpered, and knew his nails were drawing blood. "It's not _fair_ ," Joker growled. "All my hard work, _gone_ , he doesn't even shiver when I call him out to his face, he's even got his sassy little girlfriend threatening me. Ha! Hasn't even been here half a year and she thinks she can speak to _me_ , and what kind of a name is _Blur_ , anyway?"

His hand tightened convulsively, and Harley yelped. Usually that earned her a smack, for being melodramatic, but this time Joker's eyes seemed to clear and he let her go. She sat up, rubbing her arm and biting her lip not to whimper.

"Aw, hell, Harls, now look what that rude little bird made me do," Joker murmured, and kissed her brow. "C'mere, honey, let Daddy kiss and make it better."

He could be so _sweet_ when he wanted to, and Harley let him fuss over her, he even rubbed some numbing cream into her arm and bandaged it up for her. Wanting to show him how much she loved him, how grateful she was for him taking care of her, she remembered that she'd met the Hood's girl. "Puddin', I met that Blur, y'know. She's some kinda meta."

He froze, his eyes blank again, and Harley cowered, sure he'd hit her for not mentioning it sooner. Of course he'd want to know, the Red Hood was one of his enduring obsessions, she should've told him first thing when she got back.

But Joker only tipped her chin up with a gentle hand. "Don't worry, Harley, nothing to be afraid of. That jumped-up little Goth chick with some speed didn't hurt you, did she?"

"Nah, not really," Harley said. "But I didn't get to hurt her much, either. Whatever she is, she can take a hit upside the head and shake it off. The boys chewed on her some, but even they didn't do much damage. Then again all the Batkids wear armor."

He nodded, stroking her hair out of her face absently. "She's more than speed, if the boys didn't gnaw off a limb or two. Tell me how you met her, sweetheart."

So Harley relayed it all, including the fact that she'd just broken out of Arkham with Pam, and how the Blur had thrown off Ivy's kiss in moments. "She wouldn't hurt the Hood, when Pammy asked her to, she snapped out of it. And if the Hood hadn't said something, I think she was getting ready to come at us. No more playing nice, that time."

Joker nodded again. "She's still _alive_ , too, and most people Ivy kissed wouldn't be. Hmm. A very interesting little meta she is. Y'know she burned me? When she and Hood took us down that night at the school, she fused the switch I was holding. I still haven't quite figured out how she did it. Melted it right into my hand, look."

The scar on his thumb was only about the size of a dime, but Harley kissed it anyway. And ignored her stomach flip-flopping about that night. The _schools_ , though, she couldn't handle all those schoolkids dying, hundreds of them, maybe thousands. It was all the same to Joker, but not to Harley. That was why she'd called in a message to the tip-line Oracle gave to the Suicide Squad, and _oy vey_ , she'd better not even _think_ that too hard, or Joker would see it in her eyes and kill her right here for betraying him.

 _This is why he doesn't know he has a daughter,_ Pam whispered in her mind, and she bit the inside of her cheek to silence her.

Joker wasn't looking at her, he was lost in thought somewhere, his thumb stroking Harley's cheek absently. "I wonder … hmm. Funny, one of _them_ in Gotham where the sun never shines, but all the pieces are there for a man smart enough to put them together."

"One of what?" Harley asked, wondering which pieces he'd seen that she hadn't. She and Pam had never figured out precisely what Blur's deal was, or the limit of her powers.

Joker smiled. "Don't worry your pretty head, honey," he said, and kissed her until she forgot the conversation, Pam's gloomy voice in her head, and everything outside this room.

…

Jay dropped by the Roost to gear up for the night; his apartment was a little too quiet, at the moment. Besides, his new domino didn't _quite_ fit underneath his backup helmet, so he needed to make a couple modifications that he had the tools for in his bunker … but the Cave had bigger workspaces.

"You could build the comm into the helmet," Tim said, watching him. "You don't really need to wear the domino under it."

"It's a habit, now," Jay replied. "Besides, it doesn't hurt to be known as the guy so paranoid about his identity that he wears a mask _under_ his helmet."

"You have to be paranoid, if you're gonna stand around Denver and let teenage fangirls film you kissing a rock star," Dick teased.

Jay narrowed his eyes at him. "You're just jealous because there's no footage of _you_ smooching a hot chick trending on Twitter."

"There could be," Dick said. "You wouldn't know, unless you search my name regularly."

"I keep tabs on all of you," Jay said.

"That's not creepy at all," Tim replied, frowning.

Jay scoffed at him. Now he had both brothers lurking around the worktable, and he didn't like to work with an audience. They had an hour or so before they were all heading out to mop up what they could of Dent's men and Crane's leftovers. He glanced at Tim and said, "What? You don't think it's weird when Babs does it. I have reliable information that she's got cameras in his apartment."

"She does," Dick admitted. "I'm thinking about putting a pole in my living room. Might as well give her something to look at."

Tim's facial expression at that mental image, as much as the image itself, made Jay laugh hard enough that he had to put down the domino. "Jesus _fuck_ , you're such a showboat. This is why Kala wasn't interested in you."

"No, Kala and I are too much alike, which is why we figured we'd be better off as friends," Dick said, hopping up on the edge of the table with negligent grace. "You've got a lot in common with her too, but enough difference to make it interesting."

"Every girl goes through her bad-boy phase," Jay shot back. "I'm just glad to get the benefit of hers. And _you_ are too damn much in love with her dad, _Nightwing_."

Dick just grinned. "I was worried she and Jase might be mad, you know. This is _their_ culture. I had Clark's blessing, but they could've been Nightwing and Flamebird."

Tim scoffed at both of them. "Yes, and then since most people don't realize that Nightwing and Flamebird are destined lovers, everyone would look at the two new linked Supers, and look at Lois Lane's twins, and they wouldn't have secret identities anymore. It's only a little worse than letting herself get filmed kissing Jay."

"You jealous, Tim? Got a little bit of that best-friend's-sister crush thing going on?" Jay asked, knowing it absolutely wasn't the case.

Tim scowled. "Ew, no. Never. She's not my type."

Jay smirked. "Gentlemen prefer blondes. Gotcha."

Dick gave a snort at that, giving a dramatic little shrug. "Well, it seems like Cass Cain's an exception. But then, you have to admit, being Cass, she's nothing if not pretty darn exceptional."

"Tell me you're not creeping on the younger set," Jay said with a frown.

Dick looked both horrified and offended. "Of course not! Cass is just on a whole different level. She didn't really have a childhood any of us would recognize as such, and we're already pretty far north of normal. I forget that you never got to meet her. Or Steph, really. You'd like them both."

"Last I heard, Steph Brown was trying to kick my ass," Jay said.

Tim made a low, musing noise. "It was Kala that pulled her off your trail. You know that, right? And Steph should know that was years ago. If I'm over it, she should be too."

"I did not know that, thanks," Jay told him. "And if the girl was crazy enough over you to come hunting _me_ , at peak Red Hood psycho level, I don't think a few years is gonna settle her down."

"Steph will be all right," Dick said confidently. "She's got more heart than anyone else in this job."


	81. Epilogue: Found That I Belong

Sebast woke up for the dozenth time, glanced at the clock, and sighed heavily. His sleep had been uneasy ever since he'd come back to Metropolis, and he knew damn well why. The bed was too empty without Kala sprawling everywhere, his only defense to wrap tight around her and snuggle her to sleep. He missed her worse every day.

The label was calling, Jenna left increasingly wheedling messages on his phone, and he'd gone from deleting them unheard to actually listening. He'd even unblocked all the numbers he'd locked out the night he left, though no one from the band called him.

 _She_ didn't call him. Then again, they'd both said a lot to each other that night, words he wished he could take back. If he'd kept his stupid mouth shut, just let her have her Wayne boy, he could have Kala by his side most of the time, and things could go back to normal once her infatuation ran its course.

No, that was him running from his problems again. Things hadn't been right between them since they'd slept together. Hell, maybe not even since he'd kissed her when they were sixteen, and he'd missed her so much and worried for her safety until the only way he could express his relief at seeing her again was to kiss her. That should've been a hint that things between them weren't as platonic as they both insisted.

They shouldn't have _needed_ to insist. They shouldn't have needed to be as incredibly boundary-fadingly close as they were, as if they were daring Cupid to shoot. Both of them had been pretending there was nothing between them for years, and her reasons were pretty noble, actually. Sebast got an inordinate amount of women hitting on him, and it was mostly amusing, but some of their fans made him uncomfortable. Like the one girl who got him to sign her collarbone, and then posted photos to the band's Facebook page of the fresh tattoo she'd had it turned into. _Yikes_. Kala hadn't wanted to be one of those girls who treated him like most straight men treated women, as something to be lusted after, not a real person.

 _He_ was just a dumbass. So what if his family was thrilled? They all loved her, and _he_ knew who he was. No matter how he felt about one particular woman, the way Sebast felt about hundreds of men proved he was still pretty damn gay. What did it matter what his family thought? Mikey knew, his parents were just obtuse as fuck.

And yeah, the other thing. Half his gay friends would drop him in a hot minute if he got with a chick. Sebast knew perfectly well that bisexuals – which he didn't consider himself to be – got shit from both straights and queers. Straight people assumed they were gays who were afraid to come out, gay people assumed they were confused or just experimenting, and both accused bisexuals of being perpetually horny cheaters. He'd watched Kala get a certain amount of that crap, people dismissing her attraction to women as a typical twenty-something bi-curious phase. He'd even heard her own Aunt Tobie, once introduced to Marlene, offhandedly tell Lois not to worry about grandkids, Kala would probably still end up with a man. And that was _Tobie_ , who tried to be First Dyke of Metropolis, being casually biphobic.

Kala had served her up some truth, Sebast had sat back clapping once she was done, and to her credit Tobie had started to think about things a little more. She'd admitted her bias, that she'd been the bi-curious experiment for a _lot_ of girls in college, and somehow it stung her worse when they left her for men than if they'd left her for women. Sebast didn't get that mindset, but then, he didn't date so much as hook up, and all he cared about was his partners using condoms with everyone they slept with.

But why in the fuck should he let that stop him? If some of his friends, who were really more acquaintances, called him a traitor for sleeping with a women, that was their fucking problem. They could get the hell over it, or get lost. He'd tap-danced around something that could be _real_ , that could mean more than a thousand one-night stands, because he'd been too damn scared of what people would say. Of what it would mean.

Was there even a word for it, a label that actually worked? He wouldn't even know what to call himself. Guys who mostly liked women but occasionally flirted with men called themselves heteroflexible. Maybe Sebast was just the opposite of that, but still, it wasn't _some_ women. It was just one woman.

And he might've lost her for good, no matter what he did now. If she was happy with this guy, he couldn't fuck it up.

Sebast groaned, pulled the pillow over his head, and rolled over, wishing for sleep.

…

Steph knew that Cass didn't want her there, and the knowledge poked at her like a thorn in her foot, gone too deep to pull out and hurting with every step. Cass wanted to do this reconnaissance alone, like she did so much alone, because she was stealthier than Steph. Well, she was stronger and faster than Steph, too, mostly because no one had ever worked her over with a power drill, paying special attention to the shoulder joint her weight had been hanging from at the time.

Not that Cass hadn't taken staggering injuries before, too, but she'd healed better than Steph had. And she'd been better, to start with. She'd always been better, always would be.

Steph wasn't going to stay behind, though, because they'd heard rumors about this particular cell of the League of Shadows. That they were led by a woman, a terrifyingly competent fighter, and that narrowed the pool of suspects down. An Asian woman, and that narrowed it still further. A woman who sought out warriors of every arcane skill, and battled them to learn their strengths and add to her own – and oh, that sounded like one person in particular.

But they didn't _know_ , not for sure, not until someone said a name or they saw her in person. And Cass didn't even trust the name, though anyone foolish enough to _pretend_ to be Lady Shiva was apt to get a fatal visit from the real thing, very soon.

Cass had to see her. And Steph demanded to go with her, not because she thought she could help materially with the mission, but because she didn't want Cass to face this alone. Even if Cass faced most things alone, and was pretty damn good at getting by.

She shouldn't _have_ to. That was what friends – and more than friends – were for. And Batman and Tim and that whole crowd had said a _lot_ about Steph, but no one had ever called her disloyal.

So she found herself slinking into position, trying to be as quiet as Cass, glad that at least the Spoiler uniform gave some decent concealment. And never mind that she'd drug it with her to Africa, even though she'd promised herself she was giving up capes to go do something that _mattered_. She'd brought the suit anyway, and putting it on made her feel … strong. Powerful. _Good_. It still felt good, even when every muscle was complaining at her about climbing the outside of a brick wall. She was _not_ going to let Cass haul her to the top on a rope, that'd be too much.

They got to the roof, eventually, and snuck across rooftops to finally plaster themselves flat on the edge, peeking through narrow cracks in the masonry at the street below. There were men patrolling the roofs around here, but they hadn't looked for two girls crawling on their bellies for two dozen yards to get to this spot, and it wasn't a good one for launching an ambush. Or planting a sniper.

It was a spot good for only one thing: seeing that little slice of street below, and the heavily-guarded building on it where powerful men met with dangerous ones. Steph put her hand over Cass', gently, just to remind her she was there, and peered through the gap in the bricks.

They had to wait a long time, long enough for Steph's shoulder to get stiff, long enough for her to worry that they might get too close to dawn, and have to slink away to try again tomorrow. And her shoulder was telling her in no uncertain terms that she would _not_ be climbing up that wall a second time. Steph told it to shut up, ignoring the twinges of pain in the joint, and felt Cass go very still.

She looked, and saw four men escorting a woman from the building. They moved deferentially, she strode like she owned the whole town, and all Steph could see was black hair and a dark coat that flared with each confident stride. She hoped, secretly, that it was Cheshire, or someone else, _anyone_ else, just not Shiva, please.

Cass' hand thrummed like a live wire under hers.

The woman on the street turned to speak to one of the men, and they saw her face, and Steph grabbed Cass' hand tight so that even if she tried to make a move, she'd have to know that Steph would give her away.

Sandra Wu-San. Lady Shiva. Cass' mother. No mistaking her, even at this distance, Steph knew those cheekbones and those eyes because she woke up looking into them most days. It was her, and only Steph being here kept Cass from doing something rash.

Once she'd moved on, Steph whispered under her breath, "Fuck." Cass turned to her, dark eyes shining, and nodded. "We have to call this in," Steph insisted, keeping her voice low so as not to be overheard by any guards.

"You call," Cass said, starting to move back from the edge.

Steph grabbed her wrist again, and never mind that Cass could break her grip a dozen ways. "No. You're not leaving me behind. You don't do this alone, not against her."

"She will kill you," Cass hissed.

"Nah, not me," Steph whispered back, and managed a hushed laugh. "I'm not good enough to be a challenge. We call it in, then we follow her, see what she's doing. Let Bats take her on. She's not your problem."

"She is my mother," Cass insisted.

"No, she's basically just a womb donor. She didn't raise you. She didn't care for you. Let it go, Cass, this isn't your burden alone." Steph knew she couldn't convince her completely, but if she could just throw some _doubt_ into that terrible sense of destiny, maybe it'd be enough.

Cass stared at her, and finally blinked. She nodded, and Steph let out the breath she'd been holding. "Let's go. We need to report back to Oracle."

Once more, Cass looked in the direction her mother had gone, then shook herself. She wouldn't thank Steph for saving her from that first impulse to hunt down Lady Shiva, because it'd be too many words that all meant the same thing. Instead, she touched Steph's cheek, and Steph covered her hand, leaning into it. What else needed to be said?

They went back the way they came, sticking to shadows and silence, while Steph worried about their next move.

…

Damian's birthday was a glorious celebration, and even finding out that the Cat had already taken down her new website didn't dim it. Ah well, there would be other exchanges in this bloodless little war, which for some odd reason Talia found herself looking forward to. She pushed the news out of her mind to see her son properly honored, and he was delighted with his gifts, and the dinner composed of all his favorite foods. The da Vinci sketch filled him with wonder, and Talia's heart ached to be the author of so much joy. If only she could be this happy every day…

There was joy, too, after sunset when the heavy meal wore off, and the dry air grew cool. Talia led her son away from the compound, into the quiet night, carrying their Lazarus-forged blades. He trotted along beside her, betraying a little anxiety, but not much. So far this tradition had always ended the same way, but he had hopes that would change, and soon. His skill with a blade was superlative, and any ordinary swordsman would be quickly overwhelmed, as much by that strength in a _child_ as by his actual prowess.

Talia remembered her own childhood, and her own teachers. It was best to strike while they marveled at one so young already holding a sword confidently. She could still seize a similar advantage now; many men were unprepared for a woman to be as deadly as she was beautiful.

But in _this_ fight, neither of them had the advantage of surprise. Talia handed her son his blade, stepped back, and saluted him. "To first blood," she said.

"To surrender," Damian replied fiercely, and she saw her own youth in his blazing eyes.

Time to teach him caution. "If you will," Talia said, and struck.

He evaded her, more agile than she, his smaller size simply making him a more difficult target. "What will I get, when I win?" Damian asked, pressing an attack.

Talia turned the blade, smiling. "Did you not have enough gifts today? To win is a prize of its own."

"You might let me win. You _are_ my mother," he complained.

"I would never insult you so." Talia swept her blade toward him, the steel chiming oddly as they parried. Blades quenched in the Lazarus Pit were superlatively strong, held a wicked edge, and rang like bells when struck together. They were also proof against most magic, which was why Ra's al Ghul had forged his personal blades so over the centuries. And also why Talia had given Jason Todd a kris quenched in the same eldritch waters that brought him back to sanity.

"Then I should have a prize, to mark my winning," Damian insisted stubbornly. He was panting a little, moving quickly to keep her guarding her flanks.

Talia laughed; he was so very like her. She was still defending, though she'd nicked his shoulder slightly in an earlier pass. "What would you have of me, my son? I can deny you nothing you truly desire."

Damian lunged in fiercely, forcing her to take a step back, and demanded, "My father's name."

She was so caught out by that request that he actually got past her guard, and only decades of training embedded in muscle memory let her dodge in time. Or nearly in time, she felt a line of fire running across her ribs, and Damian's eyes went wide. He had never yet scored her so thoroughly.

"Enough talk," Talia said, and stopped treating this bout as a game. It ended moments later, Damian's back thumping onto the sand, her boot on his sword, her own point at his throat, and she raised her eyebrows at him.

He sighed, as only frustrated little boys could, and flopped down in an attitude of dejection. "You win, Ommi. As always."

"Not always," Talia said gently, and offered him her hand to rise. "Your day will come, my little prince. And when you defeat me – as I defeated your grandfather, when it was my time – I will do as you ask, and give you your father's name."

He beamed at her, the sorrow of losing forgotten, and Talia hid from him the unrest that agreement cost her. For once that particular secret was out, all of their lives would change forever. She had tried all his life to keep him safe by keeping him close, and _that_ knowledge would set him on a new course.

She was still troubled, after seeing him to bed, and stopped by the infirmary to treat the cut he'd dealt her. Talia didn't bother to summon any of their physicians, it was a simple enough thing, a shallow cut – though placing the stitches herself was awkward. She needed a mirror to do it without bending at the waist and pulling the skin unevenly.

Even with the mirror, Talia did not know she was observed until her father spoke. "Truly, the boy has grown skillful," he murmured.

"More luck than skill," she said lightly, and did not turn to face him. Better not to let him see how it bothered her that he still so rarely called Damian by name, if not addressing him directly.

"Does luck now count against you, daughter?" Ra's asked. "I would have thought you could easily defeat any child, even that one whose blood is so strong."

"Luck counts against everyone, sooner or later," she replied still stitching.

He stepped into the room, moving to her side. "We have physicians for that. You will have a scar, if you are not careful."

"I have other scars," she said, meeting his eyes in the reflection. Talia did not say that some of those scars had come from him, and not only at her birthdays when they met with live steel just as she and Damian did.

Ra's shook his head slightly. "Stubborn. Like me, so it is no surprise. Tell me the truth, Talia. How did he come to land this stroke?"

She sighed in irritation. "He is stubborn, as we both are, and demanding. He wants a prize for winning – to know his father's name."

Ra's nodded. "It is better to keep that from him. For now, at least. If he knows of the Detective, he will seek him out."

 _And Bruce will want to keep him from both of us,_ Talia thought, and placed another stitch. He could have done this for her, but she'd rather have the scar. "His skill does grow swiftly. It is better this way; let him earn the knowledge. He will be more able to examine it critically once he is older."

A long pause, as she finished closing the wound, and Ra's handed her antibiotic ointment and bandages. "You know that not even this, his son by blood, will make the Detective love you as you wish," he said, gently. Almost sadly. "He is a man made for justice, and even that only as he defines it. Not for love."

 _Yet he loved me, and loves me still,_ she thought. _Though not as I wish, or as he wishes. The road from when we met 'til now runs long and twists much on itself._ "And you know, Father, that no matter how many times you say that to me, I will never believe it."

They looked at each other across decades of love and betrayal, and he shook his head gently. "Not even the boy for whom you defied me won him back, and the word I hear from Gotham is that Jason Todd now runs at his father's side, and sleeps under his roof, and eats at his table. If _that_ would not sway him, Talia, why you do persist in wishing for the love of a man who has made himself into stone? A man who replaced you with a mere thief?"

"I might hate Selina Kyle, if I thought any man could replace me with her," Talia replied, and smiled a little to hide the way her heart beat faster when he spoke of Jason. "She is amusing, at least."

"I shall leave you to your sport, then," Ra's said. "I hope you will not grow fond of her, too. Your heart is too tender, my daughter."

"As long as my will is a strong and sharp as my sword, what does it matter?" she said, her voice deceptively light. "For your sake, I have turned my heart to stone before. A least for a little while."

He regarded her calmly, the knowledge of centuries weighing her words, and then put a careful hand on her shoulder. "I could wish you had a younger father, ya albi, less burdened by the past and by the future I seek to create. Do not think I do not see you with the boy, and remember that I have not been the father I wanted to be. But I could never wish for a more perfect daughter."

She leaned into his hand, and favored him with a smile, and did _not_ say, _Oh, but you wished for a_ _ **son**_ _._ "Thank you, Father. It is late. Let me finish dealing with this, and rest. I will leave for Libya tomorrow."

"Safe travels," Ra's told her, and left her to finish bandaging the wound. Talia knew she would have to proceed carefully, once she arrived in Libya, to find out which of their men were still loyal. She had no desire to face their enemies wounded, even so trivial a scratch as this.

…

In the middle of a park where no one walked, the trees grew so thickly their leaves blotted out the night sky – not that there were many stars to see above Gotham. The ground underfoot was still paved in places, but here in the center of the park it was lush grass, thick and soft, dotted with wildflowers. The smaller brush was alive by day with insects, lizards chasing them, birds chasing both, and somewhere in the nighttime tangle an owl called a question. Thorny vines hung everywhere, but they bloomed with wild roses and hung heavy with berries.

Gentler vines had grown into a hammock, and Poison Ivy looked up to the leaves above. This was a little slice of paradise in the center of the city, and she longed to see all of it remade like this. No more tar and steel and glass and concrete, all of it dead and flat. A living world, the heartbeat of the trees pulsing sap down in autumn, up in spring, a single beat per year, slower and steadier than anything made by the hand of man.

Outside this little glade, it was fall, and the temperature dropped a little more each night. There would be snow soon, and she'd have to stop convincing this little quarter-acre to pretend it was still late summer. Even she would go indoors, hating a roof over her head but knowing she would sleep like the oaks if she stayed out in the cold. There was a house, long abandoned, where the windows were open and the vines had trailed in. Ivy could retreat there, and make her plans for spring.

The rage of Gaia Herself sometimes sprang up in her chest, and made her want to bring the world of men and all their works crashing down. Ivy knew that, in Gotham at least, her wrath was futile. The Bat stood between her and reclaiming this whole island for nature. Where would he perch, without gargoyles and parapets to swoop down from? It would be better, and wiser, to leave the city entirely.

South America, where the rainforest struggled to survive as men cut and burned their way across it. That was where she should be. Ivy could make a difference to the entire _planet_ there, her skills would be more useful sparing the lungs of the earth from further rapine, than fighting these smaller battles in a city already half-paved.

She stayed in Gotham for two reasons, and one of them was fading every year. This city had been home to Dr. Pamela Isley, and no plant likes to be uprooted. But Ivy grew further from who she had been, and the city felt less like home, ever since the accident that had changed her and taught her to hear the voice of the Green in her bones.

The other reason only grew stronger. Harleen.

Ivy closed her eyes, tipped her head back, and felt the war inside her. Poison Ivy belonged to the Green, loved nothing and no one that was not born of Kingdom Plantae. Pamela Isley loved Harleen Quinzel with a desperate hopeless love that often infuriated her. And in the strife between the two was her doom and salvation. Harley was her toehold in a world that grew increasingly strange to her, yet it was the world into which she'd been born and raised. When her mind tried to pulse along the Green, turning away from human thoughts, Harley was there to keep her rooted in the waking world.

But Harley wasn't always there. And never would be. So she should close that chapter of her life like a book with a bad ending, and walk away. The rainforest. Someplace she could sink into the Green and never come back, embrace her destiny as Mother Nature's living avatar. A year in the rainforest, speaking only to trees that were ancient before she was born, and Ivy would forget she'd ever been human. When the Green called on her, she would rise before the bulldozers like an avenging goddess, and take back the forest.

In the spring, perhaps, she'd go. Ivy laughed dryly, knowing she'd made similar promises to herself before, and here she still remained. For now, her excuse was weather; she hated to travel in the fall or winter, it made her want to curl up and sleep the cold months away. If she went to Brazil in the spring, she'd never have to suffer another winter.

Ivy sighed at herself, and got up. It was time to go inside, and let autumn's chill send her little glade to sleep. She walked across grass to the house she'd chosen, but there was still a sidewalk before it.

And in the middle of that sidewalk, growing from a crack in the cement, was a dandelion. Far out of season, still it bloomed, a stubborn little weed nodding its yellow petals at her. Ivy bent, and touched it slightly.

It told her its life story in that touch. A seed blown by chance into the crack between cement, where a few grains of earth and sand had collected. Just enough for the seed to sprout, and its first tiny leaves drank in the sun, while its roots writhed down to touch the earth under the sidewalk. Early in its growing, people had trodden on it, leaves crushed and bleeding sap. There had been weeks of no rain, its stem shriveling. Its first flower had been picked by a child to place in her hair, the second flower eaten by a passing rabbit that lived in the park. The sun baked the sidewalk and the rain flushed out what little soil was in the crack, but by then the dandelion had put down roots and laughed at hardship.

A thing with roots could live almost forever.

And now with winter on its way one last brave flower stood, and because Ivy kept the little glade in the park awake, a few bees lived and had visited this dandelion. Soon enough it would bring forth seed, and the children of this determined survivor would spread wherever there was soil to support them.

There was hope, still, the blind hope of this little plant that would die with the frost, and live again in hundreds of descendants. Its roots had forced the crack in the cement just a little wider, and perhaps one of its own seeds would come to rest here, in the traces of mud tracked in spring, and grow again, and press the gap still further. It might take a hundred years, but if left alone, the cement would be crumbled into food for more plants, and the flowers would nod to the sun as if to say, _I told you so. We endure. We shall triumph in the end, always._

Pam sighed, and smiled, and let her power feed the dandelion, so it went from a flower to seed in moments instead of days. She blew across the seeds, scattering them.

Perhaps there was hope for her, too. If anyone she knew was a dandelion, unbeatable no matter how often crushed, it was Harley.

…

The boy whom Luthor called Scion knew more than they thought he did. He was not a prisoner in the compound, but guards followed him when he left his rooms. At a respectful distance, to be sure, yet still they followed, and he sometimes wished to be alone.

He waited for nightfall, when his courtyard fell dark and the lights in his rooms burned brighter. Light was his life and strength; he had never known darkness. The deep velvet dark outdoors was dangerous, in his eyes, and he shunned it. But there was plenty to see indoors, the compound sprawling and full of interesting things. Experiments, books, crystals full of information.

He went first to the crystal panel on his door, rapped it sharply, and brought up its diagnostic mode. The boy had helped Luthor translate more information on how to manipulate the crystals, but everyone around him was cautious with this technology. They studied it, and made a few small changes, and studied it some more. The boy was more curious than cautious, and he had learned things on his own, which he did not share with Luthor.

It was Luthor's genius that integrated Kryptonian crystal data storage with human silicon chips and processors. Perhaps he did not realize that was a two-way exchange, that from this panel – left completely unlocked, with the same level of access as if Luthor himself were standing here – the boy could reach all of the computers in the facility. It was a tedious process, certainly, and he had some ideas on how to create a more effective keyboard. But that went by the wayside for now. He'd already designed the program he wanted, and hidden it well. He only had to access it now, and start it running.

It was a simple thing, that tracked his progress through the facility, and replaced the camera feeds with loops of stored video. While it ran, he moved as a ghost, and even the men watching the monitors never saw him. He only had to be careful not to walk into an occupied corridor, for the insertion of the looped footage would make anyone standing there disappear from security's monitors, but since he could see through walls, that was simple enough.

He did not mistrust Luthor and Ms. Graves. He simply wanted some things for himself alone. And these midnight strolls satisfied that urge.

The facility was half-shadowed, but the lights came up wherever he walked, reassuring him. He went to the crystal library first, and listened to some history purely for the sake of hearing his native tongue. The Clone War of Krypton began to bore him, though, with all the moralizing laid on after the fact. No one had thought it wrong, at the time, to create copies of men and women. At least, not until someone woke one of them up, and she walked about with a mind of her own. The people of Krypton had been horrified enough to tear their society apart in a civil war over the use of cloning technology.

Luthor had that same tech, here. It was not yet in use, as far as Scion knew, but Luthor did not scruple at it. He said that saving existing lives was more important than preventing harm to ones that were not yet realized. The other view had prevailed on Krypton, and cloning was outlawed, but then the boy had noticed that Luthor's ethics frequently departed from Krypton's. He was human, and his world had different challenges.

He turned off the recording, stood up, and stretched. Time to visit something more real and meaningful than ancient history. Scion walked through the compound to a room taken up by a huge barred cage. It had a courtyard, like his, but unlike his it was roofed with more bars. Like him, the occupant of the cage shunned the darkness outside, to lie in the half-light.

The huge dog in the cage stood up, the hair on his spine rising, his ears pricked forward. His eyes were blue, his nose black, and his coat a pure blinding white. Scion approached him, calling him softly by the only name he had for the dog: the Kryptonian word for 'friend'.

The dog's tail began to swish back and forth happily, and his hackles went down. He came to press against the bars with a shiver; they both knew that under a coat of lead paint, green crystal pulsed, enough to sicken or kill both of them if it were exposed. Only that held the dog in his prison.

Scion sat next to the bars with the same shiver at their proximity, and reached his arm through. No scientist in the facility would dare so greatly, they even fed him by a chute, and his snarl promised that any attempt at such familiarity would end in bloodshed. The boy had seen footage of him chewing through the leg bone of a cow, teeth shearing easily through bone as if it were mousse. Everyone here feared the dog.

Everyone here feared Scion, at least a little. Except for Luthor and Ms. Graves.

His only friend leaned against the bars, and let out a heavy sigh. Scion patted his shoulder, sinking his fingers into thick fur, and sighed as well. It was contentment, and though the boy would not have described himself as lonely in the same way fish would not describe their sea as wet, only now that he sat with his hand in the dog's fur and those blue eyes gazing into his adoringly did he feel less alone.

…

Jay looked at his phone after a night of rounds, knowing Kala was probably asleep by now after her show. There was no reason to expect a message from her, she'd have to be exhausted, and he should just make do with the scent of her perfume on her pillow.

Fuck, it was _her_ pillow now, and his bed was damn cold without her in it. He shook his head, remembering how they'd first met. He'd bitched at Babs about the damn Super running loose in Gotham, complaining about everything from her uniform to her name, just certain that she'd be another casualty of the Rotten Apple and its ugly underbelly.

 _Who's this trigger-happy asshole?_ Oh, he remembered hearing that catty voice over the comm, and Jay grinned at the memory now. Kala still didn't hesitate to call him on his bullshit. Hell, he liked that about her. What he _thought_ was a snotty little princess turned out to be a force of nature with a sense of humor. It only took three months to get from that angry question to _Who says I can't admit it?_ And damn if he didn't like what came after _that_.

In the last few months Kala had met quite a few of Gotham's A-list rogues, and she'd come out more or less on top every time – despite getting her ass kicked a bit by each one. Horrified by Black Mask's chop shop, kryptonited by Joker, kissed by Poison Ivy, fear toxin sprayed by Scarecrow, and she was still in the game. Hell, all of those assholes had probably _helped_ her, by bringing out the Empress often enough that Jay could get a handle on how to deal with Kala's dark side.

He sighed happily, and checked his phone, surprised to find that there _was_ a message from Kala. _Miss you. Tour is crazy. Gonna give up and find a new job. Is diner hiring?_

Jay laughed, and typed back, _Miss you too. Town's quiet without you to stir up trouble. Mary won't let anyone muscle in on her good tippers. Could get O to hook you up w a library job._

He pictured her laughing at that. _Way too quiet for me, & needs a degree I don't have. I'll suffer a little longer. See you soon as I can._

It couldn't be soon enough for Jay. _Counting the minutes, Princess._

* * *

 **Authors' Final Note:** That's a good last line, we hope, for everyone who's looking forward to the next. Here we are, friends, at the end of the longest story we've ever written. It's been a wild ride, and we have loved all of your reviews. Thank you to everyone who's been here since the days of _Little Secrets_ , and the new readers who jumped in at the deep end. We appreciate you all. The series has been ongoing for 13 years, and this story in particular has been 9 years in the making. Posting this final chapter is rather an emotional moment for both of us.

We hope to see you all back again for _Chiaroscuro_ , whose first few chapters include: Sebast calling Kala while she's at Jay's apartment! Jay finding out Kala's birthday the night before it arrives! Harley finally hitting her limit! Steph and Cass putting their arc back in motion! And still more. We both hope to see you when it starts posting toward the end of August. Thank you, yet again, for joining us on this incredible journey.


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